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Can You Relate?

If you were searching for thumbtacks and started digging through the kitchen junk drawer only to find there were no thumbtacks, the only thing you would come away remembering is that there were no thumbtacks. The drawer’s contents would typically escape most of us. What one takes away from an experience is simply the part that matters. The reason for your being there, your talent or cause, even your name… none of this can be recalled unless they walk away feeling as though something of significance occurred. Relationships are built upon this principle and are what allow us to relate to one another. Commonalities are significant. In order to form a connection with your fans, they must be able to relate to you.

For a musician, the desire for expression is typically the impetus for engagement. But the creative isn’t always comfortable or proficient in social settings. Wearing their heart on their sleeve is the price they pay for nurturing a following. The best one can hope for is a bohemian milieu and a receptive crowd. My word to the introvert would be simply, “this could go well, if you let it”.

Taste may be subjective, but musicians often live, eat, breathe, and sleep their respective genres. They hold that land sacred and can be protective or objectionable at times. Their craft is a point of pride. But remaining amiable is necessary to accessibility and like-mindedness; two essential elements of the engagement a fan seeks. In our interview, New Orleans, Louisiana lyricist Alfred banks said, “I always like to move with the culture in mind. I’ve always been the guy that is the introduction to a bunch of people that don’t normally indulge in hip hop. It’s a gift and a curse. It’s a gift because I am their intro to hip hop. And I am a pretty good variation of hip hop. I want people to hear the best that they can hear. And I am the best that they can hear. It’s a curse because people don’t know how to indulge in hip hop. Because they don’t normally encounter hip hop. So, I am in a space where people say shit like ‘I don’t really listen to rap. But if I do I listen to you.’ That is an insult. Listen to hip hop. What are you talking about?”

Being so ingrained in the culture, he took those words as a personal slight. This is a revealing look at one of the challenges musicians face. The beauty overshadowed here is this: To be the ambassador for something you love is like being the unsung hero. Because you’re sharing a piece of something you love with a person you don’t even know. Alfred, at this point in his life, is a seasoned veteran whom undoubtedly handles these situations with grace. But it pains me to know how interactions that should be received as uplifting compliments can sometimes become a discouragement.

I interviewed Chris Leblanc, a guitarist and vocalist out of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He described the words of a friend goading him to release new music. “Why haven’t you put out another record in a while?”, the friend inquired suggestively. Chris’ immediate feelings on the matter were less than agreeable. “Go listen to my last records”, he replied. Chris later explained his perspective to me, “I’ve got to put this out because my fans are waiting on it? No! Nobody’s waiting on nothing. There’s billions of songs out there.” In his mind, he’d set the bar high up to this point and delivered. To align his releases with, what was in his eyes, a nonexistent public demand would be a compromise of integrity. He also reminded everyone in our interview, “There’s no money to be made in releasing records right now. But it still costs money to make records”.

In this instance, a friend implied with sincerity that fans were anxious to hear something new from him. But that friend couldn’t possibly know the circumstances that Chris and many other musicians face. What was once a more musician-friendly landscape governed by physical relationships and tangible products has now morphed into a digital terrain where the only thing we see, touch, or interact with is electronic devices. And to cap off this chilling stratosphere, statistics on new music releases are staggering. According to recent data, approximately 100,000 new songs are released on streaming services every day, with some reports stating the number is closer to 120,000. The majority of these come from independent artists like Chris. All musicians must reconcile with this harsh reality. But again, in that moment, the musician is supposed to suppress a dismal truth in order to remain in the good graces of a fan and friend. If any musician can find light in the “compliment”, well, that’s lagniappe.

To the musician, I might suggest disseminating pieces of yourself, enabling fans to parse out which parts of you they connect with. It serves the musician well by both retaining current fans and gaining new ones. Efficient avenues like magazines or websites are tethered to podcasts, Youtube channels and blogs. Tales From the Riff, Mixed-Alt Mag, Musicians Mentor, Local Riffs, and Paranoize Magazine are a few local examples of entities whom I have found to be approachable and genuinely interested in our local scene. There are also data aggregators like Feedspot.com that, for free or a fee, can supply you with a list of these independent media outlets cross-referenced with their respective social following and contact information. With these options, you (the musician) can curate a more personal side for the deserving. And it’s good practice in speaking with others about your day or about your life.

There’s something special about being able to connect with a musician. Before his set, I met vocalist Mike IX Williams (Eyehategod) out in the crowd at Chelsea’s in Baton Rouge. He was hanging out in the back watching some of the opening bands perform. I later went on to interview him and found him to be both passionate and genuine. He was interested to learn about Neworleansmusicians.com and thanked me for my efforts. Similarly, I interviewed metal guitarist Johnnie Lagrange who related an instance where he was approached out in the parking lot of a bar by vocalist Kyle Thomas (Exhorder). The two shared stories and spoke like old friends. These are people who have toured the world several times over, playing for thousands at a time. The gravity of such an encounter makes those five or seven minutes live on in the minds of others for an eternity. To be gracious in the moment cements musicians as “one of them”.  

Speaking personally, in my lifetime I have witnessed the collapse of all major institutions whom I was raised to trust. Our politicians, our religious figures, our leaders in healthcare, and the branches of our government have all failed us. Uncertainty has festered into an all-out anxietous infection and for all of us, I’m sure, our paths have been bittersweet. But music has never, ever failed me. Fans are people searching for truth. I believe extreme music takes things a step further in that, like the music, fans exist on the fringe. They are those that will not accept comfortability with this current Instagram filtered, untrustworthy existence. This is what makes authenticity so important to the empath. Connections shore this foundation. Being able to relate to someone, and so believing in someone, is of the highest importance.

In every profession there is an initial period known as paying your dues. It is weathered with the promise of coming out on the other side to an elevated sense of existence; one where you are seen, heard, appreciated, and compensated for your talent. Countless musicians spend their entire career in a purgatory of paying, and paying, and paying, never to see the precipice of recognition or comfortability. Over time, this can wear on whatever kinship they strive to feel with music listeners. Throughout, there is no revelation. Only the music itself is divine. And digital indicators merely serve to muddy the waters surrounding the mainland. Meanwhile, a single release-focused world is forcing the hand of true storytellers to part out pieces of their soul. If I could impart a bit of perspective to both the fan and the musician it would be this. A meeting of the minds is just as rare and precious as a random compliment. It’s hard for a fan to know the right words to say. And it’s hard for a musician to recognize a compliment for what it is. But any attempt at reaching out is a show of mutual support for the expressions of one another. Above all else, our ability and freedom to do this should be held in the highest regard.

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansusicians.com

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    Alfred Banks

    The folds of oak leave no room for compromise. The tree, along with every fiber of its being, is a physical manifestation of intention. It grows with strength reaching down to its core and provides for those around it. For the amount of time it took to become all that it is, you’d never know the challenges it faced. Nor would you fathom its path was ever in doubt. From the time he was a small child, Alfred Banks was intent on being an orator. His words cleared paths fraught with challenges of their own. The youngest of three, he derived inspiration from both the passions and pitfalls of his older siblings. Scarface’s album, The Diary, brings him back to times spent riding around in his brother James’ big blue Lincoln. This is where his introduction to freestyling occurred. And efforts into perfecting his penmanship harken memories of his oldest brother, Orlandis. The one-on-one moments spent with people he looked up to are ones he will forever cherish. From both, he experienced introductions to rappers like Tupac Shakur and Busta Rhymes. Inside the house, their mother played the gospel music of artists like John P Kee and Hezekiah Walker. These influences were the seeds from which Alfred’s career would grow.

    With both brothers striking out on their own, a young Alfred would become an only child for ten years. Under the watchful eye of his mother, he was not permitted to run the streets at will. He spent the bulk of his time inside, in his own mind, playing out the possibilities a life in entertainment might hold. Memorizing James Brown moves or dressing up like Will Smith and Martin Laurence in Bad Boys would be the activities that filled his days. As time went on, he could see himself alongside Redman in the I’ll Be That video. He envisioned an existence keeping lyrical pace with Busta Rhymes in the Gimme Some More video. And it was easy to image his place in Jay-Z’s Hard Knock Life video. Watching Mtv and BET, emulating, writing; he was the star of the show in his mind.

    At some point his oldest brother Orlandis briefly returned from the Marines. Alfred recalls one of few family reunions he experienced as a child on the lakefront of Lake Pontchartrain. “This had to be like, 2000. He had a Mazda 626, a green one. I remember that. And he had this big ass binder of CDs, back when that was the thing to have. And I remember him playing instrumentals in the car, those single CDs that they used to have, the record, the censored version, and the instrumental. So, he had a bunch of those and he would just put the CD in and just play instrumentals. We’re on the lake and I remember I’m nine years old. James is freestyling, Orlandis is rapping, and I’m freestyling. And everybody is just so impressed with me because I’m rapping at nine years old.” Alfred also associated this craft with a certain degree of respect. He’d recognized this on an outing with Orlandis to a recording studio once. He observed the resulting camaraderie and rappers’ abilities to move crowds as a politician or pastor might possess. Though the next few years would see him experimenting with basketball and wrestling, lyricism would never leave his mind. He was good at it. He didn’t care much for all the rules of basketball. And he tried his hand in two backyard wrestling matches, knocking himself out. He longed to impress his brothers and rapping held the key.

    At fourteen, his focus was final. He heard Food & Liquor by Lupe Fiasco and he knew he was going to be a rapper. With no way to make beats of his own, consulting his brother Orlandis gave him the idea to draw from the CDs in his house. A metamorphosis began to occur here in that, where once he was writing rhymes to impress his family, now he was writing rhymes to battle the rappers on these CDs. The question of IF had vanished and an imaginative boy was becoming more sure and more serious, measuring himself up to the likes of Marshal Mathers.

    Like many with a small stature, Alfred was teased a lot in school. Moving several times meant new schools and seemingly more foes than friends. These developing verbal skills would enable him to shoot back at schoolyard taunts. At some point Alfred remembers feeling, “different”. He recalls trying to explain this to his mother. He was unaware of the existence of conditions like bipolar or depression at that time. He was unsure why he sometimes felt like he wanted to die. His mother would do her part to get him help. But with him, as in the past, his pen would surely escort him through these times. Through this, another facet of his lyrical style would develop, emotional vulnerability. This is one I believe to be the most valuable, one that elevated his repertoire and made him salient. Because the industry, let alone his atmosphere, was wholly intolerant of such a characteristic in MCs. The court of public popularity spared little reprieve for conscious rap, a style of lyricism denoted by introspective thought. The emotional and intellectual content sought to reveal another dimension of an MC’s ethos outside of what had become a redundant discussion of material wealth, violence, and machismo. MCs like Common, Black Thought, and Talib Kweli enjoyed some commercial success. Conscious collectives like the Lyricist Lounge were inching up the bottom of Billboard. But these instances were anomalies back then.

    For Alfred to choose a path less travelled was a brave step in my opinion, and an unlikely one. We develop socially in the presence of others. Judgement is abundant, weighing heavily on youth. The two musical factions seldom comingled. One lyrical style had become the media darling. Still, he chose the other. And I suspect it was because it mattered that much to him. His deep respect for the art implored him to fill his notebooks with matters that hit close to home. Delving into his catalog, fans will find bits of his personal trials scattered throughout. One example was preceded by an eight-to-ten-year span where he did not hear from his oldest brother Orlandis. He later found out it was due to schizophrenia, which ultimately resulted in Orlandis’ death. Alfred’s album, Beautiful, released in 2017, was a concept album conceived on the car ride leaving that funeral where he develops schizophrenia and experiences the illness firsthand. Fights at school, alcoholism and altercations at home, and relationships plagued by turmoil all were revisited with his pen. He wasn’t sure how to put the experiences into words. So, he wrote about the feelings emerging from those experiences.

    Personal revelations like these on record nurture humanity and champion the importance of discussing the traumatic experience over a braggart’s tale. In this, Alfred has created value through connections to his fans. Over time, he’s seen them drive from states away to attend his concerts, bringing gifts and stories of how his works have affected them. In our talks, he expressed his unwavering appreciation for these moments. He was also careful to point out the distinction between real life interactions like these and vanity metrics on streaming and social media. But he can’t help but acknowledge the hindrance delivered to him by a less-prevalent sect of rap music in a town with no clear organization or stronghold on the industry. Alfred has been in active pursuit of his rap career for fifteen years. During that time, he’s toured from the west coast to Europe, he’s charted on iTunes and Billboard. His songs have been featured in movies and television shows. He was even nominated for a Grammy. He’s ghostwritten for some of the most legendary artists in New Orleans. He’s shared stages and received praises from big names in the industry. But still the efforts extended have often times fallen short of the financial reward.

    He’s lived through the highs and lows that come with being an entertainer. As Alfred explained, “I had to grind tooth and nail to make the name that I have. Lots of shows in New Orleans being disappointed where it’s like, fifteen people show up. You’ve been promoting for a month and a half, two months, and then like thirty people come out. But then the next day you perform at Voodoo Fest, opening for Kendrick Lamar.” He explained further, “You’ll be big one moment and then be reminded how big you aren’t literally the next day. Like, performing at Bayou Boogaloo and then the next day clocking in at my day job; all these different struggles that I’ve had to go through. Or, having to run in a room and having to out-rap everybody in a room. In every room I’m in, I’m having to prove myself. Every space I’m in I have to show everyone ‘cause I’m always the least known person in every room I’m in.”

    The fickle nature of success can be just as fickle as the spectators that gather to see what he brings. Recently, he’s experienced a refreshing response from his alliance with twice Grammy nominated musician Albert Allenback, currently of Tank and the Bangas, in a project known as SaxKixAve. To the equation, Albert presents as a multi-instrumentalist both inspiring and challenging Alfred. The two have gone viral several times over and have made appearances at The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, the French Quarter Festival, and in a Popeyes commercial. The lyrical style of Alfred’s solo career was more embodied by heavy, personal content. For putting all those all those hardships to paper, he didn’t catch the gleam of commercial success for the first eight years, about the time he was named the face of Volkswagen in their Polo/Beats by Dre Commercial Campaign. And it was just two years ago was when he felt like he had finally created a name for himself. In contrast, SaxKixAve comes along and within three years is performing in Aspen, Colorado at the X-Games. And lighthearted songs, like a recent one about hashbrowns is rapidly enjoying great success. Does that bother him? Alfred offers this resolve, “Here’s the deal. With SaxKixAve, after we went viral man, we’ve been doing shows across the U.S. People are coming out, dude. Like, people are buying tickets to see us. They’ve never seen us before. They’ve only seen us on the internet. And we don’t even have a hit record or nothing. We have songs, two songs specifically, that have kinda done well. But we don’t have a hit. And, so like, these people are taking a chance. And what we’re finding is, they like the deeper stuff more than Hashbrowns.”

    In retrospect, the lyrical levity and dry-humored oddity of their videos on social media has simply been what’s sparked initial interest. While the musicality and verbal depth is what cemented their appeal in the minds of the public. At no time, though, has Alfred bowed to the communal fixation on nonsensical antics. For him, this is a point of pride. And rightfully so. We’ve all rolled our eyes at the extent to which people are willing to go to get those likes and shares. Aside from being ridiculous, content like this is not born out of the genuine creative value of an artist. It is the result of efforts spent pandering to the faceless consensus. Alfred Banks exists devoid of vanity or falsehood. And, by all means should he be held as a wellspring of creative dignity. His spirit is the very embodiment of the independent New Orleans musician.  

    Author: David Trahan

    Neworleansmusicians.com

    Alfred Banks: https://www.underdogcentral.com/

    SaxKixAve: https://www.saxkixave.com/

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    SaxKixAve

    Recently our friends at Mixed Alternative Magazine had the chance to rap with New Orleans-based hip-hop duo SaxKixAve, who are rising in popularity right now in the best of ways. Most musicians are lucky to have one successful project in a world where there are hundreds of thousands of songs being released every single day and the market is oversaturated. The chances of breaking through the noise are harder than ever, and those who actually do break through and see some success with one group is a rarity, let alone those who can take on and do well with multiple musical projects. Enter these fellas.

    SaxKixAve is one of those groups who are doing it all. Comprised of award-winning rapper Alfred Banks and Albert Allenback, saxophonist and flutist of the twice Grammy-nominated group Tank and the Bangas, these two artists stay plenty busy with their main gigs, but thanks to the suggestion of Tavia Osbey, manager of Alfred and of Tank and the Bangas, that the two work together at the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, they started a side project that is truly something special. Their first record, “I Don’t Wear Suits,” was released in April 2020 and is a celebration of this collaboration, and the duo has been performing those songs in front of live audiences whenever they can find the time to do so.

    Earlier this year as SaxKixAve was finishing up their follow-up record, Mixed Alternative Magazine had them both over to chat about that record, about how they make this project work with their busy schedule, and about some of the band’s highlights so far. This is one bitchin’ Q&A with some super-cool artists that you’re gonna want to check out. Then, once you’ve read and pondered and laughed with them, check out their music, their videos, and support them on social media. SaxKixAve is rapidly on the rise and we’re all gonna want to keep an eye on them. Their music is as fresh, funky, upbeat, intelligent, honest, and unique as the guys who make it.

    MaM:  I’ve heard a couple different versions of what “kix’ed” this all off.  How did this insane, wonderful experiment begin?

    Albert: Well, Tavia—the manager of Tank and the Bangas and the engine, the logistic and business/life-path mind behind it all—hit me up and said [Alfred] was looking for beats. She said, ‘I know you make beats. Let’s get you in the studio together and see what happens.’

    Alfred: It was great … I like Alby. He’s good money. We crack wild jokes. He sent me an email of beats, I picked one, I wrote to it, knock this one out. It was right when COVID hit. So yeah, I got in the studio with this dude, [and] we laughed for about three or four hours before we even started really recording. I thought, ‘This is a good guy.’ We recorded ‘Tawny’ and I guess he liked what I did. I loved it, and we just kinda kept goin’, kept goin’, kept goin’. Then it was like, ‘Hey man, you wanna make this a thing?’

    Albert: It was like a ‘Step Brothers’ moment.

    Alfred: Yeah! He was like, ‘Yeah!’ I was like, ‘Aight.’ [sic]

    Albert: Are we in a band? 

    Alfred: Are we a band?!

    Albert: Yeah, I think so!

    Alfred: (to Albert) Do you remember how we came up with the name? I know we joke about it.

    CLICK HERE to read the full interview

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