This year, NPR Music is celebrating Black Music Month with an array of brand new Tiny Desk concerts — both from home and from behind our beloved Desk. Together, these artists represent the past, present and future of Black music. This month of carefully curated shows is a celebration of Black artists expressing themselves in ways we've never seen before, and of the Tiny Desk's unique way of showcasing that talent. 

After taking a sip of his tea towards the end of his six-song set, 

 turns to his band and exclaims: "We lowkey breezed through this b****! That's great for two rehearsals!"

From the moment Curry and his people stepped foot into NPR headquarters to record their Tiny Desk concert, the vibes were right. With a 10-piece configuration — consisting of drums, bass, keys, guitar, horns and percussion — the rapper put on a flawless and inspired live performance of songs off his latest LP as well as some of his biggest hits, all freshly arranged for the Tiny Desk.

Over the course of a decade, Curry has released a number of albums and EPs, becoming one of the most versatile emcees in hip-hop today. His sixth studio album, 

marked a new artistic beginning for him: infusing neo-soul, jazz and traditional hip-hop influences into the album, with less "rah" and more mature introspection. Throughout this concert, you get a little bit of both.

Curry and the Cold-Blooded Soul Band open their set with "Melt Session #1," a feel-good neo-soul groove where Curry's introspective lyrics flow beautifully, taking center stage. Then kicking it up a notch, Curry performs "Walkin" and "Troubles" with an assist from DJ POSHtronaut, employing some serious bounce complimented by catchy horn lines. In the second half of his set, Curry takes us back with "DIET_." Evoking instant head-bops as bass and drums smoothly lock in, Curry charms our audience with his improvised rhymes and exuberant personality.

As Curry and the band closed out the concert going absolutely bonkers with "RICKY," I could feel how light the room had gotten as everyone in the audience fed off Curry's infectious energy fueled by distorted guitar and bass and punchy horns. "You know I killed that s***. You know I murked that s***!" Yes, Denzel Curry. Yes you did.

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Ashley Pointer

From the moment the versatile emcee arrived at the Tiny Desk, the vibes were right. Watch a six-song set from Curry and a 10-piece live band.


A closeup portrait of a man looking directly at camera

Unkle Luc

Denzel Curry: Tiny Desk Concert

Some anniversaries are hard to celebrate. How should we greet the arrival of October, a year after the stories broke initiating the reckoning that soon became known as #MeToo? Since 

 published their exposés — on Oct. 5 and Oct. 10 of last year, respectively — of Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein's long career as an alleged serial rapist, a new nationwide discussion has formed about sexual assault, abuse and harassment. Often, this ongoing reckoning feels like not a dialogue, but a war. It has upended lives — most of all, the lives of the women who've come forward with their stories for the first time. It's brought to light the horrific misogyny that some men hold within their hearts, as they have smeared their hateful words all over the Internet. At the same time, it's torn friends and families apart as part of the frightening process of dismantling fundamental ideas about what it even means to be a "man" or a "woman," about what constitutes intimacy and violation and about who deserves protection when the ground of our assumptions is slipping out from under us. The process often feels exhausting, liberating, urgent, impossible — and impossible to ignore.

In what felt like an almost unbearably cruel case of cosmic timing, the spirit of #MeToo surged again as its one-year mark coincided with the Senate Judiciary Committee's hearings around Brett Kavanaugh's nomination to the Supreme Court. Millions heard the testimony of Christine Blasey Ford that Kavanaugh described an attempt to sexually assault her when they were in high school, and we witnessed this singular women become a symbol right before our eyes – a hero and a pariah, a flag in a battle waged over mothers' fears, watered by a man's tears and obscured by the smoke of each witness's own beliefs and illusions. It has been deeply disheartening to confront, yet again, the ways in which the same culture that engendered some of our most familiar and treasured ideals — of teen romance, or masculine authority, or feminine openness — serves the power of some at the expense of others. And it has been necessary, but so painful, to hear more and more women's voices amplified, speaking about what they have endured so that those ideals can be maintained.

Anyone who calls herself a feminist knows, however, that this is just life –- the experience of going on, of even finding ways to be strong and kind and free, when the world is burning around you. (And, in your mind, might even deserve to burn.) It's something women have been talking about in songs since the dawn of popular music.

This weekend, I needed some edification within what was starting to feel like an unbearable struggle. So I did what I always do: I turned to music. I made a playlist. I called it "fed up," and started seeking out songs of women saying they'd had enough, that from this moment on things would be different. And if they couldn't be different, then 

I began at one of popular music's beginnings: the women's blues of the 1920s, in which, as Angela Y .Davis writes in her great study of the genre, "the problem of male violence is named, and varied patterns of implied or explicit criticism and resistance are woven into the artists' performance of them." Ma Rainey's "Cell Bound Blues" starkly outlines one such encounters, which lands the woman, whose resistance involves a gun, in jail. Country music's beginnings also highlight women's resistance: in "Single Girl, Married Girl," a folk song notably recorded without the presence of the family patriarch A.P. Carter, his bride Sara sings of the limits imposed by the ring on her finger. And then there's vaudeville great Sophie Tucker, totally owning the lyrics written for her by Billy Rose in "I'm Not Taking Orders for No One." Moving toward the mid-20th century, I discovered the beautifully cynical "This Will Make You Laugh," written by Irene Higginbotham — one of Tin Pan Alley's few African-American songwriters — and revisited Billie Holiday's stark declaration of independence, "God Bless the Child."

My search for women's angry or stone cold self-assertion yielded even greater results as I moved forward in time. Some songs I found were hits, like "No More Tears (Enough is Enough)," the firestorm of duet between Barbra Streisand and Donna Summer; others, like X-Ray Spex singer Poly Styrene's scream of self-definition, "Oh Bondage! Up Yours!" Then there are the forgotten gems, sometimes taking on not just individual men or even the strictures of romance, but the larger culture that continually puts women at risk. Dory Previn's amazing "Obscene Phone Call" and "Conversation With a Cop," by the all-woman band Fanny, exposed how the authorities can alternately ignore and harass women. Martina McBride's "Independence Day" and Rosanne Cash's "Rosie Strike Back" opened country fans' eyes to domestic violence. By the time we get to the 21st century, Alynda Segarra of Hurray for the Riff Raff is calling out the American songbook itself, rewriting the soul-damaging script of the murder ballad in "The Body Electric."


Some of the songs on this playlist use the language of failing romance to express the bigger need for personal agency and freedom. Others confront harassment or other ways women have been treated as less than human. Some are funny; others tap into anger so hot it's hard to listen to them. Many were written or recorded by young women finding their power in the moment. Others come from weathered voices, sharing wisdom. At four hours, I stopped compiling, but I could have kept going indefinitely, I think. What would you add? We need this soundtrack: a way of saying "no way" that's really inspiration to keep going on.


Ann Powers

Music critic Ann Powers curated a playlist of women expressing one thing: Enough is enough.


Jacquelyn Martin/AP

Spencer Platt/Getty Images

A Woman's Rage: Songs About Being Fed Up

issued its decision on Dobbs vs. Jackson Women's Health Organization on Friday

, effectively overturning the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision that codified the right to abortion, social media predictably exploded with myriad responses. 

Musicians were among those who immediately spoke up, and their reactions — overwhelmingly against the court's decision — were as creative as the beats and melodies that have made them famous. Many took to Twitter and Instagram. Others spoke up from the highly visible stages of Glastonbury 

, which became bully pulpits for people demanding respect for individuals' freedoms. A few musicians quickly penned songs in response to the rulings, or rewrote Americana chestnuts — including, in one memorable case, "the Star-Spangled Banner." Several stars and music industry groups, including Lizzo and Rage Against the Machine, pledged significant profits from upcoming tours to support abortion-rights advocacy groups. 

Here is a running list of musicians' reactions and actions:

Nisha Venkat

After Friday's Supreme Court decision, artists from around the world spent the following days sharing their reactions and plans for the immediate future.


Ben Birchall/PA Images via Getty Images

Kristin Hersh - "Hysterical Bending" (Live at Boston Rock Talk)

We Salute Jazmine Sullivan, Winner Of The Best Female R&B/Pop Award! | BET Awards '22

Sally's Pigeons (Redux 2022)

Musicians react to Supreme Court decision on right to abortion

Julian Green built and manages the music library for Carbon Sound and oversees content creation.  


Julian Green

The Hi Cotton Ball was the ultimate proof for Blu Bone’s concept of Hi Cotton. All in attendance felt the vision of Blu and his team. Those who weren’t in attendance are sure to feel the event’s reverberations throughout the Twin Cities scene. 


Derrick Gichaba

An evening with Blu Bone at the Hi Cotton Ball

The BET Awards air on Sunday night, and at least one notable person is highly unlikely to be in attendance: Lil Nas X.

, the pop star is presently incensed with the network because his name was nowhere to be found when nominations were announced earlier this month. That same day, he sent out a now-deleted tweet: "thank you bet awards. an outstanding zero nominations again. black excellence!" And for the last few weeks, the masterful social media provocateur has been trolling BET and

 "Late to Da Party," a new song that dropped on Friday and includes the repetitive chant, "F*** BET!"

I can hear the snark chiming in already: 

So ... you mean to tell me a super famous wealthy celebrity is out here complaining about not being nominated for a totally subjective award? Who even cares?

Lil Nas X's dismay has stemmed in part from the sense that his very overt queerness – still relatively rare for a pop star of his status, especially a Black male one – had something to do with the omission. In another since-deleted tweet, he wrote, "I just feel like black gay ppl have to fight to be seen in this world and even when we make it to the top mfs try to pretend we are invisible."

, in part, was that the network "love[s] Lil Nas X," and that its Voting Academy is made up of "nearly 500 entertainment professionals ... No one from BET serves as a member of the Voting Academy."

So it's crucial to note here that Lil Nas X has been nominated for two BET Awards and performed at the ceremony twice in the past; last year's ended with him sharing a passionate kiss with one of his male background dancers. He's also won two BET Hip-Hop Awards, and received two nominations at last year's ceremony. And since coming out in 2019 at the height of "Old Town Road" pandemonium, he's garnered an unprecedented and overwhelming amount of support from fans and celebrities alike.

Lil Nas X's new single, "Late To Da Party."

But! He's also faced plenty of homophobia and derision from online trolls and celebrities, too. (See, for one, rapper Boosie Badazz, who seems to have a

 with antagonizing him.) And his flamboyance has been

, who have accused him of being too "in your face" about his sexuality, especially following that BET Awards performance. His suspicions about why he was snubbed this year, after releasing a critically acclaimed and commercially successful

, haven't just appeared in a vacuum. (Meanwhile, his collaborator on "Industry Baby," the polarizing white rapper Jack Harlow, curiously scored a nod for Best Male Hip Hop Artist, and is also set to perform Sunday.)

Lil Nas X's contentions with BET speak to a paradox that's played out in high-profile fashion over the last decade: How to square the ostensible subjectivity of entertainment awards with historical biases among awards voting groups? Drake and Frank Ocean, for instance, have protested the Recording Academy and the Grammys, accusing the organization of being dismissive of Black artists. Ocean declined to submit his album 

for consideration – "[The Recording Academy] just doesn't seem to be representing very well for people who come from where I come from, and hold down what I hold down," he told the

. For this year's ceremony, Drake withdrew his two nominations for 

, piling on to a long run of criticisms he's had for the Grammys – "I'm apparently a rapper, even though 'Hotline Bling' is not a rap song," he said during

 in 2017, adding, "The only category that they can manage to fit me in is in a rap category, maybe because I've rapped in the past or because I'm Black."

Like Lil Nas X, Drake and Ocean have won awards from the same institutions they criticize, but I don't think that, or the fact that there are undoubtedly some self-serving interests at play, necessarily invalidates those arguments. Awards ceremonies 

have a lot of issues to contend with, starting with who, exactly, is doing the voting, and how. Just last year, it was announced that the Grammys would eliminate its secret nominating committees, and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has been working to diversify its membership against the backdrop of #OscarsSoWhite. The disgraced Hollywood Foreign Press Association, which presents the Golden Globes, came under intense scrutiny last year for its lack of Black membership. The industry seems to know it's got a problem.

Often the retort to accusations of bias with these awards is that perhaps the work wasn't good enough to be nominated, or win; "subjectivity" and "meritocracy" are easy ideas to get behind. But those two things are exactly that – ideas that are rarely, if ever, borne out in practice. Lobbying, expensive campaigning, and so many other factors go into putting these awards together every year, that it's impossible to suggest with a straight face that the only barriers to becoming a nominee or winner lie with the art itself. You need only recall how 

won Best Picture over, among other things, 

, people! – won Best Rap Album over Kendrick Lamar.

Back to Lil Nas X. The BET Awards are not the Grammys or the Oscars or even the Golden Globes. To the outside world, they're more like MTV's Video Music Awards, a ceremony where it's all about the fashion and the performances, and where almost no one's going to remember who won the year prior, much less who was nominated. I can't recall ever seeing an artist, movie, or show presented as a "BET Award-winner."

seem to matter to the artists and the industry itself, and for Lil Nas X, there's something about feeling rejected by his Black peers, in a predominantly white industry that has found every way to shun or dismiss them all at some point or another, that makes it particularly upsetting for him. When someone on Twitter pointed out his Grammy wins, he

, "this is my point exactly how can i get acknowledged by the most acclaimed award show in the world and then not even just 1 nomination from my own people? is that not crazy?"

OK, "most acclaimed award show" seems like a stretch, but I get his point. Awards shows are faulty metrics of talent or artistry, but they're also a part of the game. They exist to feed egos, but when you're Black and queer, that recognition – or lack thereof – just hits different.

This piece first appeared in NPR's Pop Culture Happy Hour newsletter. 

 so you don't miss the next one, plus get weekly recommendations about what's making us happy.

Aisha Harris

Lil Nas X's new single rails against BET after the star wasn't nominated for a single BET Award. 


Rich Fury/Getty Images for The Recording Academy

Lil Nas X, Youngboy Never Broke Again - Late To Da Party (F*CK BET) (Official Video)

When Lil Nas X calls out BET, it means something 

This year, NPR Music is celebrating Black Music Month with an array of brand new Tiny Desk concerts — both from home and from behind our beloved Desk. Together, these artists represent the past, present and future of Black music. This month of carefully curated shows is a celebration of Black artists expressing themselves in ways we've never seen before, and of the Tiny Desk's unique way of showcasing that talent.

It's only right to think "New Monica!" when her Tiny Desk (home) concert begins. Surrounded by candlelight, dressed in pink, 

 stands ready to deliver a vibrant vocal masterclass.  

With her rich alto, Monica broke onto the music landscape in 1995 with her debut album, 

 In her class of '90s artists, the singer brought a mature sound, yet still tempered by youth, that made her relatable to audiences of any age who were growing into their own. Monica's albums are grounded in the here and now, the ups and the downs of life and love. For fans, she feels like a longtime friend to root for, not only for her talent, but because her realness is valued — an energy she brings to this performance. 

Here Monica and her musicians strip down 2003's "So Gone," allowing a mellow, acoustic guitar to shine alongside the vocals. She shows us that when it comes to any #SoGoneChallenges, the viral challenge that had artists putting their own spin on the song, her original still reigns supreme. She also gives us a teaser of her upcoming single, the collaboration with 

 "Friends," on which Monica presents a tale of a relationship that doesn't require understanding from anyone on the outside, her soaring and acrobatic voice bending over a declaration of love. And when Monica revisits singles from her debut album, "Why I Love You So Much" and "Before You Walk Out of My Life," in her Tiny Desk (home) concert they resonate on a different, and perhaps deeper, level now. 

Mitra I. Arthur

Monica delivers a vibrant vocal masterclass in this Tiny Desk (home) concert that spans decades.


Sam Aldrich

Monica

Monica: Tiny Desk (Home) Concert

Afrobeat legend Femi Kuti’s Wednesday night show at the Cedar Cultural Center in Minneapolis was a defiant, joyous groove session.


Femi Kuti grooves and moves the Cedar Cultural Center

In the music video for her new track "Conceited," 

 gazes confidently at six perfect reflections of herself, stating the obvious as she raps the chorus: "Feeling myself / I'm conceited / Feeling myself / I'm conceited." She's surrounded by a group of Black women hyping and primping her up, and of course, she has her hair done, nails done, everything did as she continues to flex. 

The song is short and at face value has a simple premise: Flo should definitely be gassed up. She bounces off the beat with piercing claims like, "You can talk like this when you really that b****" and "I been that b**** since a fetus." But as the two-and-a-half minutes of knocking bass quickly come to a close, it begins to feel more like Flo's underlying message is a warning: "Hoes don't like when I talk like that / Please don't bark 'cause Milli bite back."

 "Conceited" feels like it puts Flo's enemies on watch that jealousy will not be tolerated. If you don't feel Flo as much as she feels herself, you can't stay around. And whether you identify more with the self love or the annihilation of enemies, this is definitely a must-add to your hype-up playlist.  

Gabby Bulgarelli

The rapper's new single has a simple premise: If you don't feel Flo as much as she feels herself, you can't stay around.


Flo Milli/RCA Records

Flo Milli - Conceited (Official Video)

Flo Milli drops new single, 'Conceited'

The Legacy Building, a brand-new Black-owned business located in South Minneapolis, had its grand opening on Friday, June 17th. Founded by Emmanuel Duncan and Sarah Lanier-Duncan of the group iLLism, The Legacy Building’s mission is to foster growth and connect the community through music.  

Emmanuel and Sarah hope the Legacy Building will create a space for artists of all kinds to create their legacy. “We built this place out of necessity,” Emmanuel responded when asked why the building was created. As artists themselves, iLLism found it hard to find the resources needed to create. Obstacles outside of music kept them from creating.  By founding the Legacy building, they hope to eliminate some of those barriers by being the provider of necessary services for anybody in the community who needs them. 

Amenities for creatives in the Legacy Building include a natural light studio, performance space, a recording studio, and a storefront.  

“We did this for our family,” Sarah said during her ribbon-cutting speech. “This building doesn’t just secure us with a space to create, but our kids and your kids as well.” It was the belief that creators are stronger when people work collaboratively that founded the Legacy Building. 

The weekend included an in-house jam session, community forum, children’s book festival, and Black movie night. The grand finale was the Soul of the Southside festival held on Juneteenth at Hook and Ladder in Minneapolis -- A free community festival showcasing local artists and businesses. 

Artists and community members in attendance on Friday shared a sense of excitement for the new possibilities the Legacy Building represents. “It’s named Legacy Building for a reason,” Sarah said. “Today, we are making history.” 

Andre Griffin will be helping elevate and amplify local music and artists on the stream and airwaves, and providing digital and physical spaces for artists and fans to engage and connect.  


Andre Griffin

The Legacy Building, a brand-new Black-owned business located in South Minneapolis, had its grand opening on Friday, June 17th.


Two people standing while posing for a picture.

Carbon Sound

iLLism build a new home for Twin Cities creatives

's voice resonate from behind the Tiny Desk for one of our first concerts back in the building had me entranced. With her voice raw and unamplified, Lenae and her dynamic band transformed our office into a funky, futuristic space where she was completely in her element. 

Hailing from Chicago, Lenae dropped her first EP, 

 in 2015. Since then, she's released two more EPs, her sound permeating the world of contemporary R&B and blurring the lines between soul, funk and R&B. This year Lenae reemerged with the release of her debut full length, 

, already shaping up to be one of the best albums of 2022. 

Her Tiny Desk concert commences with three songs off 

. Opening with "Venom," an electro-funk song that seethes, Lenae sings: "Why do you play me for a fool?" Her signature falsetto descends over spacey synth melodies while her drummer keeps an insistent, metallicy groove. Then Lenae performs perhaps the most vulnerable songs from her new album, including "Skin Tight," a melancholic guitar-led ballad that addresses a past romantic relationship and the energy that was once shared, and "Inside Out," a love letter to herself that channels a '90s R&B sound with dramatic piano harmonies, a soulful lead melody and dynamic drums. 

"I think it's a lifelong journey, learning to love yourself and trust yourself, and believe in the skin you're in," Lenae says of "Inside Out." "I wrote this song when I wasn't so sure... that's why we sing it together." With a fiercely energetic upsweep, she closes the show with her hit "Sticky." As she slides into those distinct shrilling 

, I can't help but sing along to her catchy hook — all while realizing that only Lenae can do it quite like 

The genre-melding R&B artist Ravyn Lenae brings a funky, futuristic set to the Tiny Desk.


Stories

Denzel Curry: Tiny Desk Concert

A Woman's Rage: Songs About Being Fed Up

Musicians react to Supreme Court decision on right to abortion

Get the Carbon Sound app

An evening with Blu Bone at the Hi Cotton Ball

When Lil Nas X calls out BET, it means something

Monica: Tiny Desk (Home) Concert

Femi Kuti grooves and moves the Cedar Cultural Center

Connect with Carbon Sound

Flo Milli drops new single, 'Conceited'

iLLism build a new home for Twin Cities creatives

Ravyn Lenae: Tiny Desk Concert

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