2B — Thursday, November 10, 2016
the b-side
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

COMPLEXCON
From Page 1B

ComplexCon. Part of speech:

noun. Language of origin: the
youth’s English. Definition: uh,
well ...

Definition? That’s a great ques-

tion.

From Nov. 5 to Nov. 6 at the Long

Beach Convention and Entertain-
ment Center in California, Complex
magazine hosted ComplexCon, its
inaugural … convention? Festival?
Hypebeast cooperative? What are
we to label this weekend of cloth-
ing releases, food, art, music and
guest speakers? Its website calls it
the first ever cultural World’s Fair.

After experiencing ComplexCon

for myself, I think I’m ready to give
you an answer.

Before I go any further, here’s

what you should know about the
events that ensued over those two
days: Picture a warehouse-like
convention center full of pop-up
shops selling the most in-demand
streetwear brands out there (think
Adidas, A Bathing Ape and every-
thing in between). Add a myriad of
food trucks, art exhibitions, guest
speakers and musicians to the mix
and you’ve got yourself a Complex-
Con sandwich.

Now, let’s get analytical.
ComplexCon represents con-

sumerism. Nearly every featured
clothing brand designed a capsule
collection to be sold exclusively
at the event, making pre-existing
Hypebeast
undertones
wildly

potent. Every shop opened simul-
taneously at 10 a.m. both days. By
9:55, young boys and grown men
alike could be seen darting from
vendor to vendor, hoping to secure
a pair of Nike Special Field Air
Force Ones while still finding time
to cop the latest tee from Vlone.
And what for? Why, all in the name
of money, of course.

“Even if you wear a piece and

then resell it, you’ll still make dou-
ble what you spent,” explained a
wiry tween from his place in the
Nike line. “Me and my friend came
to do that, and we’ll make $1,500
to $10,000 easily. It’s really that
simple.”

Though it was fascinating to

watch people fawn over overpriced
Gildan shirts emblazoned with par-
ticular symbols, I couldn’t help but
wonder whether ComplexCon was
promoting fashion or pure busi-
ness. One of the weekend’s most
popular affairs was a series of ongo-
ing raffles that offered winners the
opportunity to buy a pair of shoes.
You read that correctly. Hundreds
of entrants paid for the chance to
be able to buy $180 sneakers. As one
attendee noted, “It’s consumerism
disguised as culture. It’s trying to
sell you this idea of what’s cool and
what’s happening, but really, it’s
just capitalism.”

That weekend, consumerism

existed not only as a means of com-
merce, but as a means of worship.
Celebrities unveiled clothing col-
laborations left and right, from
Pharrell at G-Star to Metro Boo-
min at Puma. At one point, I found
myself inside a mass of adolescents

crowded outside Urban Outfitters.
We were waiting the arrival of our
dear leader, none other than Lil
Yachty, who happened to be run-
ning more than 40 minutes late to
his own meet-and-greet.

When the red-haired sensation

did arrive to the hub of his sweaty
young fan base, their reactions
felt practically spiritual. Dozens
of young boys rushed from spot to
spot, testing out the view from their
tiptoes, all in the hopes of getting a
glance at their trendy patron saint.

The weekend’s female pres-

ence was minimal. Technically
speaking, every part of Complex-
Con could be considered gender-
neutral, but it’s the man we tend to
think of when custom sports cars
are placed on display to advertise a
clothing brand (I’m looking at you,
Bape, and your purple-camo Lam-
borghini).

The
only
overtly
feminine

aspect of the event was an activa-
tion curated by women’s lifestyle
site MissBish in conjunction with
Colourpop,
an
up-and-coming

makeup brand taking Instagram
and YouTube by storm. Hair styl-
ing, makeup application and free
samples were all offered within the
marble-lined space. I could think
of no better way to escape from a
testosterone-heavy weekend than
sipping on a free coffee from Alfred
Coffee (provided by online retailer
Five Four) while a sweet young
woman twisted my hair into the
most impeccable French braids
ever to have graced my scalp.

In spite of the lack of estrogen

involved, the convention center felt
like a remarkably inclusive space.
No race seemed to overpower the
others; Black, white, Latino and
Asian co-existed in a harmonious
rhythm accompanied by hip hop.
Walking from vendor to vendor,
activation to activation, I heard
as wide a variety of languages as
one would on a typical New York
City street. Sure, the Hypebeast
phenomenon is rooted in com-
mercial value, but that value is one
understood across a color wheel
of nationalities, cultures, back-
grounds and ethnicities.

ComplexCon may have ben-

efited many corporations, but it
also fostered a free-flowing artistic
spirit unlike any I have ever seen.
Thought-provoking
installations

by mixed media artist Patrick Mar-
tinez, a Culver City-based gallery
called Think Space and a multi-
tude of other art-world favorites
provided a much-needed breath
of fresh air to an otherwise stuffy,
and alarmingly fluorescent, space.
My personal favorite was an exhi-
bition featuring a giant interactive
ball that, when touched, displayed
a variety of designs by Takashi
Murakami, the mastermind behind
ComplexCon’s graphics and much
of Kanye West’s album art. It was
largely thanks to his efforts that
the weekend felt artistic to the core.

The food trucks outside the

venue were, actually, the icing on
the cake. Churros, tacos and coffee
of every variety I could imagine (if
we’ve ever met, you know that’s a
lot) were available for the buying.

Coolhaus’s ice cream truck got me
through both days, for better or
worse.

Oh, right! There was also music,

and a wide variety, at that. The
weekend kicked off with Insta-
gram star and DJ Chantel Jeffries,
progressing to performances by a
diverse variety of artists as the day
went on. Though I was not granted
night access, the word on the street
Sunday morning was that Kid
Cudi’s show the night before had
changed lives. Sunday’s lineup held
the same level of versatility, featur-
ing artists such as DJ Virgil Abloh,
Lil Yachty, Travis Scott and the
ubiquitous face of both hip hop and
marijuana, none other than Snoop
Dogg.

“It was amazing to perform

here,” Jeffries exclaimed after her
set. “It’s a great venue and a great
event. I’m super happy to be here.”

Let’s ride this wave of positiv-

ity a little while longer, shall we?
If ComplexCon’s backbone was
made of money, its soul was built
upon the wisdom of its Complex
Conversations
panelists.
Twit-

ter sensation and self-proclaimed
“Based God” Lil B proved, among
a series of enthusiastic head-nods,
that activism can take many forms
in “The Future of Activism, Mobi-
lization and Making a Difference.”
Throughout “The Music Genera-
tion Gap Debate,” contemporary
rapper Vince Staples defended
today’s youth in a heated debate
with Raekwon, Scarface, French
Montana, DJ Mustard and Pete
Rock, moderated by none other
than radio personality Angie Mar-
tinez.

Most astounding to me were Ice

Cube and Tony Hawk successfully
showing that there is no one viable
life path in a panel entitled “Achiev-
ing Longevity in the Game.” The
two spoke like old friends, capi-
talizing on their different experi-
ences to produce a guidebook of
life advice from the World’s Coolest
Dads. Caps intended.

“You have to make up your mind

on your vision of success,” Ice Cube
concluded toward the panel’s end.
“Some people think it’s money,
some people think it’s fame. I’d
rather have somebody come up
to me and say ‘I like what you did
there, I like that.’ That’s what I get
off on.” Nodding in agreement,
Hawk added his two cents: “If
you’ve really got that heart and that
passion, you’re going to rise up.”

So how, exactly, would I define

ComplexCon?

Part of speech and language of

origin aside, it is a movement. It
stands for a generation’s addiction
to consumerism, our yearning for
fame. It presents an opportunity
to make something of this modern
disposition. It signifies a tolerant
new form of masculinity. It is cre-
ativity. It is appreciation. It rep-
resents the youth’s desire to learn
from those they look up to.

Our generation defines Com-

plexCon. We are good, we are bad
and we are ugly, and we are willing
to own every bit of it.

Put that in your book, Merriam-

Webster.

COMMUNITY CULTURE COLUMN

I

f I were to write this and
keep it saved on my lap-
top for only me to see, it

would remain an isolated cre-
ation.

By offering it

to someone else,
I have just sur-
rendered a bit of
control. Now they
read my words.
They think. They
analyze.
They

conclude.

The
tricky

part about writ-
ing
is
whether

you’re
engaging

in it under a rigid academic
standard or simply as cre-
ative expression — the minute
it moves from an individual’s
thoughts to another’s eyes,
there is an element of the writ-
ing’s solitude that cannot be
restored. However, that’s the
way it should be or perhaps
has to be, in order for a piece
of writing to grow to be com-
plex, engaging and curious.
The more isolated the writing
experience, the less connection
between new thoughts outside
of your own. These various
perspectives
could
possibly

prevent a piece towards devel-
oping more meaning and depth
as a result of others’ ideas.

Writing is entirely a social

practice, even though in many
contexts, it isn’t seen as one.
An essay typically goes from a
Word doc to a professor’s com-
puter. No one else is involved
in the creation or reflection
of a piece and because of that,
something valuable is lost. This
limited transaction prevents a
writer’s growth and deprives
them of the benefits of sharing
and collaborating, which are
both essential to the writing
process.

For many years, I was never

open to people reading any-
thing
I
produced.
Writing

relies on personal experiences,
which I had always consid-

ered best left in
the realms of my
own
imagination.

It reveals vulner-
ability that I never
wanted others to
access
and
the

idea of keeping my
writing
between

me (and only me)
was always more
appealing
than

sharing it.

It’s not always

ideal to include others in such
exposure. Some of the best
advice offered to me about my
writing, especially during col-
lege, is to willingly accept the
value of the exchange. Writ-
ing that is complex and engag-
ing has to be shared and open
to critique, forcing a writer’s
reevaluation or maybe just
sparking a new thought. That
isn’t to say that all feedback
must be applied to a work
just because someone thinks
changes are necessary. Often,
it just illuminates something
that the writer wouldn’t have
otherwise seen unless someone
else read it and shared their
reactions.

What you’re reading now is

tailored for an audience. I’m
not following a prompt or spe-
cific style. For many writers,
their content is altered when
their audience is reimagined.
With that, I consider ways to
engage a reader with my work
and force them to think or pon-
der their own ideas towards my
writing. I also consider what
I can do as a writer to appeal
to readers and how I can find
ways to coherently express
thoughts I have about a topic
on the page in front of me.

Workshop is an effective

way for a writer to grow as
well. Not because the feed-
back from peers or friends is
always something writers want
to hear, but instead because it
forces them down two differ-
ent paths. The first: they hear
the thoughts of others and are
able to alter their piece in a way
that satisfies those concerns,
which presumably also satis-
fies the writer. The second is
allowing criticism or varying
perspectives to reinforce the
writer’s initial choices. It isn’t
that you have to be told you’re
wrong; it could just be another
way to convince yourself that
your choices as a writer are
intentional and will ultimately
be successful.

Writers often want to receive

assurance that their piece of
writing, whatever it is, is com-
municating meaning. But with
that motivation from others,
we don’t necessarily want their
opinion. I seek approval, but
critique, especially in the early
writing stages, seems detri-
mental to my incentive to keep
going. It’s incredibly hard to
verbalize some of the thought
processes behind writing dur-
ing its stages of development,
which often discourages my
thoughts toward sharing my
writing.

Regardless of the existing

insecurities, writing acts as
a tool to persuade, teach and
inspire. The best way to do
that is to be open to engage-
ment apart from just your own
thoughts put to the page. We
are relational, social beings—
don’t let your writing experi-
ence be left out of that.

Kadian is busy being meta.

To snap her out of it, email

bkadian@umich.edu

The sociability of writing

Creation is a shared experience, not an isolated undertaking

BAILEY
KADIAN

TESS GARCIA/Daily

22-year-old producer Metro Boomin performed at ComplexCon this past weekend in Long Beach.

TESS GARCIA/Daily

The event featured many artists and designers, selling items like these Nike Special AF1s.

RCA RECORDS

Everyone watch his NPR Tiny Desk concert. You’re welcome.

The year was 2008, and rap-

pers like Flo Rida, Plies and T.I.
were at peak relevancy. One in
particular, however, was on top of
the world. Born Faheem Rashad
Najm, “T-Pain,” a Tallahassee, Fl.
product, exploded onto the main-
stream scene with Epiphany in
2007. Both singles from the proj-
ect, “Buy U a Drank (Shawty Snap-
pin’)” and “Bartender,” became
megahits and launched the Auto-
Tune-dependent
rapper/singer

onto a new level of fame. “Buy
U A Drank,” especially, remains
iconic and one of the enduring
anthems of the mid-to-late 2000s.
His brand had elevated himself to
a somewhat untouchable level. He
was, elegantly — and more effec-
tively than anybody else — spitting
game.

Weddings, on the other hand,

traditionally spit, uh, tradition.
They all essentially follow the
same basic formula in both order
and detail, leading to occasion-
ally redundant ceremonies. For
example, “Canon in D” and “The
Bridal Chorus” are two proces-
sional
mainstays;
time-tested,

respectable compositions that act
not only as orchestral background
but social standard as well. Clas-
sic? Sure, but for an increasingly
(generally speaking) experimen-
tal wedding crowd, there needs to

be a valid alternative. R&B (past
and present) has a natural place in
any type of love affair, and even if
it hasn’t become a common trend
yet, promising young artists keep
churning out risqué, wedding-
ready songs. What better way,
then, to infuse some new-school
suave into an arguably outdated
institution and jumpstart the trend
than with some T-Pain?

His sound was almost made

for this type of setting. His third
album, Three Ringz (2008), had
certifiable
hits
(“Chopped
N

Skrewed,” “Freeze,” and “It Ain’t
Me” were destined for national
airwaves as soon as they were
released), but nothing was as pure-
ly masterful and versatile as “Can’t
Believe It.” Nothing can come close
to its ultra-romantic tone, which
epitomizes lovey-dovey T-Pain.
And nothing is better fit to marry
those in love.

T-Pain himself exhibits infinite

charm in making sure everyone
understands he’s ready to commit.
No matter where he is, whether
it’s a “log cabin, somewhere in
Aspen,” or a “mansion, somewhere
in Wisconsin,” he’ll do whatever it
takes to make his significant other
happy. His love transcends any set-
ting, as should the love of newly-
weds. A matrimony soundtracked
by such an exquisite slow jam is
certainly an auspicious beginning
to a healthy, daring relationship.

There could, however, be some

understandable resentment to this
movement. Old souls might not
be comfortable with the extent of
sensuality in the ballad. That being
said, such raunchiness seems to fit
the maturity level of this new gen-
eration. The song is slow. It’s sen-
sual. The pace is tailor-made for a
walk down the aisle in which the
bride (or groom, or parents, or all
of the above) can absorb the love
in the air. Coordinate each step
with the snap of the beat and watch
the audience feel the vibe as well.
(Chop the mix before Lil Wayne’s
inaudible verse to save the grand-
parents from hearing in-depth
sexual play-by-play).

This innovation can potentially

lay the foundation for later espous-
al lovesounds. Dvsn, an up-and-
coming Drake cosign, hasn’t quite
enjoyed the mainstream success
that allowed “Can’t Believe It” to
gain such notoriety, but its sound
on debut album Sept. 5th, namely
in “Hallucinations,” follows a for-
mula similar to T-Pain’s. Along
with Majid Jordan and, to a lesser
extent, Bryson Tiller, a new wave
of slow jams can surely find them-
selves riding “Can’t Believe It”
hypothetical wake in the arena of
new-age wedding processionals.
It could, and should, be the norm
sometime soon. This might not
be a welcome change for all, but
it’s an experiment worth trying,
and T-Pain can rightfully claim
responsibility for all of it.

JOEY SCHUMAN

Daily Arts Writer

T-Pain as a universal wedding gift

‘Can’t Believe It’ deserves a spot in the canon of great matrimonial jams

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