Farai Saves Detroit!

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

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I am starting my career as a futurist with the same things most futurists have: a little knowledge, and a lot of cojones. But before I get to my Detroit plan to save Detroit (which could work! Really!), let me back it up to how I got to the story that got me all fired up.

I’m a voracious consumer of information, not always from the same source. I got into a beef once with a colleague over whether or not I read the New York Times every day. (I don’t.) I think it’s better to have a mixed media diet than to eat all of one food group.

I also tend to rotate what I pay attention to. For a few days I am all about the cable news. Then I switch to the Wall Street Journal, which I admit is a fave of mine. Then I go to blogs, then hip hop magazines. Then the Washington Post. Then the Times. Did I mention the BBC, the subtitled Asian broadcast services, and what I can hack together from watch Las Noticias on the many Spanish language TV stations in LaLaLand? It makes more sense to how my brain works at this point in time to concentrate on one thing for a while than trying to absorb only a little of each of them each day. It also allows me to immerse myself in how one publication structures a worldview, and then another. It’s different from how I operated in the past, but satisfying…. more like reading a book than a magazine article.
One of my semi-guilty pleasures in media right now is all of these crazy multimedia slideshows that Forbes online does. My favorite at the moment is “America’s Emptiest Cities. One of them happens to be Detroit, which also happens to be where I am at the moment. Wayne State University let me give a lecture on the power of hip hop iconography and of the millennial generation in creating the Age of Obama. It all sounds really overweening but I started with a YouTube remix of JayZ and Obama and ended with me doing the first few bars of Rapper’s Delight. (The latter part was in response to a question about Michael Eric Dyson. If I rhymed as much as he did I would own a vacation home.)

Props to my hosts at Wayne State and the wonderful Millender family for bringing me here.
Yet more props for Detroit, a city that has without fail supported NPR’s News and Notes.
Let’s take a closer look at Detroit, the Chocolate City of the Midwest.
Forbes‘ story notes:

The situation in places like Las Vegas is bad enough, but Detroit’s problems run much deeper. Though its vacancy rates are marginally better than Sin City’s, Motown has been on the empty side for decades. An industrial boomtown during the first half of the 20th century, Detroit’s population swelled from 285,000 in 1900 to 990,000 in 1920, reaching a peak of 1.8 million in 1950.

But starting in the 1960s, Detroit began a precipitous decline. Detroit’s population is now 900,000–half what it was in the middle of the century–and many of its neighborhoods languish in varying states of decay. Most scholars blame rapid suburbanization, outsourcing of manufacturing jobs, and federal programs they say exacerbated the situation by creating a culture of joblessness and dependency.

Yet after more than half a century, countless scholars, politicians, community organizers developers and nonprofit workers have been unable to come up with a solution to fix Detroit.

Let me throw my hat into the ring. My suggestion is to make Detroit an arts hub by grabbing film location money and creating micro-artist colonies in the city. Say “whaaaaa?” Say: parts of it are being done successfully elsewhere… Check it:

First, there’s what’s being called the “Ugly Betty Tax Credit.” California lost production of the hit show “Ugly Betty” to New York City because New York offers a 35% tax credit to people shooting on location. Now Cali, which has seen its share of the media pie fall to cities from Baltimore (”The Wire”) to Toronto (Oliver Stone’s movie on 9/11… what? Shame), wants back more of the action. It’s debating giving a 25% tax credit to location shooters.

Detroit has great architecture, including a waterfront view of Canada; great Motown-era theatres; and a variety of housing. How about making it a big movie set? Offer a ridiculous tax credit–say 75%. Offer a fire sale like the depreciation of value. Create mixed-use backlots: movie sets that can be used by productions from different studios for rental fees.

Create selective tax-credit-ready residential neighborhoods that can take in the people who live off of a film industry… the makeup artists, the folks who do puzzling jobs in the credits, like “gaffer” and “best boy.”, etc. Put those residential tax cuts in geographically restricted areas so they can build a critical mass of people who once again make them thriving neighborhoods.

Yet another upshot is that if you live in an area where people in the film industry cluster, you’ll be more able to exchange information about jobs and work–or to plan your own productions. And that’s where things get fabulous: the synergy of entrepreneurs coming together.

Take this radical-tax-cut model and the similarly targeted residential cuts and replicate in multiple industries. Put phase-out timetables on the tax cuts and hope that once people put down roots, they will build companies and institutions that can stay operational.

In the meantime, neighborhoods that would be vacant will be occupied, which will cut down on crime. Consider turning a number of abandoned buildings into neighborhood gardens or pocket gardens a la New York City. Take a cue from MacArthur “Genius Award” winner (and former NBA player) Will Allen and pioneer ways of doing urban farming.

Urban farming can help re-build a system of healthy and mindful eating as well as local enterprise. And it’s not a bad thing to wake up, cross the street, open a gate, and suck in the sweet smell of ripening strawberries. It’d lower folks’ grocery costs and probably their blood pressure.

Pie in the sky? Maybe. But if you read paper and take a long look ahead, rebuilding a city like Detroit may require radical solutions that mix smart finance with lush green.


Letter from Farai: 40 at the Rave

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

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It was about the time that the guy carrying the giant bunny head under his head walked by that I took full stock of the crowd: a bunch of leaping, costumed or festooned,

Bunny-head man and I were both at a Valentine’s night event thrown by Lucent Dossier, one of the many Burning Man-inspired crews that throw massive arts/music/theatre mashups. These guys have a base near the Toy Factory lofts, a hipster outpost in a truly industrial neighborhood with sightlines toward downtown.

They’d blocked off two city blocks and put up three DJ stages–full on, massive soundystem stages–one of which doubled as a stage for their Cirque Du Soleil-style circus acrobatics. It was a California Cold night, which is to say it was somewhere around fifty degrees. Folks acted like it was the arctic and dressed appropriately.

Most of them were in what we call “Playa Gear,” big colorful fuzzy coats over skimpy or outrageous outfits. Bunny-head avoided the need for additional clothing by wearing a full costume, which I’m sure was boiling inside, thus the need to remove the head. He reminded me of that character Frank in the movie Donnie Darko. I was dressed down for the crowd, in a sari-fabric tunic that was very Slumdog Millionaire meets Lt. Uhura.

What about race? (It’s an inevitable question I ask myself and that other folks ask me.) Well, I saw more black folks at an event like this than I have ever seen before. I’m not talking “Wattstax” levels, but significant. One of the headliners was DJ Marques Wyatt, who I gave a big hug before his DJ set of Detroit-style house-meets-electronica. Big props to Z-Trip, who was one of the pioneers of the modern mashup and put on a great set despite some audio problems. I went with a friend who used to DJ (and I hope will again some day) and she had a big fat smile on her face.

The thing that really stuck with me was that we were old. I didn’t see that many people I would peg as twentysomethings; and I saw plenty of people over 50. Most of us were in our 30s and 40s.

In other words, people who plugged into tech culture, DJ culture, or Burning Man culture… or a mix of all that plus circuses, Steampunk, whatever…. are growing older as a cohort. Instead of this scene being Logans Run-esque, it remains age-inclusive. That makes me happy. I can only imagine mortifying my children (as yet unborn) by rocking, say, a floor length velvet cape over a long dress and platform boots when I’m sixty.

Of course my mind turned to the question of what we are missing, all of us growing older together. A friend from the Midwest said her friend and family were worried when she and her husband didn’t have kids by 30. With one exception, all my friends were in their mid thirties before they had kids. Some were in their forties.

I am nearing forty and still hope to have children, but I wonder if my work hard/play hard lifestyle has been a mask for other desires. Many women I know take Beyonce’s call for independence to new levels (traveling alone internationally, for example, and not in particularly safe places either). I know I kept hoping for the day that everything would just “settle down”… and I would too. Now, at least I realize that you are the one who settles down and things settle around you.

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As I write, listening to: Caetano Veloso

Amuse Bouche: Fatal Attraction Much?

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

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Look. We all bow down to Obama. He’s THE MAN right now. The big enchilada. The head honcho. Numero uno. A kick-ass politician with a bold, bad-ass plan to get this country back on track. He’s the ultimate Daddy Mac.

We. Get. It.

But there’s getting it, and then there’s killing it—which is exactly what a supporter at last week’s town hall meeting in Florida did. She was never singled out to have a moment with the mic, but she stood up anyway and let the creepiness creep on out.

There’s a fine line between sincerity and psychosis.  Watch this chick skip over to the other side with three short words and a long, uncomfortable stare. As they say—it’s the quiet ones we need to worry about…

Music News You Can Use: Ozzfest Canceled, Jacko’s Garage Sale

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

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Ozzy holds Ozzfest … It looks like this year will not be blessed (or cursed) with an Ozzfest, as the big man himself, Ozzy Osbourne, has decided to spend the time working on his upcoming album instead. Though the fest has lasted for the last 12 years, a statement was released saying that the cancellation is only temporary and the fest will return in 2010. The untitled album will be produced by Kevin Churko and is slated for a Thanksgiving 2009 release

Who wants rhinestone-trimmed socks? … Someone is sure to find them worthy, as it is one of Michael Jackson’s items up for grabs in a five-day auction beginning April 21. The king of pop has decided to let go of over 2,000 of his personal items, including his American Music Award for “Thriller,” a basketball signed by Michael Jordan, a customized Harley Davidson, and even his own original artwork. Dibs on the socks!

She’s back, and better than ever … After suffering the tragic loss of her mother, brother, and nephew in a triple homicide last fall, Jennifer Hudson has announced that she is back at work and ready to tour this spring. Teaming with hottie pop-soul sensation Robin Thicke, Hudson will be kicking off her tour in Albany, NY March 31, and will end the month-long gig in Houston, TX on May 8.

Luda says sorry … Ludacris made amends to Senator John McCain and his wife Cindy at the All-Star Game Sunday, apologizing for any offense taken by the lyrics in his song “Politics (Obama Is Here).” The song takes a sharp turn in one line where Luda says, “McCain don’t belong in any chair unless he’s paralyzed.” The senator appeared to have accepted the rapper’s apology, as they reportedly “spoke pleasantly for several minutes” afterward. My bet is Johnny boy didn’t know what Luda was referring to, that is, until a quick Google search after the game.

Lost: Yeah, We’re Back!

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

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And so it begins. Again.

Episode six not only felt like starting over, it also felt like the season finally, and in some ways literally, got off the ground. Yes, it opens with the now-iconic scene of Jack’s eye opening, and we pan out to see he’s lying in a jungly pile of green.

Yeah, we’re back.

After much impatience on our end, not to mention that of Ben and (in spirit) Locke, our favorite, core characters officially get back to where they once belonged.

In episode six, there was so much to sink one’s teeth into, it’s almost miraculous they were able to pack it all in. Where do we begin? Well, at the beginning of the end of the Oceanic Six’s off-island getaway (minus Aaron; we’ll get to that in a second).

The show had something for everyone: hot romance (how about that Kate and Jack kiss? Dayam!), reveals about Locke’s death, meaningful numbers, geography, mad scientist equations, WTF moments, unanswered questions, tears (OMG, that suicide note from Locke to Jack was a rough one), and even some laughter.  But one overarching theme was present throughout: are they effing nuts to want to go back? And it was a theme the Lost powers-that-be addressed with effective grace.

In a not-so-subtle reference to these characters’ willingness to blithely ignore life-threating warning signs, the clan follows church lady Eloise through a door marked “Caution, Do Not Enter, High Voltage.”  They arrive at a subterranean, vast room dominated by a giant pendulum swinging over a map of the world. It is surrounded by chalkboards covered in a scrawled snarl of calculus, geometry, algebra and scientific jibber jabber. And it’s here that we get one of the episode’s two true laughs:

JACK (to Ben): Did you know about this place?
BEN: No, I did not.
JACK (to Eloise): Is he lying?
ELOISE: Probably.

Thus begins Eloise’s rapid-fire enumeration of explications, numbers, charts and graphs. The whole thing strained my pause-button finger almost to paralysis. The Lost creators seem to cater to the obsessives; they know we’re going to rewind, pause, watch and rewind again. They know we avid watchers are looking for hidden clues and Easter eggs, and they love toying with us. Cut it out!

The sum of Eloise’s convoluted monologue that we learn how the troupe is going to return: yep, it’s another plane. Flight 316 from Los Angeles to Guam.

Now. I know Lost has never been predicated on believability. It’s science fiction of the highest order. But, miraculously, the show always manages to address our reluctance to suspend disbelief on an almost-psychic level.

Example: just as we’re all like “No way would crash survivors ever get on an airplane that’s bound to go down before reaching its destination,” the show speaks to us. Eloise says to Jack (and, by proxy, us): “Stop thinking about how ridiculous it is and start asking yourself whether or not you believe it’s going to work. That’s why it’s called a leap of faith, Jack.”

And if Eloise weren’t persuasive enough, it’s Ben who manages to win over Jack with a story of Thomas the Apostle. It boils essentially down to: seeing is believing, and soon you will see. Soon you will believe. So let’s get going already.

And wouldn’t you know it, they do. But not before tying up a few loose ends: Kate (mysteriously) rids herself of Aaron, Jack and Kate have that much-anticipated deep-throat kiss, Jack makes his peace with Locke (kind of), Hurley is sprung from lockup and Sayid (now a convicted criminal) is police-escorted onto the plane, Kate-style.

Another loose end is tied up once they’re on the plane: how in the heck are they going to end up on the Island? Enter pilot Frank J. Lapidus. Serendipity strikes again.

And almost as quickly as these are tied up, we get another “huh?” element added to the mix. Once Kate, Hurley and Jack are reunited on the Island, they are greeted by that unforgettable blue Volkswagen Bus. The driver emerges, gun pointed at them: Jin, decked out in Dharma Initiative gear.

Boom.

Up next: is John Locke really dead or what? Details at 9 PM Eastern, next Wednesday.