Sun on a rocket [Anyanwu nọ n'égbè]

[If you don't see a media object to play the companion mixtape, click here]

Now you see that I'm 68 inches above sea level,
93 million miles above these devils
Play me in the winter
Play me in the summer
Play me in the autumn
Any order
You want em I got em, dripping like water
Catch me at a hot spot with the dusk daughters

—Ladybug Mecca [Digable Planets] - 9th Wonder (Blackitolism)

Before I sing the rest, O sun refulgent,
       My special word to thee.

Hear me, illustrious!
       Thy lover me—for always I have loved thee,
Even as basking babe—then happy boy alone by some wood edge—thy
   touching distant beams enough,
       Or man matured, or young or old—as now to thee I launch my invocation.
(Thou canst not with thy dumbness me deceive.
       I know before the fitting man all Nature yields.
Though answering not in words, the skies, trees, hear his voice—and thou, O sun,
       As for thy throes, thy perturbations, sudden breaks and shafts of flame gigantic,
I understand them—I know those flames, those perturbations well.)

—Walt Whitman - A Summer Invocation AKA Thou Orb Aloft Full-Dazzling

Hey, it's your first Whitman sighting 'round these parts, Camerado [sic]. A decent fit for the usual dizzy tizzy of high summer, I think.

Then again, this isn't your usual bonfired-up Midsummer. The whole week before solstice was one of the rainiest, thunderstormiest I remember in all my years here on the Front Range. I mean, it felt like it came astonishingly close to a quarter portion of the raininess I remember from rainy season back home in Nigeria. No one was gathering bones for the fire, because what sort of fuel are wet bones? Then on the day itself the sun was like "ha ha!" don't think I forgot this is my high time! Refulgence city! Promptly followed the day afterward with more thunderstorms.

indeed, yes, a bonfire originally meant a fire of actual bones. The fire of wood was called the wakefire, and both were part of pagan tradition that the early Christian Church co-opted. But what weird of weepy wakemaking from wet wood and wight-wicker? Happily enough the perturbing flames of the orb came good, and Whitman whimsy was fulfilled. All boon, all bougie.

OK maybe that would roll a bit too bougie for Ladybug Mecca ("93 million miles above these devils"), but on the other hand, I have a feeling Whitman would have been sympathetic to some Five Percent Solar Type Facts. This the time of year when on steady rotation in my playlists you find "I am The Black Gold of the Sun" as well as "Fight the Power" ("Do the Right Thing" season, for real) and "Blackitolism". Word is bond; I contain multitudes.

Uri Oori

You've probably noticed over the 20 or so posts in this newsletter's life that I've been taking an inward spiral into the gravity well of contemporary AI. Oh the hell with it, I just went and pointed the rocket sunward. My formerly skeptic self continues to be astonished at what can be accomplished even with consumer-grade hardware, and there is a lot of business to be done by folks who have the deep background in data and software to help adopters of the technology maximize their investments. I'm Igbo. after all, and where there is opportunity, I won't be letting ceremony stand in the way.

I've started a consultancy specializing in AI, and Large Language Models in particular, working with a particularly close-knit crew who've accompanied me in pioneering development of AI tools and techniques based on the state of the art. Our first couple of gigs have begun on James Brown's Good Foot, and the possibilities seem almost overwhelmingly endless. Introducing Oori Data.

Oori

Expert data & software engineering for AI. Privately-hosted models.

Oori

The name comes from the iconic style of Igbo organic art associated with the great festivals of the harvests and seasons. Uri on our bodies and walls symbolizes the live wires of our connections to nature, and though I've had to shelve much of my skepticism, I'm still steadfast in believing that AI will find its greatest value when it's firmly tethered to the human, to the natural. Oori Data will always seek to place the technology in the service of better lives for people, including, people across the digital divide.

In my first public outing under this banner I'll be giving a talk at Balisage, a conference of specialists in markup, a technology particularly valuable in the digital humanities. I'll be live on the topic of "Privately Automating Common, Uncommon, and Surprising Markup Tasks using AI Large Language Models" at Noon Mountain, 2pm Eastern on July 31st.

"Play me in the summer"

In addition to Digable Planets, there's plenty of new tune for your box of boom this summer. Shout along to "We are the Ennn Beeeee Teeeeeeeeee!", the frequent, ecstatic cry from the lead vocalists off Nana Benz du Togo's delicious new project, Ago. You'll quickly embrace a different flavor of traditional West African divinity rhythms, what popularly gets termed juju, voodoo, santeria, etc. The pulsing songs on this album match bespoke percussion instruments with no-fuss bass and synth patches and patterns, just soaring on the human energy of the performers. A unique and joyous album, oh do just give it a listen! The feminine energy, "Mami Wata!", from the track "Tossi", will sweep you towards Dahomey, Dahomey! Submerged in the tones of the Ewe tongue, et tu va comprendre!

AGO, by Nana Benz du Togo

11 track album

Nana Benz du Togowiesel

On the Hip-Hop tip, I've got nothing but legends for you. You're seeing nothing but legends here. Kweli? Legend! Rakim?! Legend squared! Then they go and grab the legend cubed, Bob James? Performing together at The Blue Note (legend⁴)?! Wait, this is too much. But just peep the following video.

Most summers in Nigeria, where record stores were always blaring competing tunes at marketplace passersby, you could guarantee Bob James was the top selection. As my favorite Hip-Hop songs kept finding interesting new ways to sample James, I felt like a child offered their two favorite flavors of ice cream in a swirl. Jazz and Hip-Hop?! What?! So when I first saw James coming on the scene in this vid, and the love was flowing, I got goosebumps. Bob James always honored the black roots of Jazz, found the right inspiration and collaborations to open it up to younger ears, and that's why his œuvre is such seminal source material for Hip-Hop. I know he always used to treated the sampling of his work as a financial transaction rather than a creative extension, which is maybe the only slightly sour note (though the brilliance of his work is enough sweet to overcome that), so it's electrifying to hear that he might be collaborating directly with Rakim in the near future. Oh can you just imagine?!

I'm not sure I'll ever become used to how suddenly the great Tony Allen's rhythm palate has entered the worldwide musical lexicon, and that's OK, because what a glorious disruption! In this remix of Izo FitzRoy's pretty anthem, "Chasing Days", UK producer Sam Redmore puts his padawan polyrhythms to work.

Meanwhile, tell me FitzRoy didn't write these lyric specifically for this post.

I keep on moving away from the rain
I keep on running till the sun's on my face
I'll be forever chasing the days away

Yes, my friends, through Midsummer, and on the other side, chasing the days away towards the rooted gloom of Yule.

Closing closer to home

Last week's Juneteenth celebration in Loveland went off a treat. The thunderstorms (theme!) did flick a few drops at us, just to make sure we knew we lay at nature's mercy, but no significant hiccups. Here's a clip from my 30 minute performance, in which I recite Elephant Head [Ísí Ényí] from Ńchéfù Road, which touches on themes of solidarity between Africans on the continent and in diaspora.

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Just today I happened to notice the demise of The Nervous Breakdown, the literary magazine online where I served as poetry editor for a few years back in the early 2010s. One of my poems was published on the site 13 years ago today, "Scribble Ass Squirrel", and is just as looney as you'd expect from the title.

The original post, comments, etc. live on through The Wayback Machine, but it gives me a little pang to see TNB go off into that bitrot void. Ah les neiges d'antan! le big sigh

Scribble Ass Squirrel

Uche’s emphatic love letter to the squirrel in his attic.

The Nervous BreakdownTNB Poetry section

Oh and yes, as we all know the Nuggets just went and did it! I've been all about The Joker in my previous mentions, so trust Michael Malone to steal the show on the victory lap. The straight gangsterest coach in all sport, I'm telling ya! I love this extreme evidence that it's fully over, the Larry Brown era of uptown coaches who had no clue how to connect with downtown players and fans. The strut, the link, the trash-talking shirt. Wooo! My man!

Please do consider sharing this newsletter with others, and subscribing, if you haven't (button in the lower right). Ever new sounds for the listening, new plays on the field of words, fresh takes for tech's sake, with the side sauce of odd juxtapositions. Dá àlụ́-nu!

❧ Égwú 🪘 Ókwú ✍🏿 Ígwè 📡 Ńdụ̀ ❣️