Slave To The Ism

The skies are crying here in Gotham on this grizzlygrey 4th of July weekend. Somewhere Elmore james is smiling. Not because we’re looking at tears roll down the streets like the song suggests (no doubt washing out Foreman grills by the dozens and double dozens across the county of Kings). No Elmore is shining us on because we here at BRC Media have finally by hook, crook and induced insomnia gotten slavetotheism.com up and running wild like a viral runaway child across the donnybrooks of your funk-de-fide dreams. Let us frst give praise to our fearless dominatrix and taskmaster Vernon Reid–he compelled us two seconds ago to launch on the day we honor the war fought to insure all white male property owners created equal before god were spared indemnity for injun-killin’, slave-ownin’ and disavowing all knowledge of their mulatto offspring.
Next let us praise our ever-stalwart Director Of Operations Darrell McNeil for the site’s name–by far the best of an incendiary bunch put before the colective royal We the BRC Media people. Gracias to Board of Directors and all kinds of legend Nona Hendryx for providing her midtown offices, the meeting ground that got this party started right. Kudos also to the BRC’s indefatiguable Madame President Laronda Davis who always keeps our wits about us. Nothing but love and big ups to our newest edition, The Man With The Web Designing Hands from the Longhorn State, our noble Hi-Sheriff of Knotty Plug Ins, Mr Brian Hull. Peck, peck, peckpeck peckpeck. That double-clicking sound you hear is Brian burning essential midnight oils while hunched over a keyboard somewhere in Texas, being intravenously fed ribs and beer while eschewing major July 4 festivities to get this Ism Thang up and running.
FInally I’ve got to give all kinds of props to all the brilliant writers who fed us content old new borrowed blue at the drop of an applejack– several of whom beamed in while dashing about transAtlantic airports, or on outback family vacations, their globe trotting Blackberries and Iphones in tow–Daphne Brooks, Kandia Crazy Horse, Michael Gonzales, Miles Marshall Lewis, Michael Angela Davis, Douglas Kearney, Sun Singleton, Sarah Lewis, Vijay iyer, Makkada B. Selah. Go team. To the extent that SlaveToThe Ism articulates more than than we love Grace Jones and The Chronic it’s because of all y’all . Bravo. Stay tuned. More krazy deadlines, sooncome.

So I got an ISM she got an ISM he got an ISM, all gods chillun got an ISM.
Some article of faith belief system, crazednotion, manic obsession, or philosphical addiction of the mind body or soul we hold to be the gospel truth as tightly as Moses held his commanding and immaculatlely inscribed clay tablets. Just about anything can be an ISM–all it takes is that special something cozying up to us in a beguiling moment of clarity and declaring “If you want to be free, you got to come through me.”

After 400 years of cohabitation, de-segre-mis-ceg-egration…Well, after all that, the sons and daughters of slaves and slaveowners alike–nearly identical twins in many American homes– seem to have become host to a whole hosts of Isms–I’m The Man-Ism, You The Man-Ism, She The Man Ism, Nigga Ism, Gangsta Ism, OfficerOverseer Ism, Clinton Ism Obama ism etc. Here at BRC media we suffer most from Black Music Ism–an Ism we share with most of planets other 9 billion inhabitants, who like us didnt need much coercing to get down. But there is a special relgiosity to our fervor for the Black Music Thang–with some of us seeming to have taken to heart (against all Sunday school teachings) our dearly departed Frank Zappa’s admonition that music is the only religion worth believing in because its the only one that delivers the goods. A loud flamboyant and abiding passion for Blacks Who Rock represents an especially acute form of our Ism. One most likely to bring out our capacity for slavish dedication to the cause. We’re often asked to define when not outiright defend the term Black Rock or Blacks Who Rock from various slings and arrows. Upon deep consideration we’ve come to realize we support a subculture defined by Feisty Negroes Who Refuse To Make Music They Know You’ll Like. If our Isms complememt your Isms we have a hunch you’ll find much to amuse, provoke and puzzle yourselves over here in the days weeks and months ahead.

- Greg Tate