From Mute To Blown Out Speakers: The Origins of “A Broken Record”
I remember a time when I was mute.
A time when the talents I had were silenced and the words I so desperately wanted to say to the public were drowned out by the sounds of bigots and bullies, more concerned with keeping the status quo than an individual thought.
In times that I felt unheard, where unspoken thoughts bore too much pain and ridicule to express, I would find solace in a universal language. One that everyone could understand…
Music.
Whether it was singing in the church, where sounds of gospel rang throughout the city, playing smooth jazz on the saxophone, or listening to legendary artists like Nina Simone or the Temptations, music was always there.
Hearing these legendary African American artists perform their talents and use music to uplift their culture in a time when all society wanted to do was destroy it always inspired me. I had dreamed of summoning the courage to speak up for myself and others like they did.
Growing up with a lisp made everyday communications with friends and family a challenge. To say that it always felt like I was misunderstood and ignored by the world around me was an understatement. But where my speech failed to communicate, music was where I made my points across. Essentially music was the one thing in this life I knew how to communicate effectively.
I still remember the very first time I realized that I could sing.
I couldn’t have been more than 5 years old. My mother was playing, “I’ll Be There,” by the Jackson 5 on the car ride home. Due to my lisp, I never really had the desire to speak, as I didn’t think people could understand me anyway, including her. Yet I always had a fondness for this specific song. I would always hum it on the car rides home, carefully listening to the lyrics to make sure that If I did ever sing it, I would sing it just right.
For some reason, I felt that this specific car ride was a perfect time. So I started singing…
“You and I must make a pact. We must bring salvation back. Where there is love, I’ll be there.”
When I finished the song, my mom looked at me with a face of genuine astonishment. She had never heard my voice sound so clear and so confident. I was young then, but the experience always resonated with me.
From that point on, whenever there was a time when my voice was drowned out by those too hate-filled to listen, I would use my music as a way to break through to them.
Music not only for me but the Black community as well has been a tool used to convey thoughts, feelings, and emotions when speeches could not. It was how we celebrated, how we grieved, and how we protested for justice in our communities.
Yet, even though I had found my voice through music, I still saw that my community of fellow Black musicians were still being silenced, despite using their music to communicate.
I wondered why this injustice occurred. I wondered why all these wonderful artists were still having their voices silenced and their words muted by the indifference of others.
I researched, I traveled, I listened, and ultimately I learned.
“A Broken Record,” was my answer.
It is my first documentary. It explores the censorship, appropriation, and overall treatment of Black musicians in our society.
By exploring the traces of Black artists in the roots of music history with local Colorado artists and educators such as University of Denver Professor Roger Holland, Singers Kid Astronaut & Json Martin, and national saxophonist and radio host Tony Exum Jr., I get their perspectives on the state of Black Music as well as the history of its themes and mistreatment.
In this award-winning film, I directed a crew with camera, lighting, and sound in order to create a film that I hope will contribute to the long-needed discussion about giving Black artists the recognition they deserve.
Ultimately, my love for music took me a long way. I went from a shy kid with a lisp who was too afraid to speak out of fear of being ignored, to a musician, journalist, and award-winning filmmaker who will continue to use the power of music to uplift others.
I don’t ever want to feel like my voice has been muted. I’ll scream as loud as I have to through concert speakers to make sure my voice and the ideals that come with it are heard by everyone.
I know what it is like to be voiceless, and I will work hard to make sure no one ever has to live with that feeling again.
