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Meet Xavier Omär: The Crooner Putting Respect For Women Back At The Forefront Of R&B

Get familiar. 

Xavier Omär, wasn't supposed to be a singer. Let him tell it, spitting hot 16's with ease were the cards to be dealt for him. But here we are, on a balmy Saturday night in Miami, sitting in a chilled nightclub-turned-green room. Tonight, Omär's name is sandwiched between AlunaGeorge and Steven A. Clark's for Red Bull Sound Select's inaugural 3 Days in Miami showcase where he'll take center stage for a serenading session.

In just a matter of years, Omär, who many may have known as SPZRKT once upon a time, has taken his rare breed of R&B talents from his San Antonio bedroom to the internet to hundreds of unsuspecting individuals who learn about his undeniable artistry with when he steps foot on a stage. "I didn’t have anything when I started," Omär recalls. "My intention when I first made music was to just put it out in places and hope somebody would recognize and know it was me."

Today, the singer-songwriter has caught the attention of not only Red Bull's artist development program but indie label/creative crew Soulection with his sound that in one moment flips rhythm and blues on its head with elements of pop and jazz and breathes new life into an ever-evolving genre.

Here, Omär speaks with VIBE on his musically-inclined upbringing, the honesty and respect for women he's bringing back to R&B, coming into his own as an artist and more.

VIBE: How'd you get into music? 
Xavier Omär: My family actually sparked my interest in music - everyone is really, really talented. My dad and my brother, they both played bass guitar and piano was their main thing. They both produce. They both write. And they also play drums. My sister is this mega soprano. Matter fact, she’s on tour with one of the top gospel artists right now. And my mom, she did opera in college, like full out opera. So I was always around it. I played drums, but I didn’t really sing or write or anything like that. It wasn’t until I was 12. When my brother was in high school he had a three-man group, and he was producing. I just wanted to be like my brother. I decided to go just for it. Back then I was a rapper and did production for a little bit. I didn't really focus in on singing until I was 21. I’m 26 now. But being in that family, there’s just no way you weren’t going to be musically talented. So I really took it upon myself to not be the oddball, the non-great musical person in the family.

So, having such a musically-inclined family, what kind of music was on repeat? 
I was with my mom the most growing up so it was always gospel. I don’t think she plays anything but gospel still. It’s always some Fred Hammond, Kirk Franklin. So yeah, I didn’t hear a lot of diverse music growing up, which is weird because I’m extremely diverse now.

That's really interesting since your sound is so diverse. I'm interested in what your first CD you bought with your own money was. 
Bow Wow's Doggy Bag. I can't even remember how old I was but that was it. The first one I ever bought, my own money, tried to hide it from my mom and everything. I didn't want her to find it so I hid the case and just put the CD in my pocket when I was trying to listen to it. Eventually it just broke because I forgot it was in my pocket [laughs].

I feel like we don't give Bow Wow the credit he deserves.
He was a kid rapper and I was trying to be a kid rapper, too. So it was like, he was the dream that I wanted and it was the realization that it was possible, at least to me. Now, obviously people helping him write and all that. I didn’t know that. I was thinking my bars is fire. This is going to happen for me. I used to think I was going to be famous within two or three years of me starting my music. I was going to be a child star rapper. And there was nothing you could tell me because Bow Wow did it. And then there’s Romeo and then Corey. And Sammy was singing. I was like oh, it’s happening for me. So Bow Wow, he gave I think a lot of us who were starting music young, he gave us that confidence that we could do it.

Creating music is such a vulnerable thing so confidence is definitely a must. What made you give singing a try? 
I mean, I would sing here and there because I could, but it just wasn’t something I loved. In middle school, I had been going around trying to make my name in the school as a rapper. I was producing at that time, too, and I would bring cassette tapes of my beats recorded and have people listen. I ended up hearing about this dude at school who was rapping and started making beats for him. He ended up doing the school's talent show and the song he was going to perform had a chorus in it. I was like, ‘Yo, you should just sing that.’ He was like, ‘I can’t sing.’ So I did it. That was the first time I sang in front of a lot of people. From there, the chorus teacher tracked me down. I didn't really want to sing but she was like, 'You can sing. You need to be in chorus for us.’ Realizing that it was probably the easiest A of my life, I just did it. I had to do an audition, and I sang “Happy Birthday.” That kept me into singing. By the time I got to high school, I had a little group and would sing choruses on some songs, but I was fully dedicated to being a rapper. Once the group broke up, I did a solo song and people kept telling me how much they loved it. I figured I should try singing.

Let's get into your sound. Earlier I mentioned how diverse your sound is, but can you explain it for those that may have yet received their blessing just yet. 
Ah, man. The sound itself, it is completely difficult to describe, but just know that it’s always rooted in R&B. That's always going to be the foundation. But you’re going to hear elements of almost anything after that from gospel to pop to soul. In the past, you may even hear elements of country here and there. You’ll hear elements of rock because of the powerful vocals. But R&B is always the root. I actually try not to push outside of what that genre allows, too. That genre to me, is one of the most expansive genres. Erykah Badu, her early beginnings, you could say that was soul or neo soul, but in a lot of ways, that was R&B too. You can also fast forward now to Beyoncé and all of what she’s doing, and that’s still R&B. Even Frank Ocean is doing R&B, and those are all completely different sounds, but it still works within the constructs of the genre. So I try to touch a lot of those areas. I think that’s just the best way to really describe it.

What do you think you bring to the genre that it may be void of right now?
I think there’s a lot of honesty and a lot of respect, respect for women number one [in my music]. A lot of our favorite songs, when you look at it, it’s really misogynistic. It’s difficult to play that around if I had a niece or if I had a daughter. It’s weird because it’s enjoyable music. But it’s also not what I would want them to grow up hearing. So I think my difference is very much respect that I have for women, really making that a focus point because it’s just something I believe. If I’m a woman or whatever the role or position may be, I just think that respect should be equal. But I also don’t want to listen to music that’s saying how all men are dogs.  So from that standpoint, I shouldn’t be making music that has women being b***h and hoes and whatever it might be. So I’m just trying to make music that I wholeheartedly believe in and something that I know people can play for anyone. You could play for your kid, you could play for yourself, and everybody just be lifted.

So many people may actually know you as SPZRKT (Spazzy Rocket), which is the name you were going by for awhile Why the change to your actual name? Was it symbolic of anything? 
Growth in my own self number one. A lot of people wouldn’t notice if you haven’t seen me live, but Spazzy was almost like a character. The message in my writing is the same, but the look and feel of Spazzy was drastically different. I was wearing heavy draped clothing. I’m really an introvert, so a lot of that was built around Spazzy as a character. The fact that you couldn’t just simply read the name and say it. I didn't like taking pictures. I still don’t like them, but I didn’t take them a lot then. All those things were walls. So I'm just becoming my own self, Xavier Omar. Being my own full, free self, taking much more photos, having much more fun with people. And this allows me to be seen as myself instead of this character that I have to live up to for myself. And it works in business as well. Just the opportunity for people to look at a name and know how to say it. They know immediately. And we’ve seen a lot of great opportunity already. Like a month after we did the name change, we had a great opportunity. And I’m really glad it happened for this event. It was in time for this event because seeing Xavier Omar, seeing my name on some posters and stuff is really cool. And I just don’t know how I would’ve felt seeing Spazzy Rocket all downtown, people not being able to say it, and misspelling it online, and all this ridiculous stuff. So it made things a lot simpler and it made things better for the future of my career and I’m just able to be myself.

I know a lot of day one fans probably respect you for that because many artists today are shrouded in mystery to the point you can't necessarily connect with them, no matter how much you like their music.
Yeah, it was one of those things where it was just kind of time to just do something different, something more. I knew if I wanted to go further in my career, if I wanted to connect with more people, I had to get out of this shell I created. I think letting go of the name was a big piece of that as well. I played Afropunk recently and that was probably the most photos I’ve ever taken in a day ever. I wouldn't have done that in the past. It would’ve been like say thanks, leave, get some water, say what’s up to everybody in the back, and chill. But that was very different for me in a good way. It was very important that I took the time to go talk to people, to hear their stories if they had some, take some photos if they wanted one. And it's not only for me but to just be hope, so they could know this is a person, this is somebody who cares, and this is the position that they can be in one day.

I got to catch your set at Afropunk where you played on the Soulection stage. How'd you build a relationship with them?
Soulection is definitely my family and my friends, just not officially signed the paper work and things like that. They helped me tremendously to come up online. I had my first L.A. show because of them. One of my first outdoor shows was because of them. And then Afropunk, my first big festival, I’m on the Soulection stage. Every step of the way of my career, they’ve been there, whether it's Sango, Esta, Joe Kay. They’re always there for me.

That has to be really dope since their whole movement is catching momentum. I'm sure it also helps to have an influx of supportive, creative individuals around.
I didn’t have anything when I started. My intention when I first made music was to just put it out in places and hope somebody would recognize and know it was me. That was my sole intention for my first project. There were a couple of people who hit me up from that project, and the people that they knew started helping me. It just snowballed into where I am right now. The whole Soulection thing happened because Sango found my music online. On my second project, he found a song he really liked and just wanted to do one song with me. I had no idea who he was when he found me. From the song, he was like let's do a project out of nowhere, and here we are now talking about it all. So I really just took a big risk and said I’m going to go online and put my music out and hope somebody finds it. The people that found me have really helped me to get this far.

✨🙏🏾✨ 📷:@fullcrate

A photo posted by Xavier Omär (@xvromar) on

That's really dope how the internet has fostered such life-changing relationships for this generation. I know you were born in California and have lived everywhere from Japan to Maryland to Georgia, and San Antonio. You rep San Antonio the most. What's the music scene like there?
Yeah, that's where I started. Those are the people that have supported me when I was coming up. When I moved there is when a lot of stuff started happening for me so I can’t abandon them. At the time though, there wasn’t a scene. Matter of fact, I think recently got rid of one of the only up and coming local venues, White Rabbit. So the environment didn’t allow for us to consistently build a fan base and make a real community together, which is unfortunate. I don’t know if there’s many singers as far as the R&B community. Obviously, when you want to go into other genres like country and tejano, it's a place you really want to be. But people are there, they’re doing their thing. They’re trying to work hard. It’s just a matter of time. I think the area needs somebody to really go and represent it and then pull people up. It's just like how Drake really started repping Toronto and helped The Weeknd, Majid Jordan, PARTYNEXTDOOR and DVSN get into the positions they are today. It's not about the area not having talent, but the lack of a platform. I think San Antonio is the same way, and I want to be able to do that [for them].

So, now you've got yet another awesome support system in the artist development program that is Red Bull Sound Select. What's your experience with them been like so far? 
It’s amazing to be a part of Red Bull. And that’s all because of Amir Abbassy; he made that connect for us. They gave me an opportunity earlier this year to work with Hit Boy and do all this cool stuff with him. From there they started putting me on shows. The first one was actually with Sango and from there it's been D.R.A.M., Noname, Basecamp, just all these people. Overall, it really affirmed where I am and what I’m doing.

Aside from live shows, is there anything we can except from you before the year comes to a close? Maybe something we should keep our eyes peeled for or mark off on our calendars? 
Yeah, my EP is going to come out extremely soon. [I] don’t want to give an aim date because I don’t want people to start getting mad at me like they did Frank. But before the end of the year is definitely the plan, just not going to say the month. Sango and I are also working on our second project, which is going to come out early next year. So I’m excited to work with him on that. I don't stop. I don’t sleep; I just keep going.

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Tyler Perry, Popeye’s Chicken, And Who We Call ‘Coon’

Black shame has been something of an online talking point in recent weeks. From a chicken sandwich’s bemusing popularity, to a movie mogul opening a major studio on the back of a controversial cinematic legacy, big headlines have led to heated conversations about who or what embarasses us as Black folks. This is an ongoing discussion – about “coonery” and how it affects Black America and Black Americans’ perception of themselves. Filmmaker Tyler Perry’s successes, a stabbing at a Popeye’s chicken, and the resurrection of a blaxploitation cult classic have all offered interesting peeks into how we see the more polarizing aspects of Black popular culture.

But there’s still no clear answer to the question: who, or what, exactly, is a “coon?”

The opening of Tyler Perry’s studio in Atlanta has been hailed as a major event for Black Hollywood; a moment where Black ambition and individuality broke new ground for Black storytelling and ownership of that storytelling. But no Tyler Perry success is an easy thumbs-up; from the moment the writer/director/actor broke through with Diary Of A Mad Black Woman back in 2005, Perry has been a polarizing figure for Black critics and audiences. While beloved by his fanbase, Perry, with his broad folksy comedy characters and church fan messaging, has been blasted as a purveyor of “coonery” for years. Notables like Oprah Winfrey have remained staunchly pro-Perry, while fellow filmmaker Spike Lee was once one of his harshest detractors.

"Each artist should be allowed to pursue their artistic endeavors,” Lee said in an interview with Black Enterprise in 2009. “But I still think there is a lot of stuff out today that is 'coonery buffoonery'."

Perry responded to Lee in a 2009 60 Minutes interview. "I would love to read that [criticism] to my fanbase. ... That pisses me off. It is so insulting. It's attitudes like that that make Hollywood think that these people do not exist, and that is why there is no material speaking to them, speaking to us."

The idea that what Perry does is “coonery” is complicated and has always raised questions. Perry’s brand of screwball humor (particular in his Madea films and former sitcoms) isn’t all that different from slapstick and over-the-top characters that we’ve seen from the likes of Martin Lawrence and Marlon Wayans. Lawrence’s beloved 90s sitcom Martin had its detractors during its heyday (and now), but there doesn’t appear to be the same level of contempt as compared to Perry; judging from how popular his old show has remained, its fair to suggest that Lawrence is beloved by many of the same people who have seen Perry’s Madea movies as embarrassing. As Perry himself mentioned in his rebuttal to Spike Lee, he speaks to his fanbase—a base that largely goes ignored by many of the more critically-acclaimed Black storytellers in cinema. While auteurs like Lee or Barry Jenkins may speak to a specific type of urban experience, Perry has always been most connected to a sensibility that’s more southern, rural and Black Christian-leaning. The fact that his brand of more countrified broad humor is so unsettling for some Black folks indicates an ever-present sense of shame for country Black-isms--particularly when they’re presented in slapstick comedy. Perry has built his empire on Black audiences, yet certain Black critics have always acted as though that audience doesn’t matter. Who gets the final say on Blackness in entertainment?

There are other reasons people criticize aTyler Perry: a penchant for heavy-handed moralizing in his movies, a tendency towards colorism, questionable labor policies – that’s all valid. It’s just as valid as calling out Spike for the choices he’s made regarding female characters in his films, or addressing the colorism of Martin’s Pam jokes. But those specific criticisms aren’t inherently connected to “coonery” and what that uniquely damning insult signifies.

Eddie Murphy’s Dolemite Is My Name premiered on Netflix in October to widespread acclaim, with the Rudy Ray Moore biopic earning Murphy his best reviews in a decade. The film focuses on Moore’s determination to make his Dolemite comedy character a movie star, independently using family, friends and associates to get his movie off the ground. Hustling his way up from standup through hit comedy records to actually seeing his movie on the big screen, Moore is portrayed as a symbol of Black individuality and self-actualization. As I was watching his story unfold, I was reminded of the parallels to Perry. Like Perry, Moore and his team wouldn’t really be considered great filmmakers, but also like Perry, Dolemite’s appeal doesn’t really lie in craft or execution—Moore simply told stories that resonated with his particular audience. In one scene in ...My Name, when Moore watches an Indianapolis crowd guffawing at his low-budget blaxploitation spectacle, the sense of pride he feels isn’t just in what he’s accomplished, its in who he’s doing it for: an audience that wanted Dolemite humor and camp—an audience that existed even within the broader blaxploitation fanbase.

With so many raving about Dolemite Is My Name and Murphy, there’s a question of hindsight being 20/20 and how Black art is often policed through a sense of shame. How many of those applauding this 2019 biopic would have cringed seeing Dolemite in 1975, a jive-talking, pudgy quasi-pimp at the center of a shoddily made flick? Now, that story is being told with reverence and heart, and it speaks to how, once you can put some distance between time and place, it’s easy to see a bigger picture and celebrate the spirit--even when the end result may not be to your taste.

When Popeye’s now-mythic Spicy Chicken sandwich made its return last week, the online jokes and customer enthusiasm was met with criticism and handwringing from those who obviously felt Black folks were falling into a stereotype over fried chicken. When a news report revealed that someone had died violently at a Popeye’s over an argument while in line, many bemoaned how embarrassing Black folks had supposedly gotten over this sandwich. Of course, there wasn’t a widespread epidemic of chicken sandwich-related violence, it was just an incident that happened at a restaurant. But because the shame was already boiling over in some Black folks, this became a chance to finger-wag the culture for everything from poor eating habits to not supporting Black business to voter apathy. In a society that teaches us racism from the moment we are aware of race, it’s imperative that Black folks un-learn Black shame. And it’s time to stop running to “coon” any time you believe someone fits a stereotype racism taught you to be embarrassed by.

Black folks could stand to be a lot less embarrassed by Black folks.

Who “fits the stereotype” isn’t really what’s most damaging to Black people in America – it’s the fact that these stereotypes exist in the first place. Tyler Perry’s characters weren’t created by some outsider and foisted upon Black audiences from a place of derision; they’re affectionate parodies of his own family, written by and for someone who knows that churchy, southern voice and isn’t so ashamed by it that they can’t have a little fun with it. In the same spirit that we now applaud figures like Moore and southern rap impresarios like Master P (who built an empire with a No Limit Records label that catered to its audience while often being criticized for mediocrity by rap “purists” of the mid-90s). The shame in Popeye’s popularity, the shame in a Madea character, the shame in so much of what we see in Black people—is only there because racism put it there. Before deciding to speak against a Black creator as a “coon,” shouldn’t we be sure to not marginalize an audience? Black art is still Black art even when it doesn’t necessarily speak to your specific Black experience.

And beyond even art, maybe it’s past time that we just stop being so ashamed of Black people.

“Coon” has merit, no doubt. But when it’s tethered to a sense of embarrassment, it can become a weapon of respectability. Being who you are, telling your story, maintaining your voice—those things shouldn’t make you a “coon.” Even if your voice is loud and country, even if your voice is problematic in certain areas, even if your voice doesn’t match my own—you aren’t a “coon” until you begin shucking and jiving for the status quo; not just because you’re being you, regardless of whether they’re watching or not. That’s an important distinction that often gets lost in the haze of embarrassment. Using descriptors like “country” and “ghetto” as pejoratives is an indication that something taught us that these types of Black folks “make us look bad.” Believing that would mean that we’re buying into the lens of other folks. Do we really think Black experiences, Black voices should be shaped by how racism sees us? Because if so, that’s the real shame. 

Todd “Stereo” Williams is a writer/editor/media producer based in New York City. An outspoken veteran entertainment journalist, his work has been featured in The Daily Beast, XXL, Ebony and The Undefeated. He's also an accomplished screenwriter and documentarian who's co-produced films such as Exubia and Beautiful Skin.

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Solange Uses Her Divine Spirit To Calm The Mind And Body For "Bridge-s" Performance Piece

There's a serene feeling over the bodies standing in the iconic architecture at the Getty Center Museum. Jazzy horns, peaceful keys, and crisp guitar riffs gently interrupt the soothing silence as dancers dripped in marigold threads swayed to "Counting," a composition created by Solange. A series of odd numbers like "5", "7" and "9" are recited on a loop by half of her dancers while the others chant "6", "4" and "2." It's just a preview of her latest creation Bridge-s but felt like a dynamic meditation.

Bridge-s brings yet another magnetic piece into her series of interdisciplinary works that spawned after the release of her magnum opus, A Seat At The Table. The world was introduced to Solange's artistic side thanks to performance art pieces at the Guggenheim in New York and the Hammer Museum in Los Angeles.

Composed by Solange and choreographed by Gerard & Kelly, Bridge-s was created with the pillars, beams, and columns around the museum in mind. Dancers and the orchestra used the space to their advantage, with tuba players catching the peripheral of attendees from afar.

Four rollouts will take place November 16-17, curated with a selection of films that include Black to Techno by Jenn Nkiru, AFRONAUTS and Boneshaker by Nuotama Bodomo, The State of Things by singer-songwriter Kish Robinson (Kilo Kish) and more. In its entirety, Bridge-s was designed to explore "transitions through time."

This was felt throughout the performance piece as dancers move with the intent of love, internal struggle, and unity. In a stunning zine designed by Sablā Stays, Gerard & Kelly shared the emphasis behind their modernist and inclusive approach.

"Our work, like hers, is part of an interdisciplinary effort throughout the arts and humanities to redefine modernism by critically engaging its prevailing narratives. By accounting for differences of gender, sexuality, and race. By focusing on intimate and collective histories. By centering our work around the body, dance and movement," they said.

Solange also opened up about the importance the museum and the Elbphilharmonie Hamburg played in the performance piece. "Both Elbphilharmonie Hamburg and the Getty Museum have sure strong distinctive voices spatially, and so the intention is that all of the work, the movement, the language, the songs all align with those principles," she said. "Working with Gerard and Kelly, who share many of the same philosophies on their approach to interpreting time and space through performance has really built the foundation [for] the spirit of this collaboration."

Like the rest of us, the artist watched closely the dancers glide across the floor, while bandmembers release enchanting sonnets with vocalists dropping a few high notes in between. Guests like Thundercat (and his Pikachu backpack), Kilo Kish, Dev Hynes of Blood Orange and Tyler, The Creator were also left speechless after the performance.

“I just want to thank you guys for allowing me the space to evolve, experiment and express new frontiers,” Solange said to the crowd after the assembly provided endless cheers.

Learn more about Bridge-s and get free tickets here.

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Meet D Smoke, Inglewood And Hip-Hop's Next Hometown Hero

D Smoke is humble. The Inglewood native exudes an aura of maturation, needed for his quick ascension into popular culture as the first winner of Rhythm + Flow, Netflix’s hip-hop reality competition centered on the discovery of hip-hop’s next star. His signature authenticity shone throughout the 10-episode series and international audiences were drawn to his charisma as he proudly rapped about his lived experiences as a young black man in Inglewood.

“There’s such a rich history,” he says about his hometown, the inspiration for his forthcoming EP, over the phone. “I feel like it’s a beautiful but brief journey through my mind, my lived experiences, and the place that I’m extremely fond of.”

His musical confidence was displayed on the three-week series as he incorporated Spanish and live instrumentation to uplift the community-centered messaging embedded within his raps. Inspired by his childhood friends in Inglewood’s Latinx community, Smoke found music as unifier and way to remove barriers between Latinx and Black communities in his hometown. Demographics reflected in his students as a bilingual and music teacher at Inglewood High where he invests in the next generation of leaders.

He’s won an American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP) award with his older brother, Sir Darryl Farris aka SiR, for “Never,” a Billboard-charting song from Jaheim in 2007, and received songwriting credits for Ginuwine and The Pussy Cat Dolls projects.

As the show’s first winner, there’s an added level of pressure for the rapper who has completed three music videos and started work on a 15-track mixtape since the show’s release. In the midst of press runs, D Smoke opened up about his experience on Rhythm + Flow, his Inglewood High EP, and his next steps as an independent artist.

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VIBE: Tell me about Inglewood High, your latest EP.

D Smoke: Inglewood High is an EP about my experience coming up on Inglewood, going to Inglewood High, and teaching at the high school after I graduated from UCLA. It’s an important project for me because Inglewood High School holds stories for me as a student and teacher. There are so many youngsters that I had the privilege of teaching that still walk those hallways and are walking the same path I did. I thought it was only right to start with this project first; some of the songs are about my experience, while others are about trends or stories that I often heard growing up in Inglewood. I took a third person approach to tell these stories; some bright, some dark, but they really capture what’s going on in the city.

In a Time interview, you stated Rhythm + Flow’s authenticity around cyphers and battles undid your skepticism. Could you speak about your transition process from being a bilingual teacher into a contestant on the show?

As a teacher, you’re performing every single day, right? Your students are your harshest critics, so performing wasn’t nerve-wracking for me. It was more that I didn’t want to subject myself to the critique of another artist. In the later rounds, I was unsure that their biases would either serve in my favor or to my detriment. So it wasn’t the nerves of performing, but how would they receive and understand my art? Because I believe the audience...before I went on the show, I knew that there’s a large audience for what I do. Submitting to three judges is very different, but by the time we had gotten into the later rounds, I felt like they appreciated what I was doing artistically and creatively. By the end of it, they thought of me as a peer.

Towards the later episodes, you incorporated live instrumentation into your performances which won over Cardi, T.I., and Chance. Is the next direction for your artistry going to implement live band performances?

Going into the show, my goal was to do that before I left. [With] the last round’s challenge of making a live performance, I was like, “Okay, this is the time where we’re going to pull that rabbit out of the hat, so to speak, and show them my musicianship side.” To be honest, I’m a musician first. My first love was playing piano. My mom is a music instructor and minister of music. Since the age of six, I’ve been playing the piano. That’s going to be a huge part of my artistry; to the same extent that playing the drums, singing, and rapping. It speaks to me authenticity as an artist, creative, and musician.

Being on the show has developed your relationship with the audience, in addition to your original support system of Inglewood. How do you feel about having fans around the world who have fallen in love with your music during your time on Rhythm + Flow?

To keep it completely honest, the reception has been amazing. I’m getting messages from all over the world. People love what I did and represented on the show while being entertained by it at the same time. I think when you combine somebody believing in your message, but being thoroughly entertained by your presence, I feel like that’s a true impact on the audience. I’m really overwhelmed by how much love people are pouring out and the messages. I’m trying to read as many as possible, but I’m only one guy. My following grew from 7,000 followers prior to the show to 700,000 and counting, and that’s in less than a month.

 

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We climbing the Charts!!! Let’s push it to #1 #share #tellafriend #GodisGreat

A post shared by Supa Good (@dsmoke7) on Nov 9, 2019 at 12:31am PST

Some viewers waited until all episodes of Rhythm + Flow were on Netflix to binge-watch. Why do you think people should've watched and witnessed your evolution as an artist to step into confidence?

I think people should watch the entire journey; go back and do their detailed research because we aren’t necessarily doing different things than we were already doing. I speak in “we” because I have a strong team of people that were working with me to prepare for being on the show. When the audience watches my performance, it’s not like this is something that I haven’t already been doing. I look forward to seeing the growth in numbers of my previous works, whether it be Subtitles - the series that I did demonstrating my rapping ability in both languages and having fun over beats that I loved and influenced me. It’s super vital to go back and see the whole story because although I’m new to a lot of people, I’m not new to music by any means.

On Rhythm + Flow, Cardi referenced Kendrick Lamar in relation to your music. You have close affiliations with Top Dawg Entertainment, your brother SiR is Kendrick’s labelmate, and you’ve opened for the Pulitzer Prize winner in 2011 at the Whiskey A Go Go. Do you see yourself continuing your relationship with TDE?

 

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Today is my younger brother’s birthday. Same mom, same dad, same blood, same schools, same hair, same goals, but @InglewoodSiR is and will always be his OWN MAN. My younger bro opened doors for me that he may not even be aware of. He’s fearless and original. His music is DOPE as Fuck and he’s as real as they come. Go wish my lil bro @inglewoodsir of TDE a happy Birthday! LOVE YOU BRO! 7

A post shared by Supa Good (@dsmoke7) on Nov 5, 2019 at 7:42am PST

I like the way you put it..continuing that relationship. We’re neighbors; they’re less than 10 miles from me. I was my brother’s keyboard player and musical director while he went on tour with Miguel. For a couple of years, Top Dawg Entertainment has been somewhat of a home base in the sense that I’m supporting their works indirectly. What TDE is to my brother or was to my brothers in terms of the platform to allow his following to grow exponentially. It’ll be more of a partnership where there’s an open dialogue about best practices to collaborate with artists, how we can plan community events, and coordinating impactful things. It’s opening the door for me to collaborate with my brother, similar to how we started off, and have the full support of TDE. That’s something I’m excited about and look forward to sharing.

Are you hoping to bring the spotlight to Inglewood similar to TDE’s upliftment of Compton? On Rhythm + Flow, you rapped about the familiarity of victims of fatal police shootings, because everyone in Inglewood knows each other.

I’m certainly looking to put Inglewood on the map. A lot of things are happening on the business development side with the stadium being built and the rise in property values. I’m looking to make investments in property and building connections within the city to continue education and community development work. My background is in mentorship, so being a visible face in the public, championing youth-driven programs is something I look forward to doing.

Do you plan on using your cash prize to start educational programs at Inglewood High and give back to your students who inspired your performances in the competition?

I’m looking forward to doing the scholarship. I’ve initiated the conversations with the city of Inglewood and Inglewood High School. We’re going to have an event to celebrate. I want to see the marching band come out and play the same cadences they played when I was there. I want to drive the energy back towards competitive academics because that’s what Inglewood was for me. It may not have that reputation but I can go back and name all of the teachers who had that impact and pushed me into being an academically competitive student.

Since winning Rhythm + Flow, you’ve gained a greater following and secured a series of upcoming collaborations. Are you aiming to remain independent, reflective of your underground spirit?

I haven’t altered how I move through the world since winning Rhythm + Flow. I’m always seeing my family, eating healthy, getting my workouts in, and connecting with people that I love, admire or respect. Engaging in different texts and conversations that really keep me sharp. Those things aren’t going to change. We also got business endeavors that keep me sharp and very grounded in conversation. I’m not concerned with the about of new publicity, altering how I operate. It’s cool and flattering, but prior to this, I knew exactly what I’m here to do and those things are still in motion.

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