Jeeni Blog

Helping the next generation of talent to build a global fanbase

Patti Smith - Piccadilly Circus Takeover

/ By Andie Jeenius
Patti Smith - Piccadilly Circus Takeover

To celebrate 50 years since Patti Smith's first poetry performance at St Mark’s Church, New York in 1971, January 2021 sees Smith taking over all the light screens at London’s Piccadilly Circus. Being brought to the venue by Circa, curated by the digital artist Josef O’Connor and designed specifically to adhere to social distancing and lockdown restrictions, the installation and Piccadilly Circus takeover, will combine art, music, poetry and prose, and include two recorded performances – one scheduled for midnight on New Year’s Eve and another on the day of the US presidential inauguration on 20 January.

Patti Smith in Piccadilly Circus - Photograph Circa

Talking to Fiona Sturges from The Guardian, Smith explains, “Some of the work I did in my bedroom, some in a recording studio and some at my desk,” says Smith, 74 this week. “I had to teach myself how to use Photo Booth on my computer and film myself reading a poem. I’m sure there are 14-year-olds who can do this in five minutes but it took me quite a while. But I got there and I’m so proud of myself.”

Her favourite piece is a reworked version of Peaceable Kingdom. Written in the aftermath of 9/11, it is a song of solace and hope in the face of catastrophe and, in performing it, Smith will be commemorating 100 NHS workers who have died from Covid. “It’s just so sad when we lose people who work so hard to rebuild our world,” she reflects. She will also read a new poem dedicated to the environmental campaigner Greta Thunberg, who will be 18 in January and who, Smith says, “pretty much sacrificed her childhood for all of us”.

Four years under Trump has also taken its toll. “It’s been a terrible atmosphere to live in,” she says. “You try to do your work and not let [politics] permeate your consciousness daily but it does. It’s very insidious.” She notes that she and the outgoing president are about the same age. “I have encountered him in New York through the years and found him a horrible, narcissistic person and just a bad businessman. I’ve seen the debris of his deals. I think the damage he has done is going to be felt for a long time. It’s not going to be so easily healed because globally he has empowered people of a like mind.”

Nonetheless she will take “huge psychological relief in the new administration. I’m a natural optimist so I’m not without hope or inspiration. What matters is trying to clean up some of his mess and get some order. I’m doing that in my house. I’m a messy person, and I know that before I can do something creative or exciting I’ve first got to clear everything away.”

Words - Fiona Sturges at The Guardian

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Bradley Jago - A Brilliant Artist Exploring Queer Identity

26
Aug

Bradley Jago - A Brilliant Artist Exploring Queer Identity

  When you first listen to Bradley Jago, right away, you are overpowered by the sheer force of his voice. It takes centre in what feels to be an intimate stage, one that exists outside of space and time, where you and only you become privy to not only the beauty of Jago’s soulful voice, but also the profoundness of his lyrics.  Rain is a song that is full of feeling, full of something rare in music - accountability. Jago tells me that the song is about change, letting the rain wash over you and forgetting the mistakes that you’ve made. He asks if we can hear the rain pour, and we can. Behind the beat, there is the unmistakable pitter patter of gentle rain sounds. But this question conceals another. When talking to Jago about the intention of the song, he told me: “I was… looking back at everyone I dated and I was like “Oh damn, there’s some people that I’ve actually fucked over a little bit.” …  And Rain is an apology to those people, to say I’ve changed now, and even though I have caused you pain, I hope we can move forward after. [It] is a metaphor for the pain I have caused them.”  The song itself has smooth jazzy influences. Jago’s clear voice overlaps itself in a layered harmony with a gentle underscored bass, Jago seemingly having a quiet moment of reflection to himself, as he sings to “let it rain”. The song’s intimacies are intentional. According to Jago “It’s kind of like a quiet moment to yourself. You’re at the gig with me in this intimate venue.”  Then, the drums kick in. There is a desperation to the song emphasised by the changed tempo - the emotion becomes fevered as he sings “let it rain” - the words repeating, creating a heightened emotional effect - it feels as if he is begging, bargaining, hoping. There is no longer just a sweetness and a softness and a sadness. There is a frenzy, a fury to be understood. And that’s what love, remorse, and pain is like.  There’s also important depth to be acknowledged within Jago’s music. Jago himself is a queer artist, who writes from the queer perspective. Why is this important to be acknowledged? Because in a song that is this intimate and honest, you need to understand why it is also brave.  Queer identity comes with an enormous amount of negatives - it’s a terrifying thing to out oneself, and make yourself inherently vulnerable to the disdain of others, and also yourself. Jago is changing the game by bringing this honesty to his music, in a world where queer people still find themselves being judged, discriminated against, the context of one love song can change from being a sweet romantic piece to a dramatic profession of bravery. Jago is interested in analysing both sides of the spectrum of queer experience. “I think I’d want to write about the negatives [of queer identity]. Being queer is celebrated a lot (as it bloody well should be). But also there are negatives that people aren’t talking about.”  It’s important to note that queer art, music and writing should not be made distinct by its queerness. Of course it adds depth and context to the art itself, but it is important to acknowledge the art as full of feeling, and therefore, universality. As Jago himself points out: “If I can relate to a straight song, a straight person can relate to my queer song.”  So what’s in store for Jago for the future? He is doing festivals Victorious, and The People’s Lounge -  “Because the music is so honest, I don’t want to do too much to the music. I want it to be really raw and still sound great - but very authentic and sound like it’s coming from my soul.” He also tells me: “I’m writing a track at the moment called ‘New Gay Sadness’ (there’s a little snippet available on Jago’s instagram) - it’s about the gay yuppies in London who are living their life but cannot find love. There’s a lot of pressure… ‘okay, we’re getting to a place of equality, still a long way to go… it’s like ‘oh you should be happy now’ but you have all these other life pressures of why aren’t you in a relationship. Why haven’t you achieved this yet?’” You can catch Bradley at the Victorious festival on the People's Lounge stage at 5:10pm on the 27th of August. Listen to his amazing track RAIN here Here    

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Artist Focus: Khole Baldeo

06
Jan

Artist Focus: Khole Baldeo

We are very excited to introduce Khole Baldeo, one of the next great artists to come out of the Caribbean, and more specifically, the Island of Grenada. She is an extremely talented singer, performer and songwriter who has created a real name for herself on her island, and she’s now set her eyes on international success. Having seen her perform in person I can say she has an incredible voice and can attract the attention of an audience with ease. Her electric, unforgiving nature during performance is a brilliant sight and you can only admire the clear love and dedication she has for her craft.  Her following has been eagerly awaiting her new journey in music, as she like many artists prepared to elevate her career to the next level. Having opened shows for notable artists such Buju Banton and Sizzla Kalonji, she took time to find her own new unique sound. Having previously been more of a Soul singer, she has found her calling in ‘Island Pop’. The genre is a clash of Dancehall and Pop, often very bouncy and easy to listen to, describing love, life, sex and relationships.  Her debut single ‘Island Girl’, produced by the excellent ‘Exit Daze’ currently residing in Grenada, is a joyful, exciting start to her new voyage. There is an incredible energy about the track, Khole has clearly entertained her past soulful style with her light, loving lyrics while also exploring the fiercer, sensual side of her character in the chorus. The happy-sad nature of the songs story adds a lot of emotion, as she speaks of two people dancing around one another, but feeling reluctant to ‘make a move’ as they are afraid of a bad reaction.   The mix consists of upbeat guitar chords, and a modern pop style beat, with some layering of piano keys, which really encapsulates an Island vibe. Khole sets the tone for the song “Would you run away if I told you I love you, would it make you stay, let’s take a chance”. The light start to the song progresses to a knocking chorus. She tells her audience of this relationship with great detail, creating spicy imagery as she leaves the specifics up to interpretation.  An electric song needs an electric music video and that is certainly the case here. The smooth moves of Khole and her dancers make you feel as if you are this elusive character who she is in love with. There is a lovely mix in the choreography between the joyful, coordinated but careless dancing, and the more seductive side of Khole towards her subject as you get a glimpse of what may be in store.  ‘Island Girl’ is an exciting, jubilant and professional release. We love the vibe that Khole Baldeo has created here, a fantastic start to her new identity. We shall continue to keep you updated on her new releases as there is much more to come!  How can Jeeni support artists like Khole Baldeo? JEENI is a multi-channel platform for original entertainment on demand. We’re a direct service between creatives and the global audience. • We give creatives, independent artists and performers a showcase for their talent and services. And they keep 100% of everything they make.• We empower our audience and reward them every step of the way.• We promise to treat our members ethically, fairly, honestly and with respect.• Access to artist liaison and a supportive marketing team. Check out Khole Baldeo’s Jeeni showcase here: https://jeeni.com/showcase/kholebaldeo/ 

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Mel's bedtime story

10
Jun

Mel's bedtime story

Once upon a time, I created a platform called jeeni.com which is where independent artists perform their music in front of new fans, and get rewarded for their efforts. On a Saturday night we ran a live global music festival featuring 18 acts from both sides of the Atlantic. The oldest performer was over 70, the youngest was under 10. They were brilliant, each in their own way. We broadcast over social media and websites. There were no adverts, there were no fakes, there was no hype. It didn't cost us a penny to run. Everyone had a ball. We are part of a revolutionary process that is killing a corrupt and rotting music industry which has held both audience and performer to ransom since the 1890s. So if you will indulge me, I'd like to tell you how, and why ... I'm an old hoarder, I hoard old music recordings, and when I say old I mean really old. Upstairs, in what was once a studio but has turned into an Irish Setter leisure lounge, there are several hundred wax cylinders from the 1890s. Each cylinder is a unique recording from an age before duplication was possible. If Miss Florrie Forde wanted to sell a hundred copies of Hold Your Hand Out You Naughty Boy to her adoring public, then she had to keep lubricated and trill the bloody thing into a brass horn a hundred times and record it onto wax in real time. But to me the beauty of these cylinders is not that each one is a unique recording, but that each one is mercifully short, rotating at 120 revolutions a minute and lasting a meagre two minutes, because that's all a wax cylinder can hold. And so the two minute pop single was born. At the start of the twentieth century discs replaced cylinders, but not a lot changed. I have another room full of shellac discs that spin at 78 revolutions a minute. When it came to pop singles from artists bringing joy to the world throughout the first half of the twentieth century, they had just under three minutes to do it in. And if they were any good, just under three minutes was plenty. I feel personally to blame for what happened next, because in the hour of my birth in 1948, the microgroove vinyl disc hit the market, spinning at what my Irish chums call dirty tree and a turd revolutions per minute. I have an entire wall of vinyl albums, with their glorious covers and sleeve notes. And yes, they are arranged in alphabetical order by artist and date-order of release. Their storage capacity is approximately twenty-five minutes a side, which is usually twenty-two minutes too long. And on the opposite wall is where all my CDs sulk, each one capable of storing seventy-four minutes of audio, and not one of them played since the turn of this century. Why? Because a hacker called SoloH went and ripped the source code of something called the Fraunhofer MP3 encoder and spread it all over the internet for free. Thanks to SoloH, I can not only digitise my entire collection of recorded music without any restrictions on playing time, I can access the entire library of everything that has ever been recorded, for ever. My phone weighs exactly the same as my 78rpm copy of Little Richard's single Tutti Frutti, which runs for two minutes 28 seconds of total perfection. My phone holds 21,417 tracks in MP3 format, some of them complete symphonies, which are pretty good, some of them prog-rock drum solos, as used by Viet Cong torturers to break the spirit of the enemy. My desktop hard drive and cloud-accounts contain too many tracks to keep track of. I declare that my motivation for amassing this ludicrous collection of music was that one day it would bring me comfort in my old age, when my body and brain become enfeebled and I feel the need to keep hold of past pleasures while dying. As it turns out, I started playing my collection early, during lockdown, and wished I was dead by the end of day three. The singles were great, but the albums were mostly insufferable. Which is when I realised that the music album is stone dead, and the nightmare of a lifetime of audio padding is finally over. Then the real truth hit me. The recorded music industry is dead too. Thanks to COVID19 there has been an explosion of new creativity. Everyone is now a record producer, anyone can run a broadcast music channel, and that's exactly what everyone and anyone seems to be doing, including me. The spongers and leeches and shysters have been exposed as completely unnecessary, as have most of the agents, publicists and managers. They are no longer able to milk performers in our new world of social distancing, because they have lost their power. It's the remote audience that now has the power, and this audience wants instant gratification, not a load of overhyped, overwrought, overlong, flimflam. Jeeni.com is my final project in a very long career. I'm giving my artists three minutes per track to nail it, because that's what my old hoard tells me is right. And I hope you agree that in order to shine, three minutes is all that anyone should ever need.

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