aveblas

[aveblas]

Connectivity Through Freedom

The room is dark, only filled by the light of the stage-- it's illuminating the people around you, but not enough to see them, only to know they are there. Everyone there screams of authentic expression. Styling themselves in whatever way feels like them, moving in whatever way they please, enjoying and feeling the music. In a space surrounded by people, yet free of the judgements that often come with that experience. Everyone is there for different reasons-- whether its a space that allows for authentic expression, music that gives a person life, or just enjoying the presence of others in a space where social expectations are nonexistent. Whatever reason they came, whatever they do in their daily life means nothing here. All are just here to enjoy a moment of release, free from whatever came before it. Who they are expected to be in their families, jobs, relationships and life means nothing here. There is no expectation. And to be free from this expectation means to be free, if only for just a moment.

Thats what I love about these spaces. No one cares who you are, just that you enjoy the moment with friends and strangers. It's a space that's free from perception. I could hit the most diabolical, funky and ugly dance moves and not a soul would bat an eye. My brother is a DJ, so I often go to his shows and there are frequent mosh pits. It's really a feeling like no other. You feel connected to the people around you-- not by your words, the way you look, your profession or whatever else. You may be entirely different than the person next to you, but all there is now is a connection through music, a connection through this freedom. At his shows, I've literally seen people in furry masks and in business suits occupy the same space. No one cares. This lack of care is a rupture. It's a breaking down of the walls that typically divide us-- felt collectively by the crowd. It breaks the expectations that typically stop us from living authentically, individually. In this space, for me, this happens in the form of movement. I can allow my body to feel the music, and move however it pleases. It's ecstasy in its disconnect from the self. The self that has to speak a certain way, dress a certain way, operate the world in a way thats acceptable to the people around you. It's a connection to the self that only lives within you, freeing you from the self that is carefully catered to be perceived by the people around you. 

This is so powerful because it reminds us that we are more than what we perform for others. Everyone walks through life bound by rules. We wear masks to work, to family gatherings, even to friendships. But in these moments-- in the chaos of a mosh pit those masks don't just fall away, but even feel like they never existed. We’re reminded that freedom can be found, and is universally desired. No matter how different or divided we are, we are connected in that piece of our humanity. That kind of release is rare. In a world that often feels like it demands we be palatable, productive, and predictable, these spaces give us permission to just be. And that permission? That fleeting moment of truth? That’s everything.

[aveblas]

Filmed in Fairmont, Philadelphia. This video celebrates black community, joy, and love.

[aveblas]

Black Joy: Resistance in the City of Brotherly love

I chose Philadelphia as my city. Hip-hop emerged in the late 70's and early 80's in the city. At the time, it was a wounded city due to deindustrialization. What was once a city known for its manufacturing in various things such as textiles, was now a city plagued by torn down factories, segregation policies such as redlining, and economic struggles. People were losing their jobs, and the white flight as a result left working-class black Americans behind. This was about the time Hip-hop music would find itself in Philly, representing a kind of black joy in spite of the conditions seeking to keep black spirit not only out of the mainstream, but out of the city. 

Lady B - "To the Beat, Y'all" (1979)

You really can't talk about Philadelphia's hip hop scene, without talking about Lady B's "To the Beat, Y'all". This record came out in 1979, shortly after the emergence of the rap genre in the bronx. This would be the first every Hip Hop record from Philadelphia to be put on a vinyl record. Her identity in it of itself was a form of resistance. She was the first ever woman to record a solo rap record, and this record went gold. Not only was she the first of her kind with her success, but doing that while operating in a male-dominated space showed her determination to continue to grow the space. She would eventually begin an internship at a radio station in Philly, and pushed hard for rap music to be given a platform, which would lead to its explosion in Philadelphia in the late 80's. Many credit her to bringing the newly emerging genre to Philadelphia. The track itself is funky, upbeat, and fun. It screams of authenticity, and the power of confidence in a world attempting to silence black voices, and sitting in the joy of black culture. It doesn't define itself by the struggle and context of the city, but by the power, confidence, connectedness and joy of the black community as a response to these conditions.

https://youtu.be/cmTssM-tAuw?si=Qw0IRuqK-0ShVnTfLinks to an external site.

MC Breeze - “DiscombobulatorBubalator” (1987)

MC Breeze’s “DiscombobulatorBubalator” embodies a another side of Philadelphia’s hip-hop innovation: lyrical experimentation and breaking boundaries of rhythm. The track’s has a fast-paced, rapid-fire flow, playful wordplay, and minimalist, industrial-sounding production capture a city in transition. The clanging, metallic beats echo Philly’s post-industrial soundscape, reflecting the decay of factories and the transformation of urban space. Yet MC Breeze’s inventive style is not constrained by harsh realities—it is a creative rebellion, inventing new rhythms and language amid the economic and social breakdown. The songs relatively simple track allows his lyricism and creative expression with his voice. Its a freestyle-- and in this has an aura of freedom. He changes up his voice, uses adlibs, even just screams. It's fun, creative, expressive and fits perfectly into the theme of black joy as a symbol of resistance-- it as a bold example of how Philadelphia’s youth used hip-hop to reimagine identity and possibility.

https://youtu.be/nlKlLWf8qz4?si=1wv32AO8ofSA3-fsLinks to an external site.

DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince – "Summertime" (1991)

Released in the early '90s, “Summertime” is a straight love letter to Black Philadelphia in its most joyful form. DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince (Will Smith) capture block parties, cookouts, basketball games, and riding through West Philly with the windows down. The track is smooth, nostalgic, and chill—but it’s also deeply political in what it chooses to center.Into the early ‘90s, Philly was still grappling with the effects of deindustralization, including underfunded schools, police violence, and mass incarceration. The track’s upbeat tone creates an aura of optimism for black youth. “Summertime” offered a vision of Black leisure and peace. The song slows down time, celebrates family and friendship, and refuses to let negative headlines define the culture. It's not escapism—joy is a form of resistance. Its a display and a celebration of the community ties of black people living in Philly, and the value and power of that in well-being. What better way to describe the song than its last line; "There's an air of love and of happiness And this is the Fresh Prince's new definition of summer madness". 

https://youtu.be/Kr0tTbTbmVA?si=9ES_1hx6RAXsKzWPLinks to an external site.

[aveblas]

A Connection Through Authenticity

Whitney Houston’s performance of the National Anthem at Super Bowl XXV in 1991 is one of the most celebrated renditions in American history—and for good reason. It's something you absolutely can't look away from-- whether in 1991 or 2025, you can feel her performance. Delivered during a broken America, her version radiates that grief and at the same time strength. From the first note, there’s a sense that she’s not just singing a song, but carrying the soul of a nation. Her voice is effortless, it turns the anthem into something transcendent—both deeply personal and universally moving. The choice to slow down the tempo really lets the audience experience this feelings together and sit in them-- and gives Houston the leeway to make the song hers. This performance is just so universally felt-- thats what I love about it the most. Anyone who turns on this rendition, no matter who you are, is going to feel it-- feel the chills all over, the power of her words, the power of her voice.

Her vocal delivery transforms the song from a formality into an emotionally resonant moment. The slight improvisations in melody and timing—subtle shifts made within the original structure show her emotional precision. This is soul-- taking something fixed and giving it life and humanity. Whitney’s performance makes the abstract ideals in the anthem tangible.  You can feel the tension between grief and strength in the way she holds a note, or gently releases a phrase. Her voice carries this collective longing for unity during a fractured time, turning the anthem into a lived emotional experience. Now I'm no nationalist, and make an active effort to reject nationalists ideas and values in my life. But damn-- you can't help but feel the song. Her body is almost still during her the performance with no grand gestures-- her jaw-dropping voice does all of the talking. Her stillness almost becomes a kind of power, allowing this full focus to rest on her vocal expression. Dressed in a simple white tracksuit, she doesn't present herself as a star, but as one of the people. This physical choice connects her to the everyday American. It's reinforcing a sense of collective identity and shared experience. She screams of authenticity-- her hair natural, wearing a casual, loose fitting outfit, just simply singing. Her voice, however, is where the soul of the anthem lives. The way she stretches certain words—“free,” “brave”—without overpowering them, allows the anthem’s core themes of hope and resilience to become not simply just heard. While belting these words, they carry their feeling in the air, all the while Houston is outstretched, palms toward the sky, almost as if she's feeling the power of her own voice. Now I'm no nationalist by any means, but I couldn't help but feel this moment due to her performance. 

Existentially, Whitney’s performance speaks to the human longing for meaning and unity during uncertain times. This search is something so personal to me as well. I'd consider myself an existentialist, and this search for unity in a time of division is something I yearn for. A reconnection to the humanness that allows us all to connect with each other. For someone who doesn't think life has an inherent purpose, the connection to the people around us is all we have for life's meaning. This is why I love the universality of her performance. It connects all of us together just by giving us all this same feeling-- a metaphorical string that binds all of our humanity. The performance feels authentic, not forced or overly polished, even though it’s technically perfect. In this, it also embodies the existential ideal of authentic presence—a voice grounded in selfhood, singing not just for a country, but as an individual apart of that, with us in that struggle. In that moment, she became a vessel of this shared hope, shared humanity,  while also channeling a national identity through soul.

[aveblas]

Jazz is Dead and Alive

"Jazz is dead" is a slogan that serves as a symbol for social death-- its a world where Jazz and black creativity are not valued, but commercialized. Its erasing the black creativity, expression, freedom, and tool against a white social world to further suffocate blackness, utilizing this expression by molding it into a box that serves whiteness. Then, if/when it doesn't fit this box, its abandoned. This is the action that perpetuates social death-- taking a black created thing, stripping it of its essence, and rewriting its function in society. This is where the belief that "Jazz is dead" aligns with Afropessimissm- the idea that social death is indefinite for suffering people. this negation of blackness in the social world is directly reflected by the belief that Jazz is dead-- it shows the process of taking black expression out of society by either molding it or ignoring it all together. With Black optimism, the history of Jazz with continually pushing the bounds from bepop, which pushed the bounds of the box while still operating within it, then to free jazz, which threw away the box altogether, could be seen as evidence. It displays this refusal to be commodified into white capitalism, this refusal to be controlled, and a commitment to the purpose of jazz-- to continually respond to this social erasure through free expression, continually moving away from a jazz that white people continue to try and define. 

Duke Ellington and his Orchestra, 1920's

In this light, the claim that "jazz is dead" becomes both a eulogy and a declaration of resistance. It represents a dual position of blackness-- a perpetual state of social death and social defiance. Jazz may be dismissed by the mainstream, but in its continual evolution—its refusal to be boxed in, bought out, or silenced—it enacts the very resilience, the fight, that Black optimism speaks of. Like the characters in Dumas’s Will the Circle Be Unbroken, Free jazz exists in a space that white society refuses to recognize, but that does not mean it ceases to exist. Instead, it thrives in the margins, it takes erasure as motivation to innovate. Jazz is not dead—it is simply no longer fitting the mold of a world that never wanted it in its authentic, expressive state.

[aveblas]

Out of Control

I'd say some of my current struggles come from the world and some come from my own life. I'm going through a big transition, and sometimes feel overwhelmed by the different factors it presents. The people in my life, my routines, my education, and my finances have all changed and getting used to all of it at once comes with a period of uncomfortability-- outside of my control. Then, with the world, it we're in the process of entering the modern era. The online landscape has changed our society drastically, and continues to develop in ways outside of our control. The new administration making choices outside of our control. Large corporations continually harming the planet in ways that feel outside of our control. I, and i'd guess many other people, feel overwhelmed by circumstance and feel like we have no control over any of it.

Mercy Mercy Me

This song for me speaks to a longing of past ignorance, and with it innocence of life. Being young and unaware to growing up and learning of the worlds problems can make it feel like we are going through the worst of it. In this song Marvin Gaye talks about the changes going on like a worsening enviromental crisis, longing for the past before these struggles. "Where did all the Blue Skies go?" speaks to this longing for a time where the world looked brighter. But more than just the environment, it speaks to the joy of ignorance. It longs for a time where we weren't concerned about species being killed off and plastic being put in oceans. Where the sky looked brighter, the world more cheerful. This is definitely what the world can feel like while transitioning into adult hood, especially since where I grew up was pretty sheltered. Suddenly the worlds problems are my problems, and I sometimes miss the times where the world felt brighter. The upbeat track behind the lyrics in that song perfectly encapsulates that feeling of joy, but also mixes in these lower note piano keys as a reminder that these times are gone. 

Someday We'll all Be Free

This song serves as inspiration to keep your head high through a fast spinning world-- an overwhelming, rapidly changing world. This perfectly fits with my struggle because it talks about the feeling of being trapped with so many things outside of your control. But it preaches not to ruminate on this feeling, but to keep working through it and keep chasing your aspirations, "Get yourself in gear, keep your strife/ Never mind your fears/ Brighter days will soon be here". To keep out hope toward an eventual better world and life.  It challenges the ideas of afro-pessimism-- that despite the world rooting against you, theres always hope to guide through the world. And with hope, there's optimism. I love this song and message because I think we here a lot about what the struggles of the world are, but not enough about attacks those struggles and keeping up hope. The track evokes this soothing feeling of hope.

When The Battle is Over

This song is similar to the last, speaking on that overwhelming, burdening feeling of life's challenges. As the title and chorus say, life can feel like a battle you weren't mean't to win. But this song is even more pungent with its hope of joy-- affirming that we can and will get through these challenges and feel joy on the other side. These affirmations are almost chanted in the song over a fast, upbeat track that pumps you up and almost serves as a call to action to keep fighting the battle. I really like this song because it doesn't just relate to your struggles, but it gives you the confidence that you'll make it through them. This confidence is super important in naviagating a world where things we can't control are bringing us down, because it serves as motivation to continue rising above these struggles.

These song's both speak to the struggle of the state of the world, our problems and obstacles being out of our control, but in that create an aura of optimism. Things happen, things change, but there is more joy on the other side that wouldn't be felt if it hadn't been for the journey.