In part 1 of this series, we looked at a video that showcased an artist as a role model, another that shed light on the creative process of an up-and-coming band, and a third that brought international superstars back to their old digs to be humbled by their beginnings. For this installment, we’re going to revisit the political music video with TARICA’s “But, Anyway” as well as examine the success of the web series with a look at NPR’s Tiny Desk.

Tarica’s “But, Anyway”
Suzanne Vega’s “Tom’s Diner” has been sampled, remixed, covered and served up in countless fashions. Over the years everyone from Aaliyah to Britney Spears to Fall Out Boy to R.E.M have tried their hand at the 1987 classic, always placing the songs unmistakable “duh duh duh duduh, duh duh duduh” at the forefront of their efforts. Most recently, D.C. rapper Tarica June included the interlude in her song “But, Anyway.” In the song rather than recounting the patrons of a local cafe as Vega did decades before, June discusses the gentrification of her home town. With personal, frank and adept lines like, “But anyway, this is third generation for me / My parents and my grandparents all from DC / So I feel like I notice things other folks can’t see / And like I represent things other folks can’t be”, June makes her point without so much as raising her voice. Her approach, unlike many others, is one of hope and positivity with the song’s chorus opening with, “But anyway I can go on forever about all of the bull sh, how I’m trying to make it better or even about me and the 21st letter.” The rest of the rap is filled with even more clever rhymes and insight. June clearly knows what she’s talking about, cares about the issue and isn’t just writing a politically-charged song because it’s the vogue thing to do. This understanding is further cemented by the “But, Anyway” video. In it, June stands at various iconic D.C. sites, but not one’s you’ll pass on a sightseeing tour. She walks through street corners and past Metro stations that any D.C. resident would recognize, like the Marvin Gaye mural on S St., NW, between 7th & 8th. She makes it evident that this is her city and speaks for it.

NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert series presents Palehound
NPR’s aptly titled “Tiny Desk” series has had quite the impact on live performances. It took the occurrence of the often-blase taped live performance and made it artful. The NPR space can’t, by the looks of it, have stellar acoustics, but somehow the sound and soul behind each performance always carries through. Each new installment features a band crammed into a literal desk space that looks like minutes before it was cleared away just enough to fit a four-piece indie group. Acts as big as the National and as up-and-coming as PWR BTTM have graced the “stage.” They’ve huddle with their instruments, both acoustic and electric, amongst halfway assembled drum kits, brass sections, egg shakers, backup singers and all manner musical things and delivered some of the most intimate performances of recent years. It’s a strange phenomena and some are already writing on the subject. Tiny Desk has gone from an off-shoot of Bob Boilen’s “All Songs Considered” to a career changer of a concert series. In Matt Weiner’s Mad Men, everyone’s favorite womanizing antihero says, “Every agency on Madison Avenue is defined by the moment they got their car.” Perhaps we are now in an age in which every musician in the business will vie for the chance to play amongst the tour posters and music anthologies of the NPR offices. Recently, indie rockers Palehound stopped by NPR to participate in Tiny Desk. Lead guitarist/vocalist Ellen Kempner, who formed the band as a solo project and now fronts the act, was joined by Jesse Weiss on drums and Dave Khostinat on bass. Together the Allston act played “Pet Carrot,” “Dry Food” and “Dixie” off of 2015’s Dry Food. The songs sounded hand tailored for the space. It was as if Kempner had written the whispering chorus of “Pet Carrot” with Boilen’s desk mic in mind. The performance is a strong example of both Palehound’s potential as a band and Boilen’s ability to pick performers that will shine if invited to his table- or rather, desk.

by Zoe Marquedant