Before "The Pinepple Expess" made a success of "Paper Planes," Kala had turned the curious ear of many music fans. Superficially, it presents itself as a head-bobbing hip-hop album that could serve as the cacophonous soundtrack to a jammed block party. However, peeling back this immediate layer reveals socially conscious lyrics layered upon an intricate tapestry of sound. "Kala" features recombined snippets of Eastern folk music alongside old-school Afrikaa Bambataa-style proto-hip-hop. The resulting beats and loops are sophisticated and chaotic, rather like the work of Public Enemy at their creative height. The final product hardly sounds like the components from which it is made, and its elaborate arrangement masks its "loopy" structure. In my opinion, this is the way in which sampling can be musical.
This aesthetic pervades "Kala." As an example, listen to "Jimmy," in which bollywood-inflected strings co-exist with a disco feel to create...a 70's ABBA track? Sound impossible? I also find the loop on "20 Dollar" to be particularly clever. Although this isn't my favorite track, I appreciate the way that the sub-bass creates the gestalt impression that the listener's speakers are being overblown. The bass notes seem to suspend nearly all else until it subsides. By suspending all other rhythmic activity, the bass hits gain a power that cannot be attained by merely turning up the stereo.
I do not have much in my library to compare "Kala" to. Because its message is so consistent, I am often reminded of Dr. Dre's breakout "The Chronic." Of course, "Kala" sounds nothing like "The Chronic," but they both have a unifying "vibe." I am also tempted to refer to Panjabi MC, but this comparison is a little weak. Despite their similar cultural background as displaced Indo-British, M.I.A.'s comparatively cheeky attitude, undoubtedly stemming from her varied biography, makes her seem, well, a little "gangsta" in comparison to Panjabi MC. She speaks with a voice that sounds like it has had a wide array of life experiences, which lends it a certain gravitas.
I am not referring merely to the physical sounds that M.I.A. produces with her lungs and throat. I mean the significance and purpose of the sounds of "Kala." M.I.A.'s sounds speak volumes. Most obviously, the now-famous chorus to "Paper Planes" the sounds of gunshots and cash registers clearly tell a story, and on "XR2," video game sounds take over the expressive role of M.I.A.'s physical voice. These sounds reveal as much about her fractalized musical identity as the words she uses or the melodies she sings. Even when M.I.A. is not technically "singing" on "Kala," you can hear her voice. This type of expression is slowly being eroded away as the public repeatedly chooses the cultureless polish of "American Idol" contestants over artists that really have something to say about who they are and where they are coming from.
It has become cliché to say that the world is shrinking. Now that any kind of music from anywhere is available any time, it might be more accurate to say that the world has shrunk and the cultural flood gates are open. It has been theorized that the increasing flow of cultural material across various conduits would result in a "cultural grey-out," in which everything, no matter in what part of the world it originated, would start to sound the same. Thankfully, this has not happened. Instead, artists have "dug into" their specific identity and began to simultaneously appropriate and resist the musical materials that they were exposed to. "Kala" is a product of this condition.
THE LOWDOWN: If you like smart hip-hop with a lot of flavor and deep beats, "Kala" should be on your playlist from beginning to end. However, M.I.A.'s lyrics and identity are also profound. Ten years ago, she might have ended up in the "world music" bin. Now, she represents an entire generation of people whose experiences hold more weight than the patch of land that they call home.
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