For more than a decade Fantastic Negrito has been disproving rumours that the blues, along with vintage soul and reggae, is dying a death in the 21st century. Tim Cooper caught up with Mr Negrito – Xavier to his friends – to talk to the “self-produced, self-managed, self-financed, self-determined” musician about his new album, the importance of protest music and the relevance of blues music today.
Fusing traditional blues with elements of rock, funk and soul, and a strong element of political protest, the man born Xavier Amin Dphrepaulezz has singlehandedly updated the genre, weaving in a thread of his social concerns for a mixed audience weaned on musicians as diverse as Bob Marley and Prince, Chuck Berry and James Brown.
Now, after seven studio albums and three Grammys, he’s releasing his first live album, simply titled Alive!, capturing the special experience of Fantastic Negrito onstage, blending explosive musicianship – there are gut-wrenching riffs reminiscent of Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath – with raw emotional intensity.
The songs on Alive! – recorded all over the world, but mostly in Leeds – combine deeply personal storytelling and protest songs about the cycles of violence and division shaping our lives today: police violence, war, greed, gun violence, and systemic inequality. And a powerful version of the traditional classic In The Pines popularised by everyone from Lead Belly to Nirvana.
TC: I love the way you have brought blues music into the 21st century and continue to evolve what was in danger of becoming a heritage music. Is that a mission for you?
FN: First, thank you for such a beautiful compliment. I’m not sure what I’ve done, to be honest. I come from a particular tradition. Growing up Black in America, I inherited rock, funk, soul, rhythm and blues… and even some alligator shoes. That whole culture shaped me. I like to think of it as a garden that was planted long ago by people who came before me. I’m just trying to do my part—pulling a few weeds, planting a few new seeds, and leaving the soil a little richer than I found it.
Do you feel any sense of being a standard bearer for keeping blues music alive (while evolving it for a new audience)? Or even a responsibility to do so?
Well, I think that’s another compliment, so thank you. No, I’m definitely not in either camp. One thing I learned from artists I admire—people like David Bowie and Prince—is to make your own sound. Leave your own handprint. Be yourself. Be true to the art form, stay humble, and hopefully some good things happen. I didn’t really make it until I was 47 years old [when he won the inaugural Tiny Desk Cort Contest in 2015]. By then I figured, why play it safe? Take chances. I usually do my best work when I’m a little uncomfortable. That’s usually where discovery starts to reveal itself.
I often hear people say there is no protest music any more, yet your songs tackle a range of social issues; would you describe them as protest music?
I think there’s still plenty of protest music. You just have to listen… I always say, if you’re looking for me and you can’t find me, it probably means you ain’t really looking for me. As for my songs, I don’t sit down and think, ‘I’m going to write a protest song.’ I just write about what I see. I write about the people around me, the struggles, the joy, the contradictions. If that challenges somebody or makes them think differently, then maybe that’s what protest music has always been.
The big question: do you think music – protest music – can be a vehicle for social change? And was it ever thus?
I think music, art—all the creative mediums—are what you want them to be. They become whatever role you allow them to play in your life. I believe that anything inspiring, motivating, visceral—anything plucked from the emotional gutter of overcoming obstacles and survival—has tremendous value. Can music create social change? I think it can certainly move people. It can open hearts, start conversations, inspire, and remind us of our shared humanity. Whatever keeps us moving toward a more loving world, I’m all for that.
To what extent does your dramatic health history influence your music? [In 1996 he was signed to Interscope and released an album under the name Xavier, and after it flopped he was in a car crash in 1999 that left him in a coma for three weeks; his label dropped him and he did not return to music for another 15 years – this time as Fantastic Negrito].
I’ve been through a lot. It feels like I’ve lived many lives… I always say that everything and everyone is my teacher. Quite often, our greatest tragedies become our greatest teachers. I carry the scars, the injuries, and the disability with me every day, and they remind me to keep learning. They’ve served me well—not just in my music, but in every aspect of my life.
Your 2016 album Last Days Of Oakland, about the Bay Area city where you grew up, now looks and sounds like a premonition of how it has changed with the onset of gentrification.
Wow… Last Days of Oakland. How prophetic was that? Oakland has become a place where you can be born there and still not be able to afford to live there. Unfortunately, that story isn’t unique to Oakland anymore—it seems to be happening everywhere.
Is it true that when you lived there, and sold weed on the street, you learned music by sneaking into university classes at Berkeley? What did you learn from that?
Yes, it’s 100% true. I learned music by sneaking into the piano practice rooms at UC Berkeley… That opened up the puzzle of music for me… If you have enough desire to learn something, you’ll find a way. Now… sometimes you should take ‘no’ for an answer.
Some black artists I’ve met tellme they hate blues music because they feel it defines people of colour by pain and misery, the “black man’s burden.” How do you respond to that?
I don’t hate anything. That’s a waste of time and a waste of energy. To me, Black music is one of the greatest gifts to the world. It’s about turning the bullshit into good shit… What do we do with the challenges and obstacles we’re given? My view is that we turn them into fuel and let them work for us.
I’ve read that your musical influences as a child were very diverse – could you expand on those? And have you (or could you imagine) ever made music in another genre?
Yes, absolutely. I was influenced by everything… Louis Armstrong’s St. Louis Blues changed my heart at age five… then Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Black Sabbath… Parliament-Funkadelic, Rick James, Prince, rap, punk and alternative… The blues was around me all along; I just didn’t fully embrace it until I was in my forties.
Can you describe your feelings when you perform live? Is it like footballers who describe scoring a goal as “better than sex”?
I don’t know if performing live is better than sex… Performing live is about connection, gratitude, becoming a conduit. There’s nothing like it. I always say it’s like church without the religion.
At your concerts I have been struck by the sense of communion – band and audience as one community with a shared emotion. Is that how it is for you?
Playing live is a privilege… It’s about sharing, listening, participation, singing together… Sometimes I feel like a shaman, sometimes a healer, sometimes a used-car dealer, sometimes a touchy-feely love dealer. It’s life. It’s tragedy. It’s joy. It’s communion. Together.
I’m guessing that’s what you were trying to capture on your new live album. How did you choose the songs, and how did you choose the performances/locations?
I love performing live. Especially in this era of Auto-Tune, editing, and sometimes overproducing every note, there’s something incredibly courageous about putting a few microphones onstage and letting it happen. No second chances… AI can’t do it. Robots can’t do it… They remind us what it means to be alive.
Your racial background has been discussed a great deal: you were raised (so I’ve read) in a deeply Muslim family by a part-Somali father – both subseqenty demonised by Trump – and a mother descended (like Trump!) from a white Scottish family…
Well, first I have to stop you there. (Laughs). I did a DNA test and discovered I’m not even one percent Somali… My father fabricated so many things to survive… I discovered my seventh-generation grandparents were part of a forbidden interracial love story on a tobacco plantation. How fascinating is that?
Who comprises the (potential and actual) audience for your music today?
I don’t really think about who listens to my music… It’s a great privilege to be an artist on this planet. I just try to make honest music and let it find whoever it finds. Keep listening with an open heart, and I’ll keep making the best music I can.
Fantastic Negrito Alive! Is out now on Storefront Records.
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More of Tim Cooper’s writing at his Louder Than War author’s archive and at Muck Rack and daily music posts at EatsDrinksAndLeaves.com
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