6B — Thursday, February 16, 2017
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
What would you do if you
knew that your days were
numbered?
Or, more specifically, what
would you do if, at just thirty-
two years young, at the peak
of your career, right as the
infinite hours you had spent
studying, honing your craft and
preparing to champion your
competitors had finally begun
to gain you infinite credibility
and creative freedom, your
days
became
numbered,
indefinitely numbered, by a
rare, irreversible blood disease?
A decade ago, James DeWitt
Yancey — also known as Jay
Dee, or perhaps most famously,
J. Dilla — faced this exact
scenario. In early 2003, after
returning from a short tour
abroad, Yancey fell ill. Upon
visiting an emergency room, he
was diagnosed with thrombotic
thrombocytopenic
purpura
(TTP), a rare condition that
causes small blood clots to form
throughout the body, inhibiting
the flow of oxygen-rich blood.
Suddenly,
Yancey’s
days
became numbered, his fate
eternally altered and eerily
given an expiration date, but
he seems to have been more
inspired by the news of his life’s
brevity than he was impaired.
He
resumed
his
creative
process as usual, teaming up
with legendary Los Angeles
producer
Madlib
for
their
historic, collaborative Jaylib
LP in 2003, then eventually
relocated from Detroit to L.A.,
along with his mother, Maureen
“Ma Dukes” Yancey, to both
seek
out
optimal
medical
treatment
and
plant
roots
closer to the musical action.
Of course, this wasn’t the
first time that Detroit’s own
Jay Dee departed from the
Mitten-state.
In
1994,
his
early musical mentor, Joseph
“Amp” Fiddler, a keyboardist
and producer who toured with
George Clinton and the P-Funk
All-Stars, introduced Yancey’s
work to Q-Tip of A Tribe Called
Quest upon running into him at
Lollapalooza.
Q-Tip was impressed by
Yancey’s work, so much so
that, after the meeting, the
producer
began
“traveling,
networking, and doing credited
and
uncredited
work
for
artists such as Janet Jackson,
Busta Rhymes, De La Soul,
and The Pharcyde,” according
to his official biography. He
eventually became a part of
the Ummah production team,
which created primarily for
A Tribe Called Quest and also
included Q-Tip, Yancey, and DJ
Ali Shaheed Muhammad.
Unfortunately,
Dilla’s
newfound
success
as
a
producer put the progression
of Slum Village, a Detroit rap
group made up of him, along
with childhood friends R.L.
“T3” Altman and the late Titus
“Baatin” Glover, largely on
hold. Though he would return
to his roots shortly to work on
the team’s first major project,
Fantastic, Vol. 1., after earning
serious praise from ?uestlove
and
D’Angelo,
figureheads
who could offer him access
into an entirely separate realm
of
sound,
Yancey
became
distanced from his bandmates,
likely due to his increasingly
demanding solo work-load.
In
the
early
2000s,
J.
Dilla produced ten songs for
Common’s
classic
LP,
Like
Water
For
Chocolate,
and
contributed to Erykah Badu’s
Mama’s Gun, crafting standout
track “Didn’t Cha Know” and
earning himself a Grammy
nomination in the process.
He had separated from Slum
Village to join one of the most
premier musical movements
of the last few decades, one
that
indefinitely
inspired
Kanye West’s early interest
in sampling soul records and
led to the creation of records
that remain vital almost two
decades later.
“I
went
to
a
recording
session with Talib Kweli at
Electric Ladyland and you guys
had the whole building,” Dave
Chapelle recalled, appearing
as a guest on The Tonight Show
Starring Jimmy Fallon in 2014
and aiming his comment at
?uestlove, the drummer of the
show’s house band, The Roots.
“They
had
D’Angelo
downstairs, and Common was
in one floor, and Erykah [Badu]
was in another show, I mean
another recording studio, and
Mos [Def] and [Talib] Kweli
are on the roof, and Ahmir
[“?uestlove”
Thompson]
is
running up and down, and
James [DeWitt Yancey, a.k.a. J.
Dilla] and everybody playing on
everybody’s sessions…”
Nowadays, such a scenario
sounds like a music nerd’s
fantasy,
a
session
that’s
obviously too good to be true.
But back then, it was business
as usual: Some of the greatest
hip-hop, neo-soul and R&B
tracks ever created came out
of sessions that were more
closely
related
than
most
people realize. Furthermore,
James
DeWitt
Yancey
was
present in quite a few of them,
masterminding
the
finer
details and deciding when each
was finished.
But towards the end of 2005,
after
arriving
in
Southern
California, J. Dilla became
seriously
unwell.
He
was
soon diagnosed with Lupus, a
disease wherein one’s immune
system hyper-actively attacks
healthy tissue, and eventually,
this led to kidney failure and
his requirements of repeated
dialysis treatments.
Like I said, right as the
infinite hours that he had spent
studying sound, honing his
craft and preparing himself
to
sonically
champion
his
competitors had finally begun
to gain serious attention, James
DeWitt Yancey’s days became
numbered.
According to J. Dilla’s official
biography, he “spent his final
months doing what he loved
the most—creating music. He
released Donuts, his third solo
LP, on February 7, 2006 before
passing away three days later at
the age of 32.”
Since
then,
Donuts
has
evolved into one of the most
praised pieces of music ever.
In his critical analysis of the
project for the 33 1/3 series,
Jordan Ferguson calls the odd
LP “a synthesis of everything
[Dilla] had done to that point,”
and it surely is a jumpy, exciting
package of music that twirls
its listeners around and takes
them on a journey across genres
and time.
But Donuts is deeper than
that too. Dilla wasn’t just
re-tracing his musical steps —
he was trying to push hip-hop
to be better, work harder and
think longer. Dilla was one
of the most, if not the most,
notorious perfectionist to ever
sample a drum loop. On Donuts,
he spends every last bit of life
in him, literally, reinforcing
his musical legacy. He strives
to define future soundscapes,
raise his genre’s expectations
and pen a sincere goodbye in
his first-language of rhythms,
all at once.
In 2005, speaking publicly
on Donuts for the only know
time before his death, J. Dilla
said: It’s just a compilation of
the stuff I thought was a little
too much for the MCs. That’s
basically what it is, ya know?
Me
flipping
records
that
people really don’t know how
to rap on but they want to rap
on.”
Though
some
modern
rappers may be capable of
facing his challenge (imagine
Kendrick
Lamar
rapping
over “The People”!?!), Donuts
remains as enticing, difficult
and inspiring as ever, more
than ten years later, in its exact
original format.
I can only hope that, should
my days ever become numbered,
I might respond to the news
with the bravery and tenacity
of James DeWitt Yancey.
Rest in beats, J. Dilla. You
truly were a great one.
SALVATORE DIGIOIA
Daily Arts Writer
STONES THROW
Deceased Detroit rapper J Dilla
Ten years later, J Dilla’s
legacy continues to live on
Late Detroit producer’s work manages to maintain ingenuity
COURTESY OF BILL MEYER
This is where we put a humorous cutline of our own devising.
Remembering unknown
Detroit legend DJ Holiday
Local singer achieved cult status through talent and tragedy
If you run a Google search DJ
Holiday you get a bunch of hits
for a C-list rapper and maybe, if
the algorithm works just right,
something about a Detroit singer.
DJ Holiday was a phenom with one
of those warm, room-filling, larger-
than-life voices. She was a regular
at Bert’s Market Place Jazz Club
singing with the RGB Trio during
Thursday open Mic nights.
Holiday was found dead in
a home in West Detroit earlier
this week. The singer had been
squatting in the property and
presumably
froze
to
death,
although the official cause of death
was ruled a heart attack, after the
heating was cut off.
She started singing publically
in Detroit in the ’60s at the Black
Horse Saloon, but had been singing
since childhood. Sixteen years
ago she started singing at Bert’s
in Eastern Market, when she met
longtime friend Bill Meyer who she
called her “Piano Man.”
“She struck everybody right
away as a unique person,” Meyer
said of Holiday, “She was a really
beautiful soul.”
Meyer worked with Holiday on
Before I Go, her first, and only CD.
He developed the idea for the CD
last year as a way to help Holiday
make money. She told Meyer that
before she met him she had never
made any money singing.
Holiday had also recently caught
the eye of French filmmaker
Arno Bitschy, who made the
documentary
“Reslience.”
The
documentary
focuses
on
the
triumphs and struggles of the city
from the declaration of bankruptcy
to the mayor’s State of the City
speech in 2015. Holiday was
featured on the film’s soundtrack
alongside other Detroit musicians.
After “Resilience” premiered,
Bitschy
turned
his
attention
to Holiday in particular. The
filmmaker had been working on
a documentary about Holiday’s
life and had recently extended an
invitation to Holiday to sing at the
film’s Paris premiere. It would have
been Holiday’s first trip outside the
country.
“Everything was new to her,”
said Meyer noting the tragic timing
of the singer’s death, “she was on
her way up.”
The tragedy is exactly the sort of
stuff legend is made of. But Holiday
herself was grounded in reality.
“She was real, she was painfully
real,” Meyer said, “Her singing
was honest and real. She wasn’t
pretentious or affectatious. And
her emotions were direct.”
She
was
straightforward.
She kept her eyes open, making
eye contact with her audience
throughout her sets, avoiding the
sort of eyes-closed arm-waving
that characterizes many Jazz
singers. DJ Holiday was known
for singing soulful ballads and had
a deep connection to the music of
Billie Holiday, whose life mirrored
her own in many ways. She lived a
hard life, full of the sorts of things
that should trample the human
spirit—poverty, loss, abuse. But, at
least in song, she soared. Holiday
created a community around her
voice
“That’s her story, she sang like
Billie and emulated Billie.”
Dave Tollington, a former senior
VP at Warner Music in Toronto
started coming across the river
seven years ago and eventually
found his way to Bert’s, where he
met Holiday. He ended up helping
Meyer with parts of Before I Go.
“She
used
to
sit
by
the
washrooms, sort of behind the
stage by herself,” Tollington said of
Holiday, “She was just mesmerizing
and the next time I came it was my
birthday and a friend asked if she
would sing “Don’t Explain,” a Billie
Holiday song, and she sang that one
straight at me. I literally had tears
going down my face it was that
powerful.”
After that song he asked Holiday
to join his table. He quickly
became fascinated by her story
and logged hours of tapes of their
conversations. Like many people
that found themselves within
range of her voice, Tollington was
drawn in by Holiday’s authenticity.
“She was one of hundreds of
singers, but for me she was the
on,” Tollington said, “How real she
was.”
Friends will be gathering at
Bert’s Thursday night at 8:30 P.M.
to celebrate the singers life. There
will also be a formal memorial
service
in
March
when
her
documentary is premiered in the
United States.
MADELEINE GAUDIN
Senior Arts Writer
The T-shirt conundrum
DETROIT VS. EVERYBODY
Popular Detroit t-shirt shown above
New York vs. Everybody?
Chicago
Hustles
Harder?
Though they say imitation is
the highest form of flattery,
let’s just put it out there:
Detroit did it first.
Over the course of the
city’s recent history, Detroit
aficionados have moved from
the simple calligraphy “D”
to shirts emblazoned with a
profusion of slogans: Made
In Detroit in 1991, Detroit
Hustles
Harder
in
2007
and finally, the ubiquitous
Detroit vs. Everybody in 2012.
The variety of merchandise
quickly expanded from simple
tees to coasters, keychains
and everything in between,
each printed with the quippy
slogan of their specific brand.
Though
one
could
easily
argue
that
the
Pinterest-
friendly products are merely
a byproduct of gentrification,
the
popularity
they
have
garnered cannot be denied.
In 2014, unofficial Detroit
ambassador Marshall Mathers
(AKA Eminem — can’t believe
I have to say that) released
a
single
titled
“Detroit
vs.
Everybody,”
drawing
direct
inspiration
from
a
phenomenon that started as a
mere article of clothing. The
song features fellow Detroit
musicians Big Sean, Danny
Brown, DeJ Loaf, Royce da
5’9” and Trick Trick, paying
homage to the slogan in its
repeated hook. The phrase
itself may not literally mean
much, but that’s not what
matters. What does matter
is the notion that Detroit has
served as a model for other
great cities. Sure, they may
be copying a mere T-shirt, but
the idea that Detroit has had
aspects worth imitating has
been alarmingly obsolete for
the last several decades.
This is not an ode to
gentrification, but rather an
acknowledgement of Detroit
as a shining new archetype of
city pride.
Calm
down,
New
York
and Chicago. But thanks for
reminding Detroit that it is
worthy of emulation. Just wait
until you see what else we have
up our novelty T-shirt sleeves.
TESS GARCIA
Senior Arts Editor
Suddenly,
Yancey’s
days became
numbered
He was trying to
push hip-hop to
be better, work
harder and think
longer
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