March 12, 2008: Atlantis, Georgia. (I think I’m in Magic Land.)

One morning in December, I woke up listening to Outkast’s Aquemeni. I never grew up listening to Outkast, but over the past two years, I’ve become one of their biggest fans- I mean undeniably, Aquemeni is one of the most unfuckwidable records out there. That morning, listening to that record struck a chord (yes, pun intended) in me. Aquemeni, to me, conjures some kind of supernatural-out-of-this-world-sorcery, and I decided that there just had to be magic in Atlanta. And then this gut feeling hit me: I have to go. So that same morning, I made a few phone calls, and within an hour, I was on my way.

Three months later, and after weeks of Outkast, Janelle Monae, Ray Charles, Cee-Lo, and a bit of T.I. on my playlist rotation, I’m finally here. Bumping ATL-iens on the shuttle ride from Alabama to Georgia, I was attempting to summon the spirits that helped to create this outer space, out of body, music. Meditating to “Liberation” pre-show in Pennsylvania last week, Adriel looks at me midway, and says, “Damn. You’re about to go there, Roobz.” Yes, my goodness. I was.

And now here I am, finally over that hump of adjusting to a new space, and unbelievably witnessing the magic I imagined, recognizing how blessed I am to live this life. I came here because of Outkast, and last night, I found myself in the same space as Big Boi, giving thanks to Scar for making my summer of 2006 and making my heart swell every time I listen to “Morris Brown”, and watching the Dungeon Family jam live at Sugarhill with absolute awe, gratitude, and humility to God and the Universe for bringing me here to witness it.

Praise God. I can’t even begin to describe what Sugarhill felt like last night. Maybe my spirit is open, my frequencies are channeling, or magic really does exist in Atlanta, but something about the way music has been affecting me out here has me on some kind of inexplicable elevation. When I closed my eyes listening to Joy sing, I felt every vibration from the instruments rippling in sync with my own like energies in beautiful collision, and damn, when Joy sang, I swear, I sensed the God in her. I knew right then, at that moment, exactly why I loved being an artist- if my words had even a fraction of the power to do what her voice just did for me, then dammit, it was worth it all.

In a society that fails to recognize art as a cornerstone for true living, I always tell my students that being an artist is just as important as being a doctor- art heals, yall, it heals. It gives hope. It bridges communion between spirit and body, like Joy did for me. Mary J. Blige’s Breakthrough saved my life two summers past. Goapele brought home to me when my heart ached for Oakland in New York City. “Liberation” is helping me to let go. As important as our physical health is, spiritual and emotional well-being are just as imperative, and this art takes us there, closer to God, closer to something higher, something bigger than us.

I watched people live onstage last night. Like, live. No holds barred, pure release, passion detonating out of vocal chords. I watched God at work. And I remember what Amir said once: “This art, it isn’t me. This is the God in me. Thank him, not me.” Music, this art, they’re portals for spirit to speak through us, and I pray, every single time I get on that stage, that you’ll see the God in me.

Man, I’m soooo loving Atlanta. And just so you know, that southern hospitality is some real ish.

And thanks to this one, I’m getting real sassy out here too. Watch me now.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 13th, 2008 at 9:30 am. It is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.