M.I.A.: Fixing the glitch

And talking the talk
By DANIEL BROCKMAN  |  October 6, 2010


Monday night, mid-set on stage at Royale, it almost seemed like Maya Arulpragasam, a/k/a M.I.A., had had it.

FULL TRANSCRIPT: The Phoenix interviews M.I.A.

PHOTOS:M.I.A. live at Royale. By Christopher Huang.

She was perched atop the PA speakers stage right, and as is usual for her, she was having microphone issues. The song she was singing was from her new album, Maya (Interscope), and the chorus went, "All I ever wanted was my story to be told." As she sang this simple plea, huge shards of feedback pierced the air. By song's end, it was too much: she tossed her mic off the stacks, and it hit the ground with a whump! As she found her way down from the speakers, it was clear that she was going to have to do a little work to get this whole set back from the brink of oblivion.

It's a feeling that M.I.A., a Sri Lanka-via-London indie-pop-rap dynamo, knows well — not just the occasional sound issue at a gig, but trying to find a way to be heard above the din, to tell her story in the face of adversity. This would seem to be an odd predicament for her — after all, since the 2008 left-field success of her Clash-sampling single "Paper Planes," it almost seems like the music world has been bombarded with non-stop M.I.A. But when I catch up with her on the phone a few days before the Royale gig, she explains that just because you have everyone's attention doesn't mean that they're listening.

"At the end of the day, it's really difficult to be heard," M.I.A. says, in a patient and measured tone. "Even though people are like, 'Okay, we hear you, we hear you, you've got this hit song,' they didn't really hear me. And it left me wanting to spend more time with figuring out who I was. I felt like the only person who could help me was me. And there's no point going to other people for help, being like, 'Hey, there's this shit going on.' "

The "shit going on" that M.I.A. refers to is the Sri Lankan government's 2009 defeat of the country's Tamil insurgents, with thousands of reported civilian casualties amidst the violent end of a bloody and prolonged civil war. It isn't the typical cause célèbre of a newly minted pop star — but then again, M.I.A. has always been hell-bent on proving that she isn't a typical star, or even really a star at all.

As I talk to M.I.A., our conversation constantly returns to the theme of helplessness in the face of tragedy. In 2008, M.I.A. made a public retirement from music, evidently quitting at her peak. By that point she had already spent four years zipping from complete unknown to an Internet phenomenon who turned the world of indie music upside down — first with the viral pipe-bomb that was her first single, the infectiously bizarre "Galang," and then three years later with "Paper Planes," a weird tune that combines a joyous reggae lilt with a chorus of gunshots. But the success combined with the turmoil of her home country was, in a sense, one juxtaposition too many.

1  |  2  |  3  |   next >
Related: Teenage Fanclub are back on the scene, Photos: KMFDM + Army of the Universe + Human Factors Lab at Club Royale, Photos: DJ Pauly D at Royale, More more >
  Topics: Music Features , Music, Sri Lanka, Dancehall,  More more >
| More

Most Popular
Share this entry with Delicious
  •   THE STROKES | COMEDOWN MACHINE  |  March 18, 2013
    The Strokes burst out in a post-9/11 musical world with a sound that was compact and airtight, melodies coiled frictionlessly in beats and fuzzed vocals.
  •   KMFDM IS A DRUG AGAINST BORE  |  March 13, 2013
    "In hindsight, honestly, it's almost impossible how it all happened."
  •   PALLBEARER SURVIVE EXTINCTION  |  February 20, 2013
    We all know that there is nothing more metal than a war.
  •   WHAT'S F'N NEXT? CHVRCHES  |  February 01, 2013
    If you are in a band and you've heard of Chvrches, you probably hate them.
  •   GLISS | LANGSOM DANS  |  February 01, 2013
    If rock and roll is three chords and the truth, then the mutant genre offspring shoegaze can be summed up as one chord, three fuzzboxes, and a sullen, muttered bleat.

 See all articles by: DANIEL BROCKMAN