Azealia Banks released today a video for “Ice Princess,” the second single from her album, Broke With Expensive Taste. The single like “Chasing Time” represents what Banks does best, which is too mash up pared down, masculine feeling rap bars with the airy fairy yet tragic feel of ’90s house. Directed by production group We Were Monkeys, the animated video depicts Banks as a futuristic, iced out Medusa, who, naturally (it’s Banks after all), is at war with forces of evil. Very much it reminds us of the “The End of Eating Everything,” a video collaboration between artist Wangechi Mutu and singer Santigold (embedded below) that also featured a Medusa in a world gone awry theme.
As always with Banks we enjoy her talent and wish things had gone oh-so-differently in terms of the music contract that tied her up for so long and drained her of so much momentum and public good will, not just by the public but also her musical peers, many of which surely were put off by her seemingly endless and often ugly feuds with other musicians.
Still, knowing of her hard knock upbringing we can’t help but root for her and as such found it disappointing to see Erykah Badu dismiss her a few months back on Twitter. We agree with Star, who called out Badu earlier this month on VladTV, stating that as an elder she should have found a way to either encourage Banks or give her space by not saying anything at all. The truth is Badu came up in a different time and the resources and support she had in making her music were far greater than Banks has ever received.
And yet, it’s hard not to wish Banks get off of her ultra-polarizing ways when it comes to her public comments on race. Her recent explanation for why she rails on white people publicly but dates a white man privately, saying black men take black women for granted, came across as disingenuous and mean. No great artiste is ever a fountain of purity, but wouldn’t it be cool if Banks were to flip the script on the politics of her musical influences and rather than embracing the militant homophobia of ’90s era rap and extrapolating it into a modern day take on race, tapped into the all-embracing love and zaniness of the same period’s house music and using her own brujeria magic powers, cook up something that’s loving at its core and yet still contains Banks’ trademark Harlem triple snap.
Our wishes aside, we recognize “it’s not the critic that counts,” rather as Teddy Roosevelt says, “credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs.” Bank’s book is far from written and we are watching intently as her chapters unfold. Do your thing, Ms. Banks, wishes of good things for you as you walk along the tightrope of life.
