Zach Combs, aka New MC, kicks it solo with “White Jesus.”

City Pages, November 15, 2007

Cool Like Zach

By Amber Schadewald

Photo by Jeff Wheeler

New MC, Zach Combs, with his DJ Chris Young in the background.

Zach Combs asks if we can meet at a coffee shop. Once there, I order a latte. He orders a soy milk. Then “Big Zach” lets me in on a little secret: He’s never had a cup of coffee. Ever.”That stuff is like crack,” he says. It’s an opinion he formed more than a decade ago after watching his co-workers twitch while waiting for their morning fix at the factory. “They became slaves to that stuff.”

He sips his soy milk, takes a spoonful of yogurt parfait and slouches back in his chair. Even amid the buzz of the shop, the world seems to slow down in his cool presence.

Combs has avoided the caffeinated drip and instead found himself a more satisfying high: hip-hop. The Minneapolis-born and -raised rapper (who also goes by Big Zach or New MC) is sort of a local hip-hop superstar. Sauntering down the street or into a club, the 6-foot-2 smooth talker can introduce you to half the Twin Cities population. People tug on his oversized hoodie, pat him on the back or grab a handshake.

Combs has been rapping since age 14, most prominently with the group Kanser. Weeks after turning 30, he’s finally releasing a solo album as New MC, titled “White Jesus” (referring to yet another of his nicknames). Combs’ songs are a peek into the underwear drawer, uncovering heartfelt stories about parted friends and family and secrets about perverted encounters in bathrooms and sub shops. His rhymes can be dirty and borderline offensive; luckily,his debonair intonation somehow makes them sound arousing and even slightly romantic.

Combs sees “White Jesus” as an opportunity to open up and be himself, with no worries about pleasing a specific fan base, tailoring to a band’s established repertoire or hiding behind surface-level lyrics. And Combs is ready to kiss and tell. “I’m not ashamed of anything,” he states with utter confidence.

Combs showcases his rap skills on the new CD without forgetting to undo his belt and let loose. He isn’t out to create world peace — he just wants listeners to walk away with a positive feeling.

“God put me on this universe to be as honest as I can be and if I can help out a fellow musician, I will,” he says.

Others obviously feel the same way about Combs. After an incident on Lyndale Avenue last month, Combs found his nose in a mess of medical problems. Friends, fans and fellow musicians stepped up and dropped thousands of dollars in Big Zach’s hat.

Combs is still floored over the support he received. Adjusting in his chair and glancing over his shoulder, he almost seems to blush.

“I feel like I’ve given my whole life to the Twin Cities hip-hop community,” he says in a quiet voice. “And now they’ve given back to me.”

Vita.mn Back to School Cover Story

Get Schooled 2007: School of rock

November 12, 2007

Many of the best music venues and dance clubs in town are close to campus.

By Amber Schadewald, Class of 2007

Photo by Tom Wallace

A jewel of the Dinkytown music scene, the Varsity Theater is often 18-plus and always pretty inside.

Photo by Tom Wallace

Other than the math equations with tiny letters, your hardest problem this fall will be choosing where to take in some tunes. That’s because the Twin Cities is plump with eclectic, affordable music venues, many of which admit under-21 fans.Near the University of Minnesota’s West Bank campus, the Nomad World Pub has a great variety of local acts along with a nice patio for cancer sticks and “tall-boy” socials. Nearby, the punk-oriented Triple Rock Social Club brings national acts to a midsize stage, blasting your ears but not your wallet.

On the East Bank, Dinkytown’s majestic Varsity Theater is a step away from the dorms and a bike trip from the other corners of the city. The Varsity hosts hefty bills of independent music — often 18-plus, sometimes all-ages, and always pretty. Just around the corner, the Dinkytowner is by far the best place to get your fix of underground hip-hop. The basement bar also has monthly 18-plus music and dance nights.

If you’re attracted to the big lights, downtown Minneapolis’ First Avenue and its smaller conjoined twin, the 7th Street Entry, both have calendars packed with killer shows that are affordable and age-varying. Up in northeast Minneapolis, the 331 Club will serve you a hearty helping of folk, bluegrass and a yummy grilled cheese if you ask nicely. Cross the border to St. Paul, the dueling Big V’s and Turf Club win for their mix of rock, punk and tattered regulars.

Sometimes you’ve gots to chill. With its collection of comfy things to sit your tired self upon, Dinkytown’s Kitty Cat Klub keeps things low-key and romantic for weeknight outings. In south Minneapolis, the Acadia Cafe is all about acoustic. Acts may only play original material, so if you want Journey or Elton John, you’ll have to re-route to Block E’s Shout House piano bar.

Dancing

Wanna show off your fancy footwork? First Avenue’s 18-plus Saturday dance night Too Much Love is the hipster answer to downtown clubs like Spin, Escape, Envy and Aqua, meaning a night filled with innovative dance mixes and not lady-lump-humping creepsters. Foundation has DJs spinning drum and bass on Wednesdays, with various other DJs nightly. The Gay ’90s has three 18-plus nights and three dance floors, but way more than three types of attendees. And if you’re looking to dance to a different beat, Nye’s Polonaise Room has the World’s Most Dangerous Polka Band every weekend, while the Loring Pasta Bar’s Saturday Salsa night is packed with talented steppers.

If none of these options sounds appealing, face it — you’re boring.

My first Vita.mn Cover Story!!!

Nightlife: Hello, ladies!

November 12, 2007 Cover:

Get the girls together for Ladies’ Night, where the drinks flow freely if you’re female — and the boys are sure to follow.

By Amber Schadewald

Sometimes, being a woman sucks. There are double standards, sexual harassment, glass ceilings and high heels, not to mention the not-so-pleasant week when your ovaries feel like they’re made of expensive cutlery.Yet at the same time, any female knows there are numerous perks: intuition, smooth skin, voluptuouscurves, and one which the friendly nightlife industry is pleased to present — Ladies’ Night.

Sure, getting free or cheap booze based on your gender is a strange concept, but on a budget, I’m not going to complain. Drink specials, fancy giveaways and reduced (or free) cover are common components of bar nights designated for the lady population. But whatever the bonuses may be, chicks are not the only benefactors. Like any other business, bars are in the game to make bucks, meaning they’ve got to bring in the crowds not just on weekends, but every night of the week. How do they do this? Women.

The number of women a bar can attract greatly affects its reputation and, in turn, its profits. As much as we’d all like to think bars just want to treat us gals because we’re so fantastic, Ladies’ Nights are designed with dollar signs in mind.

A big part of bar culture revolves around the possibility of meeting that special someone (or at least hooking up with them). A good bar needs a healthy mix of people who are attracted to one another, allowing the swapping of numbers, or the swapping of spit, to entertain the masses. At least in the hetero sense, if a bar can get women in the door, then men and their wallets will be close behind.

“Ladies’ Night” is a less crude way of saying “Anti-Sausage Fest Night.” Cash-wise, the boys may be shelling out a bit more, but after a survey of Twin Cities Ladies’ Night crowds, you’ll see men are willing to pay the price in order to be in the company of fabulous females. And the bargain prices just mean that women are paying less than usual for men to gawk at them.

So where should you and your best gal pals go to find those discounted sips? Depending on where you and the crew like to crawl, specials can be found if you know where to look. While every bar near the U of M campus has deals galore for the womenfolk, Uptown seems to have completely ruled out Ladies’ Night. Downtown Minneapolis and St. Paul each have a handful of healthy specials, usually a bit more extensive than what’s on tap. Whatever your fancy, take advantage, ladies — because on Saturday night in Minneapolis, there’s no such thing as a free drink.

Just remember, even if you didn’t have to pay for your drink, you still need to tip your friendly bartender.

Bootleggers

If you feel like dressing to impress, being girly and getting pampered like a princess, hop in a taxi to the Warehouse District on a Thursday night. Bootleggers not only offers free drinks from 9 to 11 p.m., but with a reservation, women can enjoy complimentary chocolate-covered strawberries and champagne. The bar also hires professionals twice a month to give hand massages and manicures. And if that’s not enough, Bootleggers also lures ladies with weekly drawings for Coach purses and tanning packages.

Free stuff aside, the Bootleggers’ waitstaff alone attracts business. The handsome men in suspenders have tables of ladies vying for attention. College student Katie Basara and her friends chill at Bootleggers every Thursday, batting their lashes amid a table full of sweets. “I already have a Coach purse,” Basara blushed. “I’m here for the hot bartenders.”

Other women find Bootleggers to be a good spot for mingling. “I don’t get the creep vibe here,” said Alison Hanson, another college student who was visiting the bar with her girlfriends. Depending on what you like, that could be a plus or a minus.

Why is Alison Hanson, 24, of Minneapolis dancing at Bootleggers in downtown Minneapolis? Maybe because women drink free from 9 to 11 p.m. on Thursdays.

The Lodge Bar

The Lodge Bar also provides champagne and fruit, but this fall they’re banking on “what women really want” — i.e., comfy couches and “Grey’s Anatomy.” On Thursday nights, the sofas roll out, the TVs turn to the doctor drama and ladies drink free till close. Typecasting femininity to a T, the tables get classy tablecloths and flowers. At midnight, the Lodge gives away DVDs, Coach wristlets and tanning and manicure packages. What do the guys get? Two dollar you-call-its and a room full of women wishing for Dr. McDreamy.

Elizabeth Bahra and a friend, both twentysomething college graduates, happened to stop into the Lodge on a Thursday. Although they appreciated the free goodies, the chocolate didn’t compensate for the lack of company. “Yes, we’re celebrating girls’ night out, but we want more boys here,” she said with a pout. Bahra also found the concept of ladies night at the Lodge a bit humorous. “The flowers are cute, but there are still dead animals all over the walls.”

• View the full venue listing

Sally’s Saloon and Eatery

The epitome of the college bar, Sally’s hosts one of the biggest ladies’ nights in town. From 10 p.m. to midnight every Wednesday, the Saloon wrangles in frat boys, sorority girls and twentysomethings who like to associate with them. The only thing women need in order to drink free is patience: It can take a few minutes and a few elbows into your chest before you get up to the bar. Wednesday night also has a non-gendered list of evening specials. Sally’s does have a nice-size patio, and they’ve recently extended their dance floor for the dizzy, possibly dirty, dancers.

• View the full venue listing

The Dinkytowner

If it’s good music you and your posse are looking for, the Dinkytowner rarely disappoints. On Monday nights, DJs spin killer mixes of old favorites and beats to make you dance. Women receive two free drinks of their choice — meaning you can skip the toxic rail liquor that most other places offer. The Dinkytowner can get pretty busy, but the staff is always accommodating. Women of all sexual orientations will find ample choices for flirting.

• View the full venue listing

The Wild Onion

If you’re a St. Paulie woman, the Wild Onion hosts its ladies’ night on Thursdays, for a (small) price: no free drinks, just deals on rails, bottles and $5 Cosmos. Nestled on Grand Avenue, the place attracts the St. Thomas crowd, especially when students hit the wall mid-semester. Every half-hour, the bar gives away its own gift cards, including a $75 grand prize tab at 12:30. Servers say the evening usually has a 50-50 guy-girl ratio. (If you’re male-identified or just like less feminized drinking activities, step into the Onion on Monday for “Man Night” — horrendously huge mugs of beer, steak sandwich specials and, of course, football. Dudes can roll dice for free drinks.)

• View the full venue listing

The American Sports Cafe

Going out can be a lot of work, so it’s nice to be able to skip the makeup, put on your favorite sneakers and enjoy looking naturally beautiful for a change. If that’s something you don’t generally like to do in public, get over yourself and pull up a stool at the American. Ladies drink free every Wednesday and Saturday from 9 to 11 p.m. A rarity, the American’s Ladies’ Night crowd is primarily women. Over the years it’s also become a popular place for queer women, who account for a large percentage of the Wednesday night patrons. The atmosphere is über-chill, the drinks are strong and the booths are comfy.

Photo by Carlos Gonzalez
Lindsay Scanlon, 25, poured sparkling wine for Teresa Regenauer, 24, and friends at Bootleggers.

Monday

• Envy: Free drinks until 11 p.m.

Tuesday

• Sneaky Pete’s: 7 p.m.-1 a.m., free drinks.

Wednesday

• Memory Lanes: 9-11 p.m., three free drinks.
• Sgt. Preston’s: 8-11 p.m., free rails/taps.
• Visage: free drinks until midnight.

Thursday

• Axis Nightclub: $1 drinks until midnight.
• Bellanotte : 10 p.m.-midnight, $2.50 domestic/well drinks.
• Big 10 Sports Cafe: 10-11 p.m., free rails/taps.
• Brothers Bar & Grill: 8 p.m.-2 a.m., $1 martinis.
• Bullwinkle’s Saloon: 11 p.m.- midnight, free rails/taps.
• Burrito Loco: 11 p.m.-midnight, $1 drinks.
• Gabby’s Saloon & Eatery: 9 p.m.-midnight; free drinks with $10 cover.
• Liola: 9-11 p.m., free wine/rails/taps with $5 cover.
• Lone Tree Bar & Grill: 9 p.m.-midnight, free rails/taps.

Friday

• Down Time: 9 p.m.-2 a.m. Fri.; two free drinks.

Digitata have the power to break your fever

May 16, 2007

 

The Electro-Pop Cure

by Amber Schadewald

 

 

Digitata
Two Daggers
Totally Gross National Product

It’s spring, and I’ve got the attention span of a cocker spaniel. When sitting indoors, my leg twitches fast enough to run a small scooter. I’ll purposely park five blocks from home, sleep on my fire escape, and aim to get lost on bike rides—whatever excuse I can find to be in the fresh air.

My spring fever has turned into a full-blown case of summer-driven ADD. I’m tempted to sit outside a local high school holding a sign that reads: “Will do homework for Adderall.”

Thank god I’ve found somewhat of a replacement—

Digitata.

The local band’s sophomore album, Two Daggers, has eased my frustration with this time of year, providing me with a soundtrack of spastic electronic eruptions and kinky vocals. Digitata’s three members combine their talents to form the musical version of a Spin Art masterpiece. Like that ’90s DIY project, they mix fluorescent hues together and let them drip over a spinning wheel of electronic manipulation.

Tired from a long Wednesday on the clock, the memebers of Digitata—Maggie Morrison, Ryan Olson, and Drew Christopherson—refresh with a jam session held in a haze of smoke and high volume. The music addicts live under the same roof, with Christopherson as third wheel to the nonchalant couple. Their lives are completely saturated with music, although occasionally they take time to watch Blue Planet ocean specials or head out to a movie. The lack of drive-in movie theaters is a common complaint of the group. In response to my wondering why there aren’t more around, Christopherson shrugs.

“The world is falling apart,” he says, and Morrison and Olson agree, noting the decline in the polar bear population, record stores, and cool people in general.

Daggers is a bright collection of songs full of lip-biting, danceable goodness. Morrison’s bitter vocals swirl in harmony with the melodies she produces from “Whirly,” her electric piano. Christopherson keeps it rock-inspired with wicked drum beats, while Olson tinkers with “the box,” a magical source of electric laser sounds, undaunted static bumps, futuristic flutes, and battery-operated cricket noises.

If you’re a Digitata fan or MySpace friend, you may have heard the songs already. The band recorded the album in October of ‘06, but delayed its release due to Christopherson and Olson’s other musical commitments: hardcore group Building Better Bombs and hip-hop rockers Mel Gibson and the Pants. Since the turn of the year, Digitata has only had two performances, and the group is more than ready to get the noise off the back burner and bring it back to the stage.

This time around, the lyrics are more heavy-handed than on their 2005 debut. Morrison’s written a collection of intimate poetry based on personal emotional explorations—a big change from the days when she would just ramble off gibberish and improvise during live shows.

The tracks on Daggers sound a bit depressing when their titles are read aloud, as they circle around the building and destruction of relationships, but the mood comes through differently when listening to the album; the upbeat alliance of sounds overshadows the passive-aggressive lyrical poetry.

Before heading off to a friends’ show, Morrison sips a Grain Belt and explains her take on my spring tonic: “This way everyone dances to my misery.”

Naughty By Nature Suck It Up

@First Ave Aug 19 2007

by Amber Schadewald

 

Watch the Slideshow

Better Than: watching 50 Cent do pushups in your parent’s basement.

You down with OPP? How ’bout–do you know what OPP stands for? I’d have to guess that the majority of the “all ages” crowd is too young to have a clue, judging by the fact that most of them had a curfew to mind that evening. Naughty by Nature started out their set with their super hit, “OPP”, putting things in old school perspective and reminding the older cats of their hip-hop roots.

Treach wore more bling than a Christmas tree, including a shimmering belt buckle in the shape of a crown. His co-star, Vin Rock, came out in a Twins hoodie. Naughty by Nature was all about getting the crowd involved, instructing them to make fists, jump, or wave their arms from side to side. The audience ate it all up, and didn’t hesitate to shout back a “turn it up,” or “check it out” when prompted.

Treach started out wearing multiple layers, but began shedding pieces of clothing until he was down to a white tank top, perfect for showcasing his big guns (as in biceps). Only half-way in, he decided the shirt had to go and attempted to rip it off. Unfortunately it ripped awkwardly into shreds, leaving chunks dangling around his waist. Eventually he slipped it down to his ankles and stepped out of the mangled cotton.

At one point, he stood mid-stage and took pulls from a bottle of Hennessey. Then he kissed the tattoo of 2Pac on his arm and poured Hennessey all over his arm. Talking to his tattoo in a low voice, Treach uttered, “When I drink, you drink. When I smoke, you smoke. When I fuck, you fuck.”— uh, wtf?

The group played classics like “Hip Hop Hooray,” “Uptown Anthem,” “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright”, and a few less known in-betweeners. A chunk of their performance was filled with random samples of Snoop Dogg, 2Pac, and other more recent club hits. In closing the show, Treach made the DJ cut his beat to clear up any speculation that Naughty By Nature was a one hit wonder. (They at least had five).

Personal Bias: I got hit in the face by the condom Treach threw out into the crowd.

Random Detail: Treach was wearing “Naughty By Nature” boxers.

By the Way: Treach made a shout out to popstar Pink, saying, “She’s gangster as a mother fucker. We love Pink.”

The Cool Kids put a fresh spin on old school hip-hop

August 8, 2007

by Amber Schadewald

 

 

Image by Daniel Corrigan

<!–Image by Daniel Corrigan

–>

Watch the Slideshow

Better Than: finding a vintage pair of short-shorts that fit the junk in your trunk.

After a mediocre performance by Muja Messiah and a stellar set by Digitata, the Cool Kids took over the crowd just as they should, looking smooth and sounding like butter. The bass rattled from ears to shoelaces as Mikey and Chuck rocked the mic wearing their flat brimmed hats slightly to the side and steppin’ in their smudge-free Puma sneaks. Their earlobes glitzed and their gold chains hung low over their black and graphically induced T’s. Samarah, of local band Black Blondie instructed the only-somewhat fashion conscious crowd to “loosen up” and show these boys “what Minneapolis is all about.” Everyone from the dude in the skeleton shirt, the guy with the popped collar and the girl with the sequined-cami all danced with hands high as best they could at 12:30 on a Sunday night. Luckily there were free energy drink samples on-site, which I should’ve stashed in my fanny pack for work in the morning. Foundation’s stage is separated from the crowd by a high bar railing, which Chuck said made him feel like he was “in a cage.” Fans danced through the chest-high bars without much notice, chanting along to songs most have only been able to hear on MySpace. The vocals were a bit muddled, but choruses on crowd favorites rang true, inspiring sing-alongs like “because I floss so hard” and “a little gold on the pager,” which in any other setting, would confuse most anyone over 26. Chuck did the majority of the talking between songs, promising to give out his pager number after the show and dissing the authorities. “How do you feel about the police?” Chuck asked the room, getting boos and hisses in response. Blotting his forehead with his plaid handkerchief, Chuck explained that on his way to Minneapolis yesterday he received his first-ever speeding ticket for going five miles over the limit. Being that we were all underground, the show felt old-school authentic and when the Kids said they were going to bring us back to 1988, I almost had trouble recalling the current year. As close to a time machine as possible, these Chicago guys are bring hip-hop back full circle to its humble roots, rapping about what real people know, like bikes and wanting to be hip, versus the 50 cent lifestyles most of us can’t imagine.

Critic’s Notebook

Personal Bias: I wore way more neon than anyone else in the place.

Random Detail: Searching for The Cool Kids online will result in “fun” science projects and lots of people who are so not cool at all.

By the way: One of the groupies on stage had TP stuck to her stiletto heel during the first half of the set.

Kwang: For What It’s Worth

July 18, 2007

 

by Amber Schadewald

Kwang
For What It’s Worth
Root of All Evil

The harsh guitars of glam rock on For What It’s Worth remind me of the days when radios blared Aerosmith and Guns N’ Roses like they were going out of style (which they were). Fortunately for fans still holding on to their favorite acid-washed jeans, Kwang are keeping razor-sharp rock ‘n’ roll alive.

For What It’s Worth is Kwang’s latest release, and their second full-length. The local group’s influences are obvious—KISS, Cheap Trick, Mötley Crüe, and Van Halen, all of which seem to have been melded together and cast into a local mold on this disc. Their Minnesota pride hits home with the track “Rock and Roll! Baseball! Big Tornados!,” a little shout-out to all things great in the neighborhood. The whiny-man voice and motivated beat make it a perfect mix-tape track, best for blasting out the windows of a white van.

In their press materials, Kwang promise “real” rock, which, in their case, seems to mean ’70s rock. The tracks here flex between punk-inspired bangers to slow, emotional downers like “Sad Letters.”

Their album is lined with relentless guitar mauling and vocals old Mr. Johnston downstairs (or next door, or two-houses-down, for that matter), won’t appreciate. This band will rock you till your ears bleed—it’s up to you to determine whether you find that enjoyable.

Some Days, You Wake Up and Feel Like Changing the World

Mood Indigo

August 8, 2007

by Amber Schadewald

 

You’d better recycle, ’cause she’ll knock your teeth out.
Image by Kris Drake for City Pages

When your daily dose can’t keep the demons away, why not replace your prescription with hip hop, and call a fellow MC in the morning? Raps and rhymes will refresh you and leave you ready to conquer whatever lies ahead. Take it from Indigo—a local rapper who used her art to phoenix after an intense streak of tribulations.

“It seems the more bad stuff that happens, the more good stuff that happens,” muses the young woman who, although identifying herself as a person of color, prefers not to elaborate on precise details of heritage. Her beaded earrings dangle as she concludes with a shrug, “It’s some kind of karmic balance.”

In the last five years, Indigo Leah Bartizal, 26, lost both her father and grandmother, became homeless, sent her mother to treatment, gave birth to her first child, and struggled to survive on “welfare checks.” She coped by making her own music, and her determination to share her voice with others carried her through studio stresses and molasses-paced production.

The end result is Kiri’ke’, an album of polycultural beats and familiar local names. Besides her son’s debut six-second freestyle, the album features indigenous flute solos from Shock B, underground beats by NinjaGator, guest spots by P.O.S. and Spikaboxxx—plus nature sounds and bird chirps. And like a feather-ruffling wind, Indigo’s message of hope and challenge flows over the top of it all.

“The American dream rips the earth at its seams,” she raps. “Knowledge is power/Ignorance is slavery/Freedom is strength/Think, double-think.”

Even on a drab and drizzly Thursday evening, Indigo is a glowing beam of inspiration. “I feel better than ever, but I’m just holding my breath until I can actually hold [the CD],” she says. Wearing a Culture Shock Club T-shirt and turquoise jewelry, she sips on a red bean-coconut tea shake, looking through the paper for the night’s concert calendar. The Tea Garden has become her latest obsession—last week, after accidentally dropping a bag of shakes, she found herself carefully pouring the spilled contents into a cup when she got home.

Home for right now is the south side of Minneapolis, but she grew up in St. Paul, never staying in one place long enough to feel settled down.

“I was switching schools every year until fifth grade,” she says. “It was hard, but it taught me a lot about dealing with shitty people. I learned early how to let go and move on. I got really used to people coming and going in my life.”

Her parents were preoccupied with issues of their own, and without much supervision as an adolescent, she nearly partied herself out. She had a bleak take on her own future. “I didn’t think I was going to live past age 19,” she says.

But that changed when she began turning her childhood love of writing raps and poetry into a career. Of course, some people had discouraging words—she was warned of the difficulties she would face in the male-dominated rap community. Being taken seriously as a female MC wasn’t going to be easy.

“I don’t know if people just wanted me to be a pretty little thing, or if they just wanted me to shut the fuck up,” she says with a pout. “But I couldn’t help it. Rap becomes me.”

Just like her personality, Indigo’s music is full of sass. With lyrical swoons and provocative spits, her album oozes a sexuality that comes across (she hopes) as confident and respectable.

And while she’s dead set on holding her own onstage, she’d rather share a friendly fist-pound than have an MC battle.

“I don’t want to tear people down,” she says, speaking not just about the rap community but of the world at large. “It’s about connecting, not dividing.”

Her music aims to give women and youth a soundtrack for their own voices, and for their opinions on love, violence, and the environment. Her heart lies in fixin’ stuff. “I wish people would follow good trends, like composting. Not whatever Britney Spears is doing,” says the former Environmental Studies major.

Kiri’ke’ is clean of profanity; Indigo doesn’t want to provide kids with an excuse to muddy up their vocabularies. (After all, four-year-old son Eli often sings his mom’s songs while sitting in the back seat of the car.)

Indigo currently uses her rhymes on tour with Culture Shock Camp, a crew of hip-hop artists headed by her beau, DJ Shock B. Together they travel to Native American reservations across the country, from Oklahoma and Arizona, to northern Minnesota and the Dakotas, rapping and sharing hip hop that has a higher agenda than bragging about bling, hos, and rims.

“We bring the true stuff, the part of hip hop you can’t just consume,” she said. “We want to show these kids music that brings meaning to your life.”

Indigo believes the stage should be used as a soapbox, and that music is for educating people. She hopes to serve as a role model and likes to surround herself with young people (her CD release show is all-ages.)

“With the mic in your hand, you have the choice to become either a performer or an activist,” she says.

Her choice is obvious.