FEATURE: Spotlight: Tkay Maidza — Music Musings & Such

FEATURE:

Spotlight

Tkay Maidza

___________

IT is remiss of me…

PHOTO CREDIT: Daniel Dorsa

that I have not yet included Tkay Maidza in my Spotlight feature. Having released her debut album, Tkay, in 2016, and a three-E.P. project, Last Year Was Weird (Vol. 1) in 2018, Last Year Was Weird (Vol. 2) in 2020 and Last Year Was Weird (Vol. 3) in 2021, it is a perfect time to discover this wonderful artist and follow her work. I am going to end with a review of her latest E.P. There are interviews from 2020 and 2021 that I want to mention and include first. Born in Zimbabwe and based in Australia, Maidza’s brand of Hip-Hop is among the most fantastic and promising. She is an artist who released a strong of incredible singles last year. Apologies if there is a bit of randomness regarding the information sourced! There are some great and deep interviews out there. I wanted to include bits from a few of them. I will start with DIY’s chat with her from 2020. Released to coincide with Last Year Was Weird (Vol. 2), it was clear that here is an artist whose influences and sounds is one that instantly catches the eyes and ears:

“Drawing on an impeccable set of influences including Outkast, Janelle Monáe, Janet Jackson and Kaytranada, one moment she can be found exploring soulful funk with Kari Faux (‘Don’t Call Me’), and the next she’s trading bars with JPEGMAFIA over twisted trap beats (‘Shook’). Tkay herself describes this latest installment as “a turbo version” of the first EP, which was more introspective in its outlook but drew from a similarly vast pool of musical inspirations, including gospel and reggae.

Yet though she’s purposely vague about the circumstances surrounding her debut album today, there’s definitely a sense that the whole ‘Last Year Was Weird’ project was born out of a frustration with her previous industry experiences. “Back then, I was more leaning towards dance-pop and whilst I like that, it’s not what I listen to daily or what I draw inspiration from,” she explains diplomatically. “So though what I’m doing now is still eclectic, I feel like the core of it is more true to who I am. It’s more soulful, and if it’s rap it’s really hard-hitting, and if I want to do a pop song, it still has elements that I have more say in.”

In an attempt to reclaim her creative autonomy, Tkay parted ways with her US label and several members of her team following the release of that first LP - an intensely trying period that ultimately inspired the title of this new series of releases, written with LA-based producer Dan Farber. “I just put a magnifying glass on everything,” she sighs, recalling the period. “And that was really stressful for me because then a lot of things started to unravel… It just felt like it was totally out of my control, and I was really upset and, basically, depressed.”

Though entirely inspired by personal circumstances, the title accurately reflects the political and social unease in the world too, and arguably becomes more prescient with each passing year. This coincidence isn’t lost on Tkay, who fully intends to channel wider global events and issues into its final instalment. “I’ve never really been an overly outspoken person politically, and I think that’s just from being really sheltered. But I think now, if you don’t know what’s happening in the world you’re being ignorant,” she nods. “And [with the next EP] there definitely will be moments of me addressing how 2020 has made me feel, because for me it’s brought up a lot of repressed trauma.”

PHOTO CREDIT: Dana Trippe

Like millions all over the world, the recent Black Lives Matter protests have prompted Tkay to publicly confront her own experiences of racism. In a hugely brave Instagram post shared in early June, she detailed a horrific experience at US immigration while en route to her first SXSW, resulting in an invasive strip search. She was just 19 at the time.

“I didn’t really tell people [then],” she recalls today of the aftermath. “I was just so focused on writing the next song, playing the next show, and building my profile that I almost brushed these events off. I was going along with things like it was normal, but racism is definitely not normal. It’s not OK.

“In Australia there are much fewer [people of colour], and I think a lot of us - especially the ones of us that have been here since the early 2000s - we’ve learned to water ourselves down and blend in, just so we don’t make other people feel uncomfortable. But my tolerance is so low now. I’m happy to call people out if I feel like what they say is ignorant or racist or an uneducated point of view.

“I can definitely relate to the American experience too, because I spend so much time there. Like, there have definitely been times when a policeman has come up to me and I didn’t feel safe. And when you think about the Breonna Taylor and George Floyd stories you think, ‘What if that was me?’ But I feel like people just need to open their eyes, because it’s not about whether you can relate to it or not: people are literally dying.”

This determination to use her platform for good adds even more urgency to Tkay’s quest to break out far beyond the Australian hip hop scene, where she currently sits apart from both a glut of young battle rappers and the old school sounds of established stars Hilltop Hoods. Unsurprisingly, conquering the US is the ultimate goal, but even armed with an EP of weapons-grade bangers, she’s under no illusion that it’s going to be an easy task.

“I think a lot of Americans only want to hear stories from other Americans, so being from Australia you have to convince them that what you have to say is worth listening to,” she says. “But I think it’s doable. And I think what I and a lot of other Australians can do is just offer a different perspective on hip hop. I’m not trying to be an American rapper, I’m just trying to carve my own lane. And that’s what’s so exciting”.

I will come to an interview where we learn more about Maidza’s upbringing and childhood. What I notice from listening to the E.P. trilogy is how she has grown and become more eclectic and stronger between each. i-D spoke to her about her second of the three E.P.s (her third E.P. overall); how her debut album was followed by a somewhat scary and turbulent time:

“What clicks in the second instalment of her Last Year Was Weird trilogy is Tkay’s dizzying versatility. It’s a mix that’s equal parts groovy and intense, with trap-infused tracks like “Awake” featuring JPEGMAFIA, balancing out smooth flows on the cheery “You Sad” or the taunting It Girl manifesto “Don’t Call Again” with Kari Faux. Throughout it all, Tkay swings breezily from blissed out bars to apocalyptic fearlessness, tying it all together with her percussive vocals. If that sounds like a lot, it’s because it is. “I’m a chaotic neutral, for sure,” she laughs. But under the ebb and flow of the EP is a soulful, vivid current that makes for easy listening all day, no matter the mood.

From the outside, it seems effortless, but Tkay’s dealt with her fair share of growing pains to get to a point where she’s happy with her music. Growing up gracefully under the pressure of producing content is a talent in itself, but it’s one that she’s honed since being catapulted into the spotlight at 17 with her first EDM banger, “Brontosaurus,” back in 2013.

Tkay’s not the type to be a one-hit-wonder, though. She managed not only to hold onto that first bit of momentum but to build on it. Almost immediately after pivoting from her studies to a full time music career, she found herself offering up flashy flows on Troye Sivan songs and performing alongside Charli XCX and Mark Ronson at festivals the world over.

PHOTO CREDIT: Morgan Sette

The natural culmination of all that raw talent and hard work was a record deal and dance pop album all her own, the eponymous TKAY in 2016. But after it dropped, she panicked — branding herself an electro-pop artist prompted a deep existential crisis. “I’m into lyrics and authenticity, and I felt like what I was doing was too easy,” she says. “I was having a bit of imposter’s syndrome because I didn’t have to think too much about what I’m saying. For a while I found that fun, but then after a while I was like, wait, I feel really empty. I’d go into sessions and I didn’t really know what to talk about because I could talk about anything and it didn’t mean anything. It just became really confusing.”

It wasn’t until after months of touring and several sessions with producer Dan Farber that Tkay had the ‘aha’ moment that would change her course. The phrase she used offhand to describe the TKAY era of her life to Farber — saying that last year was really weird — would jumpstart a creative metamorphosis. “It’s normal for people in their early twenties to be like, everything that I was, I kind of hate it and need to become someone else. That’s so normal,” she says, thinking back to that feeling of disconnect. To counter it, she reintroduced herself to artists who had inspired her as a kid, like Lauryn Hill and Janet Jackson, and started laying the groundwork for melodies that meant more to her. With her eyes on then-emerging artists like Teyana Taylor and SZA, Tkay undertook a total artistic transformation. “I wanted to see if I could do that, and I believed I could,” she says of the shift.

The result was a more exploratory and reggae-style sound on 2018’s Last Year Was Weird Vol. 1, a relaxed, smooth EP straining against the pressures of her first electro-pop successes. As she put it in the opening lines of “Growing Up”: “I’m getting a bunch of BS/ Cooked up a cake and they wanted a pie.” That’s how she’d been feeling even up until this latest EP — like the people around her still expected her to be the explosive girl rapper collabing on club hits, instead of an experimental force to be reckoned with in the indie R&B and hip-hop spheres.

But her willingness to be vulnerable in organic flows resisted easy categorisation in a world where women rappers were finding the most success in peddling bad-bitch characters. With Last Year Was Weird, Tkay’s intensely self-aware lyrics and DIY green screen music videos launched her to the forefront of a new realm of alt-rappers, alongside trendsetters like Kari Faux and Tierra Whack. “They’re minding their own business and just want to figure out where they stand,” she says. “You can hear that in the music — we’re confused, but we’re so confident in being lost, if that makes sense. We’re empowered by the idea of admitting that we don’t know everything.”

There’s something fearless about feeling most in your element when you’re overwhelmed by the process of growing up and making a name for yourself. But Tkay is one of those rare artists who finds freedom in total honesty, and now walks into studio sessions for Last Year Was Weird Vol. 3 feeling grounded by whatever she’s about to get off her chest. “If I say something that’s really honest and makes sense, I’m not afraid to say it,” she says. I think that was my biggest problem with my earlier music — if it just didn’t feel like it fully aligned with me, that’s what made me feel worse”.

I want to bring things more up to date. Last year saw the Last Year Was Weird (Vol. 3) E.P. released into the world. The Guardian spotlighted Tkay Maidza back in July. They observed an artist who, musically and personally, has grown in confidence as the years have gone by:

“Gaining comparisons to artists such as MIA and Azealia Banks, Maidza quickly became known for her rapid-fire flow and big EDM tracks. A string of buzzy releases, and a collaboration with pop innovator Troye Sivan, led to her 2016 debut album, TKAY, and what should have been her crowning glory. But something wasn’t right. “I thought: ‘Is this really who I want to be for the rest of my life?’” she says from her new home in LA. “I wasn’t happy with who I was surrounded by and a lot of things were starting to fall apart.”

Stifled by life on a major label and keen to reclaim her creative autonomy, she turned to producer Dan Farber (Lizzo, Dizzee Rascal). “We had so many conversations trying to figure out the best way forward. One day I was like: ‘Damn, last year was so weird’. And it gave me an idea: what if we turned the second album into three EPs? And by the end of it, hopefully everything will make more sense.” It was her way, she explains, to “almost start again, reposition myself”.

The resulting turbo-charged trilogy of Last Year Was Weird EPs finds Maidza relishing her musical freedom. “The way I see it, [my music is] left of anything. It’s alternative hip-hop. Alternative pop. Alternative R&B.” As if to prove her point, last year she found a new home with the revered indie label 4AD, home to the likes of the Breeders and Deerhunter.

With each EP, her confidence has grown. “The first one was: we’re coming out of the ground. The second one was: we’re vibing. And the third one is: we’re flying,” she smiles. “It’s more bratty, more bold, when it’s at its loudest. And then, when it’s more introspective, I’m more confident in what I’m saying.”

The two sides are reflected in part three’s singles; on the one hand you have the brash trap anthem Kim, with a video that sees Maidza take on the identities of Kims from pop culture, from Lil’ to Kardashian; on the other, the fluttering, blissful Cashmere.

Maidza now feels she’s “done the hard work of reintroducing myself” but, as she plots her second album proper, she wants to keep taking chances. “The moments when I have the least fear are when I do my best,” she says. That restless approach to creativity is one quality she can thank her eight-year tennis career for. “My coach would always tell me: ‘If you don’t try to return the ball you never know if you would’ve got it or not”.

I will work my way to a review soon. It is worth coming to NME’s long and great interview with Tkay Maidza back in May. Ensuring that more people in the U.K. were aware of the Australian-based star. Here is an artist who will definitely go on to rank alongside the best Hip-Hop artists of the past few decades:

“In under a decade, Tkay Maidza has emerged as an international phenomenon. Retaining a down-to-earth charm, she commands respect and affection in music industry circles, consistently recognising her peers and warmly interacting with fans on social media. She exudes positivity. “I don’t engage in drama that doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Maidza quips.

Born Takudzwa Maidza in Zimbabwe, Tkay migrated to Australia at five – with her father a metallurgist and mother an industrial chemist, her parents’ qualifications were attractive to the mining sector. They resided in Perth and regional hubs before settling in Adelaide. Throughout, Maidza was surrounded by music: in Zimbabwe, her dad played guitar in bands, and gigs served as family outings (legendary musician Andy Brown is a relative).

Maidza’s folks encouraged commitment and excellence. “The way my parents have always raised me is: if you do something, make sure it’s the best of what it is.” At school she was on an accelerated academic track, graduating at 16. Her initial passion was tennis and she nearly went pro: “I’m just really competitive,” she explains. “I always wanna be a better me.” But she also latched onto hip-hop, cutting remixes, covers (including one of Kanye West’s ‘Power’) and “random demos” using Dad’s recording gear and uploading them to YouTube.

As a teen, she participated in a young artist development program and, linking with beatmaker Bad Cop, introduced her clever wordplay on 2013’s M.I.A.-ish rap-rave ‘Brontosaurus’ – which she posted on triple j’s Unearthed portal, generating industry buzz. Then studying architecture at uni, Maidza withdrew to pursue music. Her parents were “supportive” – but with caveats. “They just said, ‘If you’re struggling and we have to help you or pay for anything, that’s when you know this isn’t the job for you’,” Maidza relays. “I’ve been fortunate to never really be in a situation that bad where they have to help out.”

Bursting out of a male-dominated scene, Maidza was often hailed the “queen” of Australian hip-hop. It may be more accurate to call her one of several women on a new vanguard equipped with new tools – including social media and international networks – to better vault over the sexist parochialism that in the ’90s curbed Australian female rappers like MC Trey, Maya Jupiter and Layla. For her part, Maidza has built herself a global profile, showcasing early at New York’s CMJ Music Marathon and in 2016 earning a BET Awards nomination for Viewers’ Choice: Best New International Act.

Maidza is also bringing that clarity of vision to her music videos for ‘Last Year Was Weird’. Within a year, she went from the confident choreography of ‘Shook’ to the grotesque glamour of ‘Syrup’, establishing herself as a visual auteur with a carefree and nostalgic aesthetic.

PHOTO CREDIT: Jonathan Weiner/NME

Locked down in Adelaide as the pandemic raged, Maidza had to be resourceful as she shot two “super-DIY” videos. “I felt like I was in my element, ’cause that’s how I started before triple j had discovered me.” She co-directed the Afrocentric clip for ‘Don’t Call Again’ remotely with Jordan Kirk, purchasing a green screen and filming in her old bedroom over FaceTime so they could combine live action and animation (featured artist Kari Faux was shooting Stateside). Maidza was galvanised by the Black Lives Matter movement and discussions about Black women in pop culture, channelling empowered Blaxploitation characters in the tradition of Pam Grier’s Foxy Brown.

“For me, that was a moment where I was like, ‘Oh my God, I’ve never really appreciated who I am’ – and maybe also I didn’t feel connected to my roots, because I was trying to blend in all the time,” Maidza reflects. “If I experienced any discomfort from other people, I would stonewall it or kind of just disassociate from it, but it doesn’t mean what I felt wasn’t real. [But] I was like, ‘I can step into my power and it’ll be super-cool to have another really cool Black girl who’s very outspoken and strong and you can tell that she’s very sure of herself.’ So I was really happy to get Kari on that song.”

Maidza also made her biggest video yet, for ‘Vol. 2’’s blithe bop ‘You Sad’. The avant-garde celebration of Black girl magic, showing the star basking in a “surreal” garden idyll amid obsolete phones, has racked up over 4million views on YouTube. For this one, Maidza liaised online with UK director Jocelyn Anquetil, and located a studio that could accommodate a larger screen. “I had to go to Bunnings,” she laughs. “I actually went by myself to get this two-metre artificial roll of grass.” Maidza and her bestie then ‘dug’ holes for the flowers. “It was a really fun process – because, in that situation, the amount of work I do is what I get out of it”.

Because Last Year Was Weird (Vol. 3) is her most-recent E.P. release, I want to highlight a review. There was a lot of positivity around it. An artist building in stature and reputation, it is her greatest work to date. Pitchfork were among those who had their say:

“Tkay Maidza’s Last Year Was Weird trilogy is an open sandbox, a way for the Australian artist to try out as many genres as she likes without overcommitting. Since the first volume arrived in 2018, she’s paved a fresh, reliable lane: With a dexterous flow and a close ear for wordplay and melody, she infuses her music with a breezy, effortless mix of pop, rap, R&B, and reggae. The new Vol. 3 caps off the EP series with another round of plush, laid-back songs that mingle with some of her toughest rapping yet. Her bright, boastful personality remains front and center.

Vol. 3’s songs are newly tactile: Maidza is soft like cashmere and rich like syrup, comparing a lover’s bond to sticky honey. The lyrical flourishes give way to deeper ideas as she digs into the sense that she’s been overlooked, whether by a former flame or the public at large. “Yes Lord, I been slept on,” she sings over a jittery beat and choral backing vocals on “High Beams.” Maidza, of course, is nonplussed: “They late, can’t cope.” On the leisurely “Cashmere,” she allows a more vulnerable side through: “I disconnected myself,” she sings in a lilting voice before letting loose a haymaker: “And when I wanted your wisdom/You just gave me a reason to put a hole in your chest.” The delicate balance between big talk and forthright emotion colors the EP, closing the distance between Maidza as a person and a performer.

Her regular collaborator Dan Farber serves as executive producer, wiring the new set with bass-heavy undertows. The cheerleader stomp and rumbling buzz of “Syrup” nod to Timbaland and Missy Elliott’s future-shocked collaborations, but Maidza makes it her own, cruising in the pocket as she reels off boasts: “I want it all, can’t apologize/I’ll take the cake and the kitchen knife,” she vows. The standout “Kim” pays homage to the 2000s cartoon show Kim Possible with one of Maidza’s most swaggering hooks: “Bitch I’m, bitch I’m Kim,” she roars over ping-ponging synths and shuddering bass, her voice filtered as though shouting through a speakerphone. Like last year’s stadium-sized “Shook,” it’s electrifying proof of Maidza’s talent for catchy songs that punch above their weight.

Listening back through the entire LYWW series confirms that Maidza has found her artistic footing, evolving past the nondescript dance-pop of her 2016 debut toward a wide-ranging approach that serves both her creativity and her confidence. “Kim” exposes her stealth mission to the top in a springy cadence: “I been going hard and I ain’t slept/And they ain’t even know it, I’m a threat.” Though she has yet to notch a bona fide hit, Vol. 3 gives credibility to the claim. By building steady momentum at her own pace, Maidza has delivered her most bracing music yet”.

A phenomenal artist whose recent singles like Cashmere are among the very best of last year. I cannot wait to see what she comes out with this year! I am writing this on 9th February so, between now and the time this goes live, she could have announced something or released a new song. If you have not heard about Tkay Maidza, then do make sure that you…