Author: nikkie

From an early age, music has been an influential force in Nikkiesha’s life. From the time they discovered Michael Jackson and wanted to sing and break dance like the King of Pop, to being so consumed that Nikkiesha and their siblings performed talent shows in their living room while their parents were both audience and judges, they knew the importance of music. Nikkiesha (Nikkie) grew up with music around them! In addition to countless talent shows, their home was literally seconds away from a panyard - Panosonic Connection Steel band Orchestra’s panyard. On many late nights, when they should have been asleep, Nikkie’s parents would find the seven year old perched at their bedroom’s window listening to the orchestra practice for the largest steelpan competition in the world: Panorama. Nikkie’s older brother played the tenor pan for the orchestra. It was witnessing their brother practice which ignited their mesmerized obsession with the instrument. Nikkie took any opportunity to try and play the song their brother was practicing. They didn't care how much noise they made, or how many times they got into trouble for beating their brother’s tenor pan. Nikkie couldn't resist the pan’s allure. Their love and passion for the steel-pan never died after the age of seven, as twelve year old Nikkie, determined to be a part of the steel-pan culture, began running away to the panyard, and giving the rehearsal director hell - picking up the orchestra’s panists’ sticks and beating any of the unattended steel-pans. At the time, they were unaware of the difference between beating and playing the pan or any other percussive instrument. The rehearsal director started them off on the Gurndig - better known as the Double Guitar. The Gurndig is similar to the rhythm guitar in a rock band. He told Nikkie if they can learn and master how to play the Gurndig well, they could then move onto their desired pan: the shiny chrome tenor, the soprano, the lead pan in the orchestra. Knowing they weren’t going to stop running away to Panosonic's panyard, Nikkie’s dad decided to become the orchestra's manager. As Nikkie got older, they began listening to R&B, Blues, Jazz, Rap/Hip-Hop and Rock music. To their great enthusiasm to hear and experience different forms of music, after migrating to the US, Nikkie was exposed to sub-genres and even more diverse sounds. Inspired they began to play different instruments: acoustic guitar, the congas, and the drum-kit. Eventually spending more time behind the drum-kit, Nikkie began playing with various rock and punk groups. Most notable, the woman fronted rock trio Telenovela Star whose single, "Car Song" was the theme music for The N Channel’s Beyond The Break. After many years of playing behind the drum-kit, Nikkiesha is bringing all that they have learned to create and produce their first album, which is a tribute to their late mother and brother.

This is the Sense:Worship!

We only have weekends together

because that is the time we believe allowed for us to have sex

to become familiar again

yeah we have during the wee hours, between 8pm and 12am, during the week’s hours

and the minutes we spend talking to each other, through the visceral space of nothing

we could spend that time typing a memo, haunting a bait 

so as to secure our membership towards the work force, and wait for something secure

it rents with worry, and the food, we feel guilty eating, the clothing we dream dressing into 

when the season changes it’s no inconsequence at all

but, together at last…

Hypnotized

smoking too much on a promise…

drinking too much on a rhyme

pulsating on broken associations

looping on the first dulled shock

shattered into millions of misdirected dulled messages

aligthing unresolved triggers, ablazed

breathing a familar piece, a place

that touches on knowing too much

smelling the same sentiment

presenting incomplete, repeatedly

seeing the same kaleidoscopic sky

clapping the same kinetic wave

colliding with monstrous visions

I knock myself unconsicous

To Be Yourself?

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’ve been thinking about these bathroom incidents quite a lot, since, even before I understood what my undergrad Spanish professor meant when she asked me what sex I was.  I began thinking about it long before her awkard imposition.  I thought about it, not in the bathroom, but while I was filling out an awkward form, and I stumbled upon what box I should put an X against.   I was fourteen.

But lately, I’ve been thinking about how I could lessen the awkward introductions in the bathroom.  Awkward and jolting, a problem if only I would decide where my queer life could possibly project towards: should I finally decide to be feminine and wear some makeup, some accessories, should I become a man and have a sex change?  A direction, we’re all certain of.  Certainly, I won’t have people questioning my gender or insisting on where I should or shouldn’t be.  It would be clear cut, defined, no gray area to fear.  Especially in the bathroom, I can puke all this up in peace.  Because that’s all anyone wants when they take a piss, peace.

I am black, I am a black woman.  I am a black woman from the Caribbean, I am a black woman from the Caribbean, I am a black, Caribbean, gay, lesbian, queer, bisexual, transgendered…  My rights as a human being; a consenting, existing human being has nothing to do with your bible, or what you foresee as your economic growth.  Your imagined entitlement!

And if yours and mine, Republican or Democrat, our leaders, that are so afraid of speaking the truth, so afraid of what it would cost their utopian display of a plastic image, a glass life that easily shatters after the first year that either one of them are in office, they don’t have to imagine for me: I am not afraid.  I’m not afraid of votes, battalions, or guns!

Bathroom Incident #5

It happened again. I went to the bathroom at my job, and this woman who I’ve seen around the office for as long as I’ve been working at this organization (5 years), questioned my place in the women’s bathroom. I’m quite sure that today wasn’t the first time that she’s seen me around, and even though the organization has been growing rapidly, and yes there’s always a new face every week, you would have to try really hard not to notice me for five years.

Anyway, bathroom incident #5 occured today at 10:00am.  I was combing my afro as she was coming in the bathroom, and she did a double take, to make sure that she was in the correct bathroom, then satisfied that yes, it is indeed the women’s bathroom, she asked, “Are you sure you are in the right place?” I was pretty much expecting her to say something after she did a double take, so I asked her, “Are you sure, you’re in the right place?” No response.

Mind you, there’s probably less than 40 people on my floor and the bathrooms are not open to the public. If you’re a visitor, you’d have to go through the receptionist first to even gain access into any of the offices. Basically, it’s very unlikely that I was a confused stranger using the bathrooms. And again, I have been working at this organization for 5 years. I’ve seen this woman around and she has seen me.

Bathroom Incident # 4 occurred last week Monday.  This guy, who I’m 100% certain has seen me around, because we’ve been on the elevator together, I’ve said hello to him and he has said hello to me. So really when I was walking into the women’s, and he was like, “That’s the women’s bathroom,” twice, he doesn’t have an excuse (at this point no one does) because he heard my voice, and quite frankly you’re just a complete dumbass if you’re still confused about my sex/gender after listening to my voice. You would be at least cautious of making any judgments aloud, and thus making a fool of yourself.

Bathroom Incident # 3 occurred in 2005.  The following remark was made when I entered the bathroom, “Now I know why this bathroom feels so masculine,” she said looking straight at me. There aren’t any urinals in the women’s bathroom at my job.  The lighting is state of the art in the bathroom.  However, it’s very cool in the women’s bathroom at my job, and at times “feels” to me pretty sterile. So maybe that was her reasoning behind those words, because I really don’t see how me using the women’s bathroom has suddenly changed the “feel” of it. Under my buttoned down skirt, I have breasts, and beneath my slacks and my underwear, is my pussy.

Bathroom Incident # 2 occurred in 2004. “This is the women’s bathroom. You’re in the women’s bathroom.” I said, “Do you want to come in here with me to check, to make sure?” No response.

Bathroom Incident # 1 occurred in 2003. Combatively, she said over and over again, “You are in the wrong place… You should know better than to use the women’s bathroom. You’re in the wrong place.” I was in complete shock, I didn’t know what to say to her, because I had only been working at the job for at most 3 months.

I work for a successful non-profit arts organization. Even though the workforce is fairly large for a non-profit, it’s not like a big conglomerate where you don’t know (at least by face) a fellow employee. You’d see each other on the elevator, at parties, at all staff meetings, etc. And since, I’ve been working there for the length of time mentioned above, I’m deeply disturbed and disappointed by all of this. Like everyone working full-time, I spend nearly all of my life at this job, and so I should never have to feel this way every time I use the bathroom.  No one should feel like this.

I’ve written about this issue before.  And I’m sure I’ll be writing about it again.

Architecture of “You”

There’s nothing “Indie”, in·de·pend·ent about You…

Doesn’t it sound good though, ìndə péndənt

and to think without conjunctions

connecting

that fickle clause:

the making of a tastemaker

one who defines taste

based on

nothing other than what you are not to them

and the what we’re all rebelling against

a zeitgeist however small.

You’ll remember such a moment.

I wish I had thrown

my opinion through a window

smashing the enclosure of me

and then relinquished it in the irony of a blog

for all to view and to follow in weekly segments.

To hate…

To agree…

To dismiss…

To wonder about…

To trend…

And then define like a science.

What is new and what is not:

the what a terrible to look and to listen to.

The unorthodox use of expression

would have been mine to oversee

because I can, however public

because I obviously need

to be a part of the Fickler.

Even during work breaks

or after hours

there’s always

a need for a benchmark

however drunkard and desperate

to see and hear

of a relentless muse

that will continue to be the ultimate chaperone.

Restart Later

Knowing you

is a flash of flam·boy·ance

a blacken scheme

blacken black, stupid sures foes a system(s)

that lights on count

as you want me to sit beside you

while knowing is what you’ve tolerated

what you never wanted as acceptance

on your stupid shoulders

Moving

with purpose, prepare the boxes
with tape and cleansing powder
removal of all, small sparks of a glance
all that was suppose to resemble permanence
a long tale towards dementia, a small unpleasant trail
of spotted associations
split at the end with dots of potential use, or useless information
pile into a box, discard upon arrival
there’s no more space for their meaning
departing

OBJECT

OBJECT is one of my favorite NYC indie rock bands. I first met these guys back in 2006, when my band was sharing a bill with them for a DJ Mojo show at Trash bar. I was immediately moved by the amount of power and noise that this duo dished out. It restored this belief I’ve had, if you’re creative and talented enough, anything is possible. But of course, this was before I realized that creativity and talent doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have the money to support the potential.

Since that night in July, 2006, my not so secret crush on Object has grown into a full blown obsession, so much so that both my lover and I have become familiar fixtures at an Object show. Well, not every show, but we did catch them at Crash Mansion this past Friday night. And they have excelled further, even as they played tunes from possibly their first EP.

After a listening session of Object’s latest album, Black Swan, a good friend of mine puts it well, “[Object] reminds me of a renovated, improved Soundgarden…” Honestly it took Soundgarden four players to invent and sustain such a swell of an all encompassing sound. Yeah you can argue that it’s all production, but if you’ve been to any of Object’s shows (even at the shittiesh venues in NYC), you’d become a believer, and think that there was never, ever a need for a second guitarist. If you didn’t know better, they’ll even trick you into thinking that having a bass player was unnecessary.

The immediate response is to compare them to the White Stripes. But even as a compliment, and as much as I like the White Stripes, this comparison just means you’ve been depending too much on pop culture for answers.

It’s like averaging an A grade against an A and C, making a B grade. Yes, indeed both the White Stripes and Object have a guy playing some incredible guitar, except Eric’s vocal range and control could quiet any emo boy’s crooning, and gals playing drums, but Maria’s fierce, complicated beats, can easily be one of the best, understated, drumming (male or female) out there in both the indie and mainstream scene.

Object’s music isn’t the tame lo-fi 80s carbon-copy that currently saturates the NYC scene. While most are opting for this easy way out, Object is progressively taking on what was left off from the grunge scene of the 90s.

In Black Swan, they take on these familiar comfort zones and win. They aren’t afraid of risking it. And it shows, particularly in a new song Disappear (not yet recorded, only available live). It’s clear that Object is fully aware of the trappings that comes from mastering a sound, a voice.

Check them out at their myspace page OBJECT.

Words

I don’t want you in my head
because I have enough voices telling me something
something else, something assumed, something imagined
greatness, confidence, pride, timorous falsehoods
words achieved in the spirit of a con
a last trick that buts on the edges of a razor blade
that I hope I will never meet
so, I don’t want you in my head
nevermore, or because I expect You to come

teach me how to swim

there’s still space, room for yours and mine
we’re the biggest liars once we’re cornered
once we know that each of us are hostages
handicapped as all my love, Lover[…]

I don’t remember any survivors[…]
And your time and space doesn’t mean anything[…]
Even for you, crawling on my knees
God couldn’t be good[…]

Well, she wouldn’t show herself
the Devil that she is
wishing the most happiest
moments with a grinned shadow[…]

Because I can’t listen to that you say
what you’d consider as want[…] say if I had […]
guilt will rot me whole with dedication[…]
and it still wouldn’t be enough[…]

You and my family never believed I would live
that’s all I needed to know
even while they
you, say Yes[…] Yes, Yes Yes I am […]

when can I call[… ]when?