ACROSS
1 Have a sudden
inspiration?
5 Embryonic
membranes
10 “Good going!”
14 Ancient Andean
15 Fully committed
16 Cries at the
Home Run
Derby
17 Norwegian
coastal horse?
19 Agitated state
20 Ring leader?
21 Parenthesis, e.g.
22 Dún Laoghaire’s
land
23 Largest division
of Islam
24 Excellent joke?
26 Alpine transport
28 2010 sci-fi
sequel subtitled
“Legacy”
29 Grassy stretches
32 Map line
35 “A Doll’s House”
playwright
38 “The Martian”
has none
39 Where a sensei
teaches how to
slalom?
41 Stat for Chris
Sale
42 Pronunciation
symbol
44 PBS science
series
45 Small racer
46 Barbershop part
48 McGregor who
plays two roles
on TV’s “Fargo”
50 “We sure fell for
that one, Jack,”
e.g.?
54 Jungle vine
58 Big star
59 Lincoln Ctr. site
60 PBS science
series
61 Brit’s floor
covering
62 Was yanked
offstage ... or
what four puzzle
answers did, in
a way
64 Fuss
65 Dvorák’s
“Rusalka,” for
one
66 Instead
67 Scandinavian
name meaning
“cliff”
68 Block
69 Sunflower edible
DOWN
1 They’re kept
under wraps
2 Pear variety
3 Contempt
4 Raises
5 Guitarist’s gadget
6 “Aladdin” prince
7 __ nerve
8 Petrol unit
9 Vehicle with
caterpillar treads
10 Often-cosmetic
procedure
11 View from Corfu
12 Sound from a tree
13 Competitor of
Helena
18 Small amount
24 Abdomen
neighbor
25 Chamber music
group
27 Storied craft
29 “__ Miz”
30 “You get the
idea” letters
31 Light hair color
33 Brouhaha
34 Matthew Arnold’s
“__ Beach”
36 Be off
37 Bryce Harper, for
now
39 Ornamental band
40 Talk
43 Belgian language
related to French
45 Deli snacks
47 Ra, in ancient
Egypt
49 Cosmetic
additive
50 Rejects suddenly
51 Jerk
52 Mr. Magoo, for
one
53 Santa’s reindeer,
e.g.
55 Whac-__
56 Rope loop
57 FAQ part
60 Scorch
63 Amount past due?
By Paul Coulter
©2018 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
09/20/18
Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle
Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis
09/20/18
ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:
Release Date: Thursday, September 20, 2018
I don’t remember when I began
stanning Nicki Minaj. However,
I do remember memorizing her
verse off Trey Songz’s “Bottoms
Up” in middle school. Not far
from when I ran on the treadmill
in my parents’ basement with
“Superbass”
coming
through
my headphones — the girl I had
a crush on at the time loved it so
I wanted to seem with it. I can
picture an old high school friend
running, jumping and singing to
“Starships” at a student council
conference.
After
getting
my
license sophomore year, I would
visit my sister at Grand Valley State
(about a two-hour drive from my
parents’) and on one trip I came
across “Va Va Voom” — another
Pink Friday: Reloaded-era song —
which has a flow to its booming
chorus that gives the impression it
has been heard before. Not that it
is unoriginal, but that its emotive,
infectious sound is one that we
shouldn’t be without. In my head,
it’s the B-side to “Pound the Alarm,”
which I recall playing at my junior-
year homecoming. I asked my date,
“What song is this?” and she was
appalled that I didn’t know. Either
way we had our first kiss that night
on the sweaty, stanky public school
cafeteria
dancefloor.
“Roman’s
Revenge” left me comfortable
using the word “cunt,” to my
mother’s dissatisfaction.
But it was in 2014, with
“Anaconda” and The Pinkprint, that
my relationship to Minaj’s music
became less perfunctory and more
proactive. Everyone remembers
the music video so I don’t need to
go into detail, but the combination
of the verses’ sharp and slick
delivery and the unapologetic love
for having a fat ass was a pivotal
moment in pop culture and hip hop.
It’s an era that feels both historical
and present, as Nicki Minaj has
ridden The Pinkprint’s success (in
terms of critical response, sales
and singles) for nearly four years,
having released her follow-up
album Queen last month, if you
hadn’t heard.
Stanning is time-consuming,
especially depending on who you
stan. Stanning a punk-rock band
like The Wonder Years as my
friend Dominic has done for years,
requires time and endurance to
keep up with constant touring.
Stanning Britney Spears, as my
old roommate does, requires the
exhaustive task of maintaining
her relevance without falling back
completely on her 2000-2010
success. Stanning is continuous,
evolutionary.
It
creates
a
community: The Beyhive, The
Navy, Swifties, Directioners … you
get the idea. A key distinction to
be made is the incompatibility of
stanning a problematic fave, which
is where my devotion to Minaj
began to crumble.
I saw her tour in support of
The Pinkprint the summer of
2015 and was so disappointed. A
slew of aspects including flow,
choreography, vocal performance
and setlist choices left the show
with an uneven energy that
contradicted the woman at its
center. Still, I teared up as she
professed personal history in tour
and album opener “All Things
Go.” This may have been a case of
excessive expectation on my part
and my inner devotion to Minaj
dwindled slightly, as I figured I
most likely wouldn’t go see her live
again. The price-to-payout ratio
just didn’t seem there.
Fast-forward to Oct. 2016. I
stan Beyoncé, and because I’m not
fake, I have a Tidal account. Sorry
not sorry, but I can’t risk being
even a minute late to whatever
the Queen B is up to. Nonetheless,
Tidal has a handful of other cool
features,
including
artist-made
playlists,
exclusive
interviews,
album-films and live streams/
recordings of Tidal charity shows
and Budweiser’s Made in America
Festival, headlined by Beyoncé in
2015, Rihanna in 2016 and Nicki
in 2018. Tidal’s annual charity
show in Brooklyn offers quick sets
from a stacked lineup of artists
and, in 2016, Minaj sold me on
her performing abilities during
her 20-some-odd-minute set as
she barreled through verses from
“Roman’s Revenge,” “Monster,”
“Down in the DM,” the “Pinkprint
Freestyle,” “Chi-Raq” and “Only,”
among others. With minimal back
tracks, her MC skills were front-
and-center, delivering her bars
with equal parts ease and attitude.
Furthermore,
the
transitions
between tracks kept the energy
going and the crowd on their toes.
At this point my stanhood was
back in full swing, just in time for
the rapper to litter the following
year with spotlight-stealing guest
spots on tracks from Gucci Mane,
Lil Uzi, A$AP Ferg, Future, Fergie,
Katy Perry and more.
Following her feature on “Make
Love” by Gucci (which dropped
just in time for my Mardi Gras trip
to New Orleans), Remy Ma released
“ShEther,” which displayed the
bars and bravado of Nicki’s TidalX
performance over the course of six
minutes, all the while accusing the
rapper of plastic surgery, signing
a 360, supporting her pedophile
brother and doing cocaine. Nicki
came back with her “Three Pack
from Paris,” in which “No Frauds”
was positioned as her response,
but with time-consuming features
from Drake and Lil Wayne, it felt
less like a headshot and more like
a flex.
As 2017 passed, Remy faded
again
and
Nicki
remained
prevalent by way of her features.
Features that largely distracted
from the fact we were going on year
three without a proper Pinkprint
follow-up. There were rumblings,
there were teases and with each
passing season, the stakes seemed
higher and higher. The sense of
drag, in my experience, was only
outmatched by the waiting period
for Frank Ocean’s Blonde and every
Beyoncé project ever since 2013’s
surprise, eponymous album.
Finally, Nicki announces Queen
via her twitter, slated for a Jun.
release, which was quickly pushed
back to Aug. (I assume this was
due to a tip from Camp Carter that
Everything is Love was coming
that week). It was within those
two months my devotion, amongst
others,
started
to
dissipate.
Something I believe Nicki herself
can feel. I mean, she tweeted about
#Queen every day between the
first release date and the actual one
and still only grabbed the number
two spot, and we all know how
she feels about that. This palpable
sense of insecurity permeates
through Minaj’s twitter, maybe due
to natural mid-career crisis tingz,
or a response to the threat of Cardi
B, who is one of the few women
rappers to find lasting popularity
in a post-Pink Friday rap landscape.
Her presence, amplified by
Queen Radio on Apple Music,
comes off as someone who is
yelling the loudest to cover up
the fact they don’t have much to
say. She has stated the majority of
Queen was recorded the week of
its release and my initial response
to that was, “Ooff it sounds like
it.” It’s a dense record at 19 tracks,
with more than a few skips. It
hardly sounds as if it has been four
years in the making, or helmed by
a lyricist/rapper of Minaj’s caliber.
It fails to dive as deep as Pinkprint
cuts, “All Things Go,” “The
Crying Game” or “Buy a Heart.”
Nonetheless, while it lacks overall
quality and substance, Queen does
have moments of hip-hop gold.
“Barbie Dreams,” “LLC,” “Good
Form” and “Miami” represent the
actualization of Minaj’s constant
flexing on the record.
But a lot of the time, stanhood
isn’t solely based on one’s music,
which
explains
the
existence
of Britney Spears or Katy Perry
stans in the year 2018. Stanning
comes from a sense of connection
to an artist and their work, and
it is sustained over time by the
intra-fandom
community
and
culture. As an artist grows, so
does their brand, music and space
in popular culture. Miley Cyrus
is probably the most clear-cut
example of artistic transition and
the subsequent regrouping of a
fan base to continue the practice
of stanning, if one chooses to do
so. Miley’s Bangerz era was fun,
and I stanned the fuck out of it,
but that foundation began to crack
as she tone policed Minaj in an
interview and continued to show
ignorance in place of openness
and understanding. Then she
went country, and I jumped ship,
as did many. Can you name a song
off Younger other than “Malibu”?
Yeah, me neither.
The unravelling of my “barb”
status concretely began when
Minaj shamed sex workers after
releasing “Rich Sex,” (a bop) on
which she says, “If you know your
pussy worth a benz truck.” Such
comments stem from common
misunderstandings
regarding
agency
and
empowerment,
especially
in
regard
to
sex
work. It’s perhaps this same
misunderstanding that led Minaj
to collaborate with 6ix9ine, a
soundcloud rapper and convicted
sex offender.
Furthermore, she added the
collab to a deluxe version of Queen
to increase numbers, released
a music video for the track and
bragged about fighting MTV to
allow him to perform alongside
her. You know you’re in deep
when MTV is like, “nah too risky
for us.” He pleaded guilty to using
a child (a 13-year-old) in a sexual
performance
after
the
girl’s
mother pressed charges following
his admitted uploading of child
pornography to social media.
Contextualized,
the
cartoon
video for the track leaves an even
more bitter taste in my mouth. He
has mitigated responsibility by
claiming he, himself was a “child”
when the recording took place and
Minaj evades the serious issues
at stake, simply vouching for him
personally and leaving it at that.
He was set to open for the
U.S. dates of the NickiHndrxxx
tour,
which
has
now
been
cancelled.
Minaj’s
camp
can
claim “production issues” all they
want, but simply told, it wasn’t
selling. I know because I spend a
bit of freetime on Ticketmaster,
considering and fantasizing about
shows I can and can’t afford to go
to. And if it’s not selling when the
album comes out, I doubt it will
sell better next year. I wonder what
percentage of would-be attendees
decided to skip as to not support
a confirmed, confessed abuser.
Prior to their collaboration and
announcement of openers, I was
playing it by ear; you know, seeing
if I have the money the day of and if
so, amazing, if not, it’s OK. But once
she hitched her wagon to his, the
decision was made for me.
It’s understandable why Nicki
Minaj is quick with her shield and
even quicker to return fire: She has
been in hip hop for over a decade,
dodging shots of sexism and double
standards for years all the while
breaking up the boy’s club to a
degree her predecessors didn’t.
Nonetheless, she was able to do so
because of those who came before
her: Lil Kim, Remy Ma, Missy
Elliot, Lauryn Hill, etc. all paved
the way just as Nicki has carved a
smoother path for Cardi B.
It’s this legacy, though, that
Minaj seems least interested in
as she tears down women around
her in order to maintain a sense
or
appearance
of
legitimate
superiority. She did so recently by
recalling Lady Gaga’s collaboration
with confirmed abuser R. Kelly
in order to mute criticism over
her 6ix9ine feature; however,
she failed to recognize how Gaga
axed the song’s video and released
another version with Christina
Aguilera instead of Kelly to pull
attention. This isn’t to say Gaga is
blameless, but she recognized a
mistake and took actions to remove
an abuser from the spotlight.
All of this occured prior to the
mainstreaming of the #MeToo
and #TimesUp movements, so one
might expect Nicki to have a more
enlightened response instead of
bringing the abuser on stage at
Made In America festival and then
stepping off the stage to give him a
solo song.
Made in America was the final
straw that broke this barbz’s back.
The set lacked the energy and
presence of TidalX 2016, and it
included solo songs from Ferg and
Uzi in addition to the abuser all
in under an hour (short as hell for
a headlining slot). Hardly Queen
tingz, if you ask me.
Finally, her response to Cardi’s
shoe toss was equally disappointing.
On Queen Radio, she complains of
her embarrassment in front of the
“upper echelon” (read: Cardi is
hood, if you didn’t know), but even
worse than the classist rhetoric she
has engaged in is her invocation of
postpartum depression as reason
for the scuffle. Cardi has been open
about post-birth struggles, which
led her to cancel her opening spot
on Bruno Mars’s 24k Magic Tour,
even going as far to share a meme
video with the caption, “This is
how postpartum got me.”
Nicki went off about how
hard and common postpartum
depression is, even giving out the
phone number for a helpline, but
the entire monologue was less so
a PSA than it is a shielded shot,
using Cardi’s honesty and post-
birth experience to discount her
feelings, reducing them to one
instance. Effectively Minaj negates
any wrongdoing by offering PPD
as a scapegoat to engaging in a real
conversation about herself, all the
while discounting the experiences,
emotions and actions of any new
mothers, especially those suffering
from postpartum depression. They
can speak for themselves, as can
Cardi, as can sex workers; I want
to hear Nicki talk about Nicki. But
just as with survivors of sexual
abuse and critics, Minaj has shut
out much of her public, only getting
a #2 and a cancelled tour in the
process.
One day, I hope to stan again,
but until I feel connection rather
than confusion toward Minaj, I’ll
be streaming the skipless Invasion
of Privacy. Oh, and “Good Form,” a
problematic favorite.
The unstanning of Nicki Minaj
CHRISTIAN KENNEDY
Daily Arts Writer
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
This summer, I attended a
summer composition program
with a friend. When we first got
our private lessons schedules,
I texted my friend to ask if she
was excited to study with the
guest faculty in attendance that
summer. I was not intimately
familiar with all their work but
some quick Wikipedia research
had shown me that they were all
quite accomplished.
My friend texted me to say
that she was concerned. The
world of student composers is
small and the world of female
composers significantly smaller
— my friend had heard that one of
the faculty members is “bad with
female students,” making them
feel uncomfortable. “Be careful
around him,” my friend had been
warned.
I wish I could say this fear
was unfounded, that my friend
was being overly cautious. I wish
I could say that this behavior
wouldn’t have been noticeable
in
my
extremely
limited
interactions with the faculty
member.
But this behavior was apparent
throughout the program, as
the
faculty
member
treated
the
female
composers
and
performers with sudden bouts
of condescension and thinly-
veiled contempt. To me, at
least, this faculty member was
obviously incredibly prejudiced.
To the other students, however,
“something
was
amiss,”
something that was probably
linked to the faculty member’s
eccentric, creative personality
type. My friend, too, was not
particularly disturbed by the
issue, at least not to the degree
that I was. She heard these
rumors second-hand, and even
then she had not heard of any
specific instance of inappropriate
behaviour. While I was obsessed
with these rumors, I could not
prove that this particular faculty
member was part of this problem.
Ever since this experience,
I have become obsessed with
the prejudice that seems to be
inherent to classical music. I
grew up in New York, studying
composition in New York City and
participating in what I thought
was a progressive and open-
minded cultural scene. I’d worked
with many female composition
teachers in my life, unfortunately
a rarity even in today’s world. I
had always considered myself to
be aware of the diversity problem
in classical music. I believed
in the diversification of the
canon. I believed in anonymous
applications and diversity and
inclusion
initiatives.
But
in
hindsight, I had never done
anything
to
challenge
the
larger culture that made these
initiatives
necessary.
In
my
blindness, I had contributed to
the problem even as I told myself
that I believed in the solution.
This experience brought past
issues that I had dismissed back
to the surface. What about the
allegations
of
a
relationship
between
a
student
and
a
composition teacher that I had
heard about? What about the
multiple allegations involving
another
composition
teacher
that I knew to be credible and
that I knew had not resulted
in any substantial action? And
perhaps most frighteningly, what
about the lack of diversity that
surrounds me every day as I head
to class or attend a concert? Why
was I only now rethinking my
responses to these incidents?
Though I may be particularly
ignorant, I would like to think
that my failure to recognize the
privileges I benefit from is quite
common. Classical music, after
all, is one of America’s least
diverse art forms. Approximately
80
percent
of
American
orchestras are conducted by men.
Only one woman (Marin Alsop)
conducts one of America’s top
professional
orchestras.
And
only 1.8 percent of orchestral
musicians are Black.
The more that I researched,
the more that I learned that I
was participating in an art form
that had spent hundreds of years
systemically oppressing women
and people of color. It is an art
form that those in power have
referred to as “high art,” a term
seeped in condescension and
hierarchical dominance. It’s an
artificial standard that has been
used by the powerful to dismiss
all other forms of music as
“lesser” music, “popular” music
(as though this was somehow a
bad thing), “vernacular” music.
Had I been participating in the
perpetuation of this culturally
repressive system? By consuming
classical music, had I been aiding
in this continued system of
dominance? Was my attendance
at a concert a part of this problem?
Should I stop attending concerts
or listening to classical music?
I’ve been thinking about this
for a month and yet I am still
no closer to finding the answer
to these questions. I can say
that I have started obsessively
researching
organizations’
previous programming before
attending concerts. I have been
attending
more
concerts
by
and listening to more works by
women and people of color.
Though many of these rumors
will probably never affect me
directly, I’ve learned to consider
them anyway. If I find them to be
credible or at least believable, I’ve
realized that I have to share them
with others — not only because
it is important for the good of
others but because I cannot live
with myself if I truly believed
that I hadn’t done anything to
stop people such as the faculty
member I met over summer.
But as I’ve done this, I’ve
learned to be realistic in my
understanding of my own role
in the classical music world. Just
as no one person is the source of
these problems, no one person
can be the solution. Despite my
desires to speak of myself as part
of the solution, I’ve learned to be
realistic and honest. Yes, I am
aware of these problems. And
yes, I believe that I am doing
something to fix them. But I
cannot deny that I was unaware
of the severity of these problems
until this summer. And I cannot
claim that I have done anything
particularly
noteworthy
to
address these problems in the
classical
music
community.
While I would like to think of
myself as part of the solution, I’ve
learned that I cannot do so — that
I must avoid the complacency
that this would afford me.
Lastly, I’ve been thinking a lot
about the question of separating
the art from the artist. This is
a debate that I am sure that we
are all familiar with. A more
interesting question, in my view,
is the separation between the
artists and the artform. Should
classical music be dismissed for
its resistance to the increasing
diversity we see throughout
virtually all other facets of
American
art?
Critics
have
spoken for years of classical
music as a dying art form
becoming less and less relevant to
contemporary American culture
— should we let it die?
Ultimately, I believe that we
can separate the artists and the
artform. I am reminded of Missy
Mazzioli’s quote recently in her
interview with The New York
Times.
“This
music
belongs
to
everybody,”
she
said,
“and
everybody has their own way in.”
Rather
than
changing
an
artform from the outside, it’s
important to change it from the
inside — to actively challenge
those individuals and practices
that discriminate. It is time for
those of us that have benefited
from or been indifferent to
classical music’s discriminatory
practices to note and challenge
these practices. We must do all
we can to ensure that this music
does belong to everybody and
that everybody can find their way
in.
Separating the
artists and the
artform
SAMMY SUSSMAN
Community Culture Columnist
COMMUNITY CULTURE COLUMN
6 — Thursday, September 20, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com