Santigold Has Dark Skin, Album On Pitchfork, Umpteen Remixes, But Is Totally Not M.I.A.
Note: This piece was assigned but ultimately not published.
Just to clear things up – here are the Six Degrees of Separation game between Maya Arulpragasam and Santi White: Diplo was M.I.A.’s DJ during the tour for her 2005 breakthrough album Arular. Diplo then had a hand in the production of Santigold’s(then Santogold – copyright issues forced the name change in early 2009) début self-titled album.
As a result, the two women’s music tends to turn up in the hands of the same Downtown Records friends and family (whose labels include heavyhitters like Diplo’s Mad Decent, Steve Aoki’s Dim Mak, and A-Trak’s Fool’s Gold). Despite very different beginnings – Santigold a former member of Bad Brains- (yep, the ‘80s D.C. hardcore punk band) helmed band Stiffed, and M.I.A. a London film student and video art enthusiast – their current careers are largely riding on mainstream hits like “Creator” and “Paper Planes”, both bass-heavy, club-ready tracks with obviously marketable “exotic-sounding” aspects.
Crossbooked with Glasvegas and playing after – of all people – Robert Earl Keen, Santigold drew an impressive pre-show crowd – one that could throw all of their clothes together and probably open up an Urban Outfitters and at least a couple American Apparels. There were two shirtless, fratty boys from Texas with Bud Lights standing behind me, drawing stares from the waifish girl rolling a joint with her friend whose biggest goal in life probably is to be featured on The Cobrasnake. One of the Texans exclaimed loudly that he didn’t even know who Santigold was as the other’s sweaty, naked stomach pressed against my back (where, unable to move within the packed crowd, it would remain for the next hour). A gay hipster in front of me espoused his wish for Santigold to (somehow?) play N.A.S.A.’s “Gifted”, which would require not only DJ Zegon and Squeak E. Clean, but Lykke Li and, um, Kanye West. Then he surveyed his surrounding group of friends, asking, “Santigold or M.I.A.?”
Santigold came on stage fifteen minutes late, which was annoying but not totally inexcusable, since she only has a repertoire of eleven songs (not counting unreleased tracks like the fabulous “Your Voice”, which you should download immediately if you haven’t already). Still, it’s not like she’s over sixty years old, searching for bifocals, and has possibly forgotten where the stage is (COUGH COUGH LOU REED).
She sort of made up for the lateness, however, with a fantastic outfit – think waitress in the Sahara. Her backup dancers – in ruffled button-ups and gold lame jackets – still remind me of every Wes Anderson movie ever made, since they’re quirky and slightly robotic and clearly there to distinguish the artist’s performance from the mainstream’s.
Santi opened bringing out the big guns – the album’s first single ,“L.E.S. Artistes”, which has to do with affected New York City youngsters, not French painters. She rolled through lesser tracks like “Anne” and “Unstoppable”, did an obligatory-seeming cut from “Brooklyn We Go Hard” (Jay-Z couldn’t make it, either), then played through the latter half of the album, with “Unstoppable” and “Starstruck” – the latter which I think is not only better than “Creator”, but sounds as if it’s already been remixed by her “Crunk Wave” fiancé Trouble Andrew, that’s how many great elements it has going on at once.
Things were soon getting crazy, i.e. security had their hands full with crowd surfers (at Santigold?) and Santi was covering The Cure’s classic “Killing An Arab”. About a dozen people (including a child; a shorter, impressively similarly styled version of Santigold; and the gay hipster, who had brought a handdrawn sign – awesome!) were selected to dance while Santigold closed with, obviously, “Creator”, a song that even the Texas brahs recognized, possibly from the Bud Light with Lime (a good song for a bad idea, I think they would agree) commercials. It’s no “Paper Planes”, but at this point in her career, Santi White has a good chance at solidifying a distinct identity for herself as an artist; to, shall we say, find herself an innovator.