We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Post​-​Post​-​Race

by Guante & Katrah-Quey

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price

     

1.
White people on Twitter are angry saying “why does it always have to be about race?” they never owned slaves and they only say the n-word when they’re drunk and never to anyone’s face white people on Twitter are offended by the fact that anyone anywhere’s offended the outrage about the outrage when it’s about race is endless white people on Twitter are defensive playin’ devil’s advocate in your mentions and they’ll probably check out before they empathize ‘cause white people on twitter “don’t like to be generalized” that’s the greatest sin you can commit groupin’ people together is at the source of all of this- or so the white people on twitter say just stop talkin’ about racism and it will go away, right? “Love and light: it’s not complex” like a Martin Luther King quote out of context Yeah they got a lotta quotes lined up like dominoes, arguing with Ta-Nehisi Coates white people on twitter have feelings white people on twitter have FEELINGS so many FEELINGS, so it’s doubtless that every conversation is in orbit around them and I can hear ‘em sayin’ right now: “whatever dude, you’re white too,” I’m like true I ain’t full-blooded but I am a little bit enough that white kids still listen to my shit white people on twitter are my fanbase white people on twitter self-deprecate but this is bigger than saying the right things on the right platform this is about how we transform when police kill a black child, white people on twitter stay quiet funny how they got so much to say soon as you mention a racial bias soon as a protest turns to a riot that’s when they’ll talk about violence but not a peep for the blood in the street or the ave when it’s drawn by a thug with a badge and I know white people on Twitter aren’t evil racism’s bigger than bigotry it’s a history but white people on Twitter tell me all lives matter the newspaper disagrees the nightly news disagrees the statistics disagree the lived experience of millions of our neighbors disagrees so who do you believe?
2.
and I can hear ‘em sayin’ I can fly, why can’t you? anyone can do it, that’s the honest truth paparazzi snappin’ at my twenty foot wingspan I’m sure you could grow ‘em too if you really wanted to ooh… I can fly, why can’t you? the genetic engineering took a generation and a billion dollars, but most importantly a positive attitude so what’s the matter with you? (tony the scribe): You seen them rich folk takin’ up the sky? I heard ‘em comin’ down tryin’ to tell us how to fly Sayin’ that’s it’s simple, all you gotta do is try All it take is hot wax, work ethic, and some twine Keep your mind focused and the universe provide But if you come from the top all you gotta do is glide These people stay blind; ‘til they watch us ball from the courtside And make me wonder if they ever been to the northside It’s better lookin’ down from the sky Than it is lookin’ up from the ground, and boy I’m lookin’ around And I ain’t seen no goddamn angel all I’m seein’ is some icarus clowns, boy it’s been gettin’ me down They won’t hear what we need They just offer up ideas and bounce All these well-meaning white folks with 20-foot wingspans Singin’ too goddamn loud I can fly, why can’t you? anyone can do it, that’s the honest truth paparazzi snappin’ at my twenty foot wingspan I’m sure you could grow ‘em too if you really wanted to ooh… I can fly, why can’t you? the genetic engineering took a generation and a billion dollars, but most importantly a positive attitude so what’s the matter with you? (guante): If you should ever find yourself fallin’ from the sky just remember: this is America where some people have wings and some do not but we all have equal access to prayin’ while we drop If you should ever find yourself burning Just remember: this is America Where if you work hard and believe in yourself Those flames will jump from you on to somebody else If you should ever find yourself buried alive just remember: this is America where it may seem like six feet of dirt has you trapped but don’t worry, just pull yourself up by your bootstraps If you should ever find yourself here in the land of the free and the home of the brave bring a photo ID and have no fear smile for the cameras, we’re all celebrities here I can fly, why can’t you? I’m gettin’ closer to the sun every second and from this elevation, I see your arms wavin’ I just can’t tell if it’s a warning or a celebration
3.
I don’t recognize this place anymore Grew up around the corner, before these lines and borders but I don’t recognize this place anymore I ain’t afraid of ghosts I grew up in a place where they’re takin’ over slow like death isn’t always the fading of a soul progress isn’t always related to growth the first step in building a skyscraper is digging up a very deep hole... you ever seen a city melt into a shadow of itself? you ever feel like there’s a lack of all the magic that we felt split an atom or a cell like it’s progress like destruction and creation are the same process yeah, and our relationship just ain’t been the same since the chains moved in .I still remember when I felt like a million bucks wasn’t worth a cent your heart is still the only place I want to live I just can’t afford the rent, yo I don’t recognize this place anymore a beautiful blank canvas, after all this color’s been banished I don’t recognize this place anymore I ain’t afraid of ghosts a house can’t be haunted if it never had a soul but tell me what happens when that house gets sold? does a spirit shiver when it’s stuck out in the cold? so this is how the world ends? a casual exorcism the closing of a story dressed up as the beginnin ’what’s the limit? here’s to the history we lived in here’s to the years we were able to resist this here’s to acid rain as it falls enveloped in each other as umbrellas dissolve you’ll caress my skin and I’ll peel it off until we’re nothin’ but our hearts underneath it all and then we’ll sell ‘em to developers for cheap and fall deeply asleep as the concrete just crawls over the whole earth ‘til all of a sudden you got this look like a cop sayin’ “you lost or something?” I don’t recognize this place anymore so I’ll leave for the last time, and treat every memory as a landmine ‘cause I don’t recognize this place anymore
4.
Sometimes, you are a lit match dropped into a boiling ocean. Sometimes, you are a stray dog proud of the sunrise after a long night of barking at the moon. Sometimes, you scream at the television, shadowbox mushroom clouds; your hand-to-hand hatred outclassed, outdated. You: post-apocalyptic litterbug. You: venomous spider in the basement of a burning building. You: whose anger is so vast, and so empty—all teeth, and no mouth, just that white rattle. Remember: white supremacy is not a shark; it is the water. It is how we talk about racism as white hoods and confederate flags, knowing that you own those things, and we don’t… as if we didn’t own this history too, this system—we tread water. And you: chum in a bucket. How many skinheads do you think are in the room when they set immigration law? Or decide curriculum for public schools? Or push policies like redlining, mandatory minimum sentencing, benign neglect, gentrification, broken windows policing, voter, ID, stop and frisk, three strikes, the drug war? Remember: the eye of the hurricane is the least destructive part. You: meanest glare in the chatroom, all poker-face and no cards. Was it your politically incorrect YouTube comment that made the median net worth of black families in this country nine percent the median net worth of white families? Which individual Donald Trump bigot bogeyman are we supposed to be angry at about the millions of people impacted by discrimination in housing, and banking, and education, and employment, and the criminal justice system, each year? Remember: sharks kill about one person each year; thousands drown. So, when there is a new name hashtagged each week, when police create more black stars than Hollywood; how long do we keep pointing out the bad apples, ignoring the fact that the orchard was planted on a mass grave? …and that we planted it there? Because of course, this isn’t really a poem for white supremacists. I don’t know any white supremacists. But I know a lot of people in my neighborhood, in my family. And I know myself. And I know how white supremacy is upheld, whether through our action, our inaction, or just through paying our tuition and taxes. How it isn’t just the broken treaty; it also the treaty. How a gavel can speak as loudly as a grenade. How a white fratboy in blackface on Halloween and his friend, who knows it’s wrong but doesn’t say anything, begin to blur together. How the real racists, today, are so often not even racist. Those teeth, sharper when smiling, sharper still when smiling, and meaning it. A burning cross is so dramatic. Just say: I don’t see race. Just say: we all have an equal chance if we work hard. Just say: all lives matter. Just say nothing; surround yourself with others who say nothing, and convince yourself that silence is the only song: this muted, underwater melody, this pulsing quiet. And when a chorus blooms in Baltimore, when trumpets sound in Ferguson, when every one of our cities breaks… into song, will we hear it? Will we choose to listen? Or will we just continue treading water, watching for that great, white, shark… not realizing that we’re drowning?
5.
uh, tryin’ to eat, tryin’ to live survival in the eye of the storm and the cipher spins like a spiral and we’re tryin’ to rise and then lightnin’ hits hairpins in every lock until they finally click, finally rich with information we can take it if we want it or just flip the station as that live audience applauds it cue laughtrack, did you hear that? they can laughter like a canister of tear gas clear as some follow the money and some follow the love we all follow somebody’s blueprint plain as the black print on the white one sheet bio grey areas are where I flow i know brilliant practitioners who lack listeners seen shamans make the ugliest spaces sacred seen the best minds of my generation wasted complacent playin’ video games off in the basement disillusioned with how the game went, i can’t blame them they can’t pay rent, we can’t separate the bullshit from the authentic when the mixing and the mastering are bought on credit (click click) is that the ticking of a time bomb or is it opportunity knockin’ on my jewel case coffin, (click) is that the stackin’ of chips, like gettin’ rich or the sound of a million white kids hittin’ skip not everyone who works hard earns it not everyone who works hard earns it not everyone who works hard earns it not everyone who works hard earns it so if they ever make you a monument scratch your name out, break it, spit on it, burn it (burn it, burn it, burn it) I wrote two sixteens on my two fifteens each day from sixteen to twenty two it seems I paid dues to eat, made time for rhymin’ but is that why this promoter’s in front of me smilin’? if I talk about violence will they call me violent or just “literate & politically-minded?” i got so many problems with authority this oratory is validated and plated with relish like “intelligent hip hop” doesn’t describe pretty much all of it? unless your definition of intelligent is off a bit I’m tryin’ to be self-aware but it’s hopeless when I got so many white rappers on my “nope” list huh and never had no class still the best MC in my grad school class it just feels sometimes like acknowledging your privilege is the new not acknowledging your privilege or rappin’ is the new “I have a black friend so I can’t be racist” but it’s a system not a sickness payback with interest or it’s useless no intentions, rhetoric, allies, or excuses yo… I thank everyone who’s tuned in deuces to every follower I’m losin’ defensiveness is a burden and skin is only surface, but history is real and it’s absolutely certain: not everyone who works hard earns it...
6.
(GP Jacob): You see more clearly when you look at life through multiple perspectives Don’t believe what you see on the screen they misdirect us We should hand out life sentences to multiple detectives But it ain’t just ‘bout the pigs; it’s ‘bout who gives the pigs directions Sower of confusion, wager of the war They build all the prisons, with intent they make decisions Invent racial divisions that they layer on the poor And if you help ‘em kill the Black man they pay a little more Racial bribery, the tv camera lied to me The preacher to my people reachin’ tryin’ to hit the lottery An immigrant is not a leach nor reason for my poverty Divide and conquer logic, the secret of their psychology In your brain is where a tyrant reign Not just one type; we need all kinda change ‘Cause the revolution can’t save you anyway Lines in the water, gotta build power many ways one bad cop is a problem but one bad cop is not the problem one bad department’s a problem but one bad department is not the problem one bad politician is a problem but one bad politician is not the problem .and when we don’t see the whole picture we treat the symptoms and keep gettin’ sicker (Guante): it’s July 4, 2015 and right away the song’s dated but timelessness is overrated I believe in calculated impatience readin’ my newsfeed like they’re loose leaf pages, yo so when the interviewer asks me why do you write so much about race? I’ll say today? how could I write about anything else? when art is a reflection of self and I’m alive at a time when so many are sentenced to cells and so many others are just gone and so many who look like me are statistically unlikely to go out in public and see anyone who doesn’t and city cops still live in the suburbs and every time a new controversy is unearthed we focus on the who what how and when every detail, blind to the wider trend because... one bad cop is a problem but one bad cop is not the problem one bad department’s a problem but one bad department is not the problem one bad politician is a problem but one bad politician is not the problem and on the flipside we need a movement because one good person is not a solution (Tish Jones): Is this a call to action or dissatisfaction we feel Both: impact, analysis, what’s happenin’ is ill Still feelin’ like a fraction ‘cause I’m Black and in the field In the belly of the beast, and it don’t skip meals To be real: they still eatin’ off the back of we Imprison us in factories, it’s funny how the past repeats Or how they mask it with this black ink Sentence after sentence in the pen, shit is mad deep Six feet, every 28, that’s a true stat Lookin’ at the boys in blue like where yo noose at Judge and the jury like where the fuck the truth at And bodies of my people on the ground like too bad Hopin’ this song is a bullet I’m trying to shoot back Empty out the chamber change the balance give the youth gas Let a pseudo-ally know to take a step or two back And call the problem white supremacy because we know that one bad cop is a problem but one bad cop is not the problem one bad department’s a problem but one bad department is not the problem one bad politician is a problem but one bad politician is not the problem so many names that will never be forgotten cameraphone’s up stay watchin’ the watchmen, yo
7.
(Lucien Parker) There’s a lot of venom in the world of snakes There’s a lot of snakes in a room of hate There’s a lot of bodies in the pavement There’s a lot of people gettin’ caged in There’s a lot of boys from the hood, you know, boyz in the hood I ain’t live there but my boys from the hood And we make it either way; we got philosophies for life Got a movement and passion for the stage and holdin’ mics Those my heroes right there, my people right there Swingin’ back when they know the world won’t fight fair My heroes right there yeah my n****s from the lows Made a future for themselves killin’ rhymes writin’ flows Be anything that you want to be Though the cops still out tryin’ to hunt for me Still sittin’ carefree, hangin’ in the trees They won’t get me by the neck at a thousand feet We just way up (Guante) what’s a hundred grand to a dead man? what’s a diamond to a corpse? every car in my entourage has a casket in the back how about yours? how about force feedin’ you every quarter that you owe us all american, you’re arrogant and forced to take a bonus like that’s “just how the system works, kid” but you can’t slap a system and you’re sittin’ right here cursin’ it’s so imperfect, so unfair I know, I know, I know: “not all millionaires” right? not all men, not all white folks repeatin’ it as you’re leavin’ in the last life boat the titanic was too big to fail too so your driver, your cook, that kid in the mail room shout to every iceberg sweatin’ it’s a threat and it’s a promise the atlantic in my pocket and it’s cold I don’t condone violence but what I do and don’t condone doesn’t matter, ‘cause I hold no control over the overflow, over the open road leadin’ up to rome, vandals with me, tryin’ to go for broke ‘cause going for rich, corrodes your soul slow and all of my heroes were broke, but never broken .why the hell do we glorify wealth when every fortune is made on the pain of someone else? who’s that on my evening newscast frontin’ like the noose ain’t connected to the bootstraps You pull up the latter, they pull up the former present a counternarrative the judge calls for order present a counternarrative and fail the assignment present a counternarrative the police shoot present a counternarrative it’s not american although the counternarrative’s the only narrative that’s true america the beautiful a golden parachute a golden coffin at your funeral a golden boy a golden destiny second to none But it ain’t me, It ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son it ain’t me, it ain’t me, my inherited wealth is just a story and a song, a message, a fight so when you ask what the name on my ballot is i’m votin’ for donald trump...’s head on a pike rich man tryin’ to buy his way to heaven with a head start cruisin’ but losin’ the momentum if it’s class war they want, we’ll bring ‘em armageddon solidarity drippin’ from our lips like venom
8.
Quicksand 04:18
Upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, waist-deep in quicksand, I need a second to process. After all, this is fiction made flesh; it’s like going to the zoo and seeing a mermaid. So my first response, naturally, is to tell him: Hey, um, I’m pretty sure that I read somewhere that quicksand isn’t actually dangerous, that this idea of a patch of sandy water sucking a person down into oblivion is just a tall tale, a trope to build tension in early 1960s westerns. In real life, yeah, I mean, you can get caught in quicksand, but it’s not really that hard to get out. So are you sure you’re sinking in quicksand? He sinks. My words don’t seem to have any effect. So being an open-minded, progressive individual, I reevaluate. Maybe quicksand is real. So what now? My second response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, chest deep in quicksand is, before I actually do anything, to make sure that I have the whole picture. I mean, what was this guy doing out here in the jungle all alone? Did he step into that quicksand on purpose? Was he asking for it? Does he have a criminal record? Maybe I should wait until all the facts come in. He sinks. And again, being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. I want to help So my third response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, neck deep in quicksand is to, obviously, recite a poem. To throw some spirit energy his way. To describe, out loud, just how heavy my heart is. I take a piece of paper out of my backpack, and with a pen, I write “quicksand is bad and I am an ally to people who fall in it.” I pin that piece of paper to my chest. I take out my phone and I tweet “when are we going to wake up? #quicksand.” He sinks. And being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide that this isn’t enough, that we, as a society, need to address the root causes of people sinking in quicksand. So my fourth response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, forehead-deep in quicksand, is to take a moment and really acknowledge and think about my privilege as someone who is not sinking in quicksand. I vow to take a class, to challenge my friends when they make quicksand-related jokes, to be more mindful of how I navigate the world. He sinks. And being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide that the time for words has passed; now is the time for action. So my fifth response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, disappeared into quicksand, is… is… We can’t allow ourselves to forget what happened here. I know we need to do something, to put up a sign, to educate people, to build a bridge over this patch of quicksand. I just don’t have any wood. I just have this backpack full of paper and pens and rope; what can one person do? 
I imagine my lungs filling with mud. Black earth. Brown water. The hike back to my hotel will be full of reflection. I say a prayer under my breath. It’s the least I can do.
9.
(SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE) Look: we gotta have a conversation, talk it out When it’s time for visibility gotta get out the house And when it’s time to make a move we gotta walk it out When the people at the top talk slop we pull the bottom out What are you all about? Go ‘head and shout it out See something, say something, go ahead and call it out Before we didn’t know we weren’t alone we’re all around If you believe the time is now, take a solemn vow Learn, support, share, report Build rapport, educate the poor Voice can be directed flow like traffic signs from out the mouth Toxins fallin’ out from back of truck you gotta stop reroute Can’t push it forward give it gas and send it on the town Holla loud what’s not allowed by concert crowds get on ‘em now Learn, teach, build, connect Challenge, question, think, dissent Once you see it doesn’t have to see You’re either givin’ into apathy Or livin’ in a fantasy You go ahead now… (Guante): and we ask ourselves: whose voices are valued we ask ourselves- whose perspectives are accepted we ask ourselves- who is given the benefit of the doubt in a country where your money’s the measurement of your clout and your skin color and gender identity are policed often by the actual police! we ask ourselves is there a sentence that’s suitable when this prison culture itself is so cruel and unusual not to mention ineffective not to mention racist homophobic transphobic and sexist not to mention whatever I forgot to mention the new dimensions to the system they don’t wanna mention so let’s mention it let’s make noise it’s a family reunion in the union of our voices and if you didn’t know this family’s loud so let’s bring every wall on this planet down, and go ahead now Once you see it doesn’t have to see You’re either givin’ into apathy Or livin’ in a fantasy You go ahead now… (Guante): I’m not racist but… is usually how racist people start sayin’ racist stuff and self-proclaimed allies get side-eyed ‘cause the same idea still relates to us and look: I got no advice to give no wisdom to share, no answers to be laid bare just my experience, my fear and perseverance all my insecurities and every value I believe in like, whether poison berries, wildflowers or crops everyone plants seeds whether they know it or not so I’m just tryin’ to look out at my garden and be more intentional about the life I wanna harvest and as always, that is not enough it’s a start, but a match in the dark is not the sun and tears of guilt, tears of realization, either way they are no substitute for rain you don’t beat racism by bein’ a better person you beat it by destroyin’ the system that undergirds it this decision to see past the surface is not the last step it’s the first it’s a trade of all my good intentions for a patch of wet earth ‘cause it always comes down to the work and maybe we are all lost, all imperfect and unworthy but we can all get our hands dirty ...so go ahead now

about

Guante is an MC, two-time National Poetry Slam champion, activist and educator. His work has been featured on Upworthy, Welcome to Night Vale, Everyday Feminism and beyond, and he's performed everywhere from the United Nations to the Soundset Festival to hundreds of schools, clubs, and theaters across the country. Katrah-Quey is a prolific and adventurous producer who has worked with artists like M.anifest, Toki Wright, K.Raydio, and others.

Together, they've created a Hip Hop album about race, racism, and solidarity, featuring multiple voices and perspectives, all attempting to have a deeper, more nuanced, more critical dialogue than we generally get to have about those issues. Over Katrah-Quey's lush, vibrant production, Guante and guests reach for root causes, explore their own complicities in the system, and strive to imagine--and build-- a better world.

More info plus video here: www.guante.info/2016/03/guante-katrah-quey-post-post-race.html

credits

released March 7, 2016

Music by Katrah-Quey
Vocals by Guante (except where noted)
Recorded by Graham O'Brien, Lance Conrad
Mixed by Katrah-Quey
Additional Mixing by Graham O'Brien, Evan Bakke
Mastered by Huntley Miller
Web: www.guante.info, www.katrah-quey.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/elguante, www.twitter.com/@kqbeats

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Guante Minneapolis, Minnesota

a love song, a death rattle, a battle cry.

contact / help

Contact Guante

Streaming and
Download help

Report this album or account

Guante recommends:

If you like Post-Post-Race, you may also like: