#letsmoveforward

Us humans, with our faculty for problem solving and analysis, have a natural tendency for guessing what comes next. If we hear a knock on our door, we will expect the sound to be caused by another human’s hand on the other side of that door. We will not expect, for instance, that the door has suddenly become sentient and now “speaks” by  making knocking and clicking sounds. This normal expectation gives us a useful shortcut for navigating simple questions like “who’s knocking on my door?” It helps us not freak out when surprised, as we surely would, if we lived in a world where a knock on our door could be from a human, the door itself or a complete other unknown variable.

That said, a knock at the door can be alarming enough when you’re not expecting anyone.

In large, the future’s unknown nature can frighten us, introducing surprises we can’t reconcile into the stability and order we wish to establish, to feel safe in the present.  

Our expectation that the present will continue undisturbed, into the near predictable future sits comfortably as a reassuring hope. And while useful for quelling anxiety, it’s not too realistic.

I write this because I’m scared of the future. Some fear death, others the vacuum of infinite space; but to me, nothing is more alarming than the sudden, merciless fact of a new now—One which knocks the present ground right out under my feet. It’s not a crippling fear or phobia, most days in fact, I’m too preoccupied with what’s happening right now to think about tomorrow. More specifically, I’m too preoccupied with what’s happening to me. So then, how could the future (when it arrives) not feel like a sudden invasion when I haven’t even fully taken in, all that’s happening around me today?

It’s become a recent realization how little I pay attention to the present world. How little I know about what got us here. The relationship between past and future, and how the two are forever linked in an endless succession of now has always excluded, in my mind, the concept of agency. That is to say, I didn’t truly know I could play a part in it too. But that’s exactly what happened before, others took certain actions that created the world I currently live in. And more over, in the current world I live in, new others are taking action to shape the future. Some share my vision, some don’t.

Some aim to course correct past pathways, others ignore the past and bravely leap into the future. Some have wonderful ideals and suggestions beyond their own experience, others selfish but dually practical contributions. Some walk grayer areas of in between, neither completely clear nor murky in intention or consequence. All these orbiting satellites of potentiality are intimidating when you feel your place is with the silent audience and not the performance stage.

Expecting you can’t participate.

But that comes from already feeling silenced—Changing that, is what I’m decidedly working towards. And it doesn’t come from perceiving the future as an ambushing enemy—Tho certain entities within that future, no doubt benefit from my absence—But rather, true agency comes from realizing I always had a voice, and the future has always expected to hear it.

Released in two parts—The first in February 212020 and the second, added onto the already existing digital tracklist (rather than a separate album) on May 15—Græ defies categorization. The defiance recalls Sumney’s 2017 debut, Aromanticism, where he contemplated the concept of “lovelessness” and whether romance was as some popularly normalize it, a necessity. It likewise reflects the artist himself, who is difficult to pin down, despite early efforts by interested record labels, to market Sumney as an R&B/Soul artist. 

He relocated from the L.A. music scene to Asheville N.C. in 2013 and has since fine-tuned his polymer of folk, alternative rock, soul, electronic and whatever other musical styling facilitates his expression. The result isn’t some Frankenstein mesh of genres—Sumney selectively incorporates his familiar entourage of acoustic guitar, strings, and drum programming to assemble most of his ideas, which are cohesive, lyrical, and focused. It’s not that the music is random (it’s not at all), it’s just that he’s the only example of his own sound so far. Charles Mingus, legendary jazz composer, known for his variety of compositions from bebop, to orchestral, swing and even Latin summed himself up as “Mingus Music.” Meaning his sound was his genre. Worrying too much about what it is, might make you approach it incompletely. 

On græ, the angelic ribbon-delicate but scalpel sharp voice of Sumney insists you don’t. 

The album embraces that variety, and enlists a supporting cast of likewise ælusive polygons: including vocals from authors Taiye Selasi (who has one of my favorite TEDTalks on identity/locality) and Michael Chabon, singer/songwriter, Jill Scott, actor Ezra Miller as well as musical contributions from Adult Jazz, FKJ, James Blake, and  Oneohtrix Point Never. But for all it’s collaborations, græ neither bends Sumney beyond his reach nor underutilizes it’s collaborators. Existing in some fuzzy, anomalous mathematic equilibrium where cake can be had and ate too!

But why is it important that this album be defiant against categorization? There’s obvious reasons regarding tolerance, equality and freedom of expression. It almost sounds counter-intuitive but the more you allow an idea, song, or person to be the collection of all they are, then the more you can, as Selasi states in one of her interludes, “meaningfully engage” with their multiplicity.

As self-image is increasingly curated, as everyone develops a brand even before there’s a product, there’s this filtered re-arrangement that simplifies the complex individual for consumption. Presents the self as an aggregate of its parts like a Rotten Tomatoes score. And I’m not knocking the power of economically communicating with clarity, one’s identity—But there should be a healthy counter-balance that holds space for those who may choose not to. Their understanding might require a full conversation rather than a tagline and that’s okay.

Those who can’t package and label themselves, shouldn’t settle for close-enough boxes that don’t quite fit or worse yet, adapt entirely incompatible boxes based on the success of others. It’s quite possible you don’t require a box at all. It’s quite possible the world must still not only recognize, but also pronounce you.