Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Ms Dynamite featured on Sessions@AOL

Ms Dynamite is featured in the new Sessions@AOL. The video clip introduces the British artist, the singer then explains the origin of her stage name, being part of such a large family, her love of reggae, what fans can expect from her debut ‘A Little Deeper’, what advice she has for other up and coming singers, and more. Watch the interview, and a live performance of ‘Watch Over Them’ below.



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My journey in footsteps of anti-slavery heroine


Ms Dynamite, who has made a TV film for the anti-slavery law bicentenary, reveals her pride in Jamaica's first freedom fighter to David Smith



Niomi McLean-Daley first heard of the legend of Nanny of the Maroons at Winnie Mandela

School near her home in north London. The daughter of a British mother and a Jamaican father, Niomi was has always been fascinated by her family's Caribbean past and wider questions of black identity. In Nanny she found a black icon who also happened to be a woman.

Niomi is now 25 and better known as Ms Dynamite, who burst on to the hip hop music scene five years ago with her debut album, A Little Deeper. The singer, who has taken time out from recording to look after her three-year-old son, Shavaar, went to Jamaica for a BBC2 documentary, Ms Dynamite in Search of Nanny Maroon, to be shown next Sunday at 8pm, marking the bicentenary of the parliamentary act to end the slave trade. She is passionate about Nanny and has some highly provocative opinions about the legacy of slavery among black Britons today.

Nanny, described in the documentary as 'a legendary figure in the style of Robin Hood or King Arthur', led a band of fugitive slaves who in the 18th century defeated the might of the British empire, at least according to Jamaican folklore. It is said that, under her formidable military leadership, the Maroons - the name was a corruption of the Spanish 'cimarrones', meaning wild or untamed - wore bushes as camouflage and used sticks, stones and machetes to wage guerrilla warfare, killing soldiers, raiding plantations and giving hope to slaves throughout the Caribbean.

Nanny is seen as a personification of black resistance to slavery, her armed insurgency challenging the popular image of passive victims who awaited their liberation by white abolitionists such as William Wilberforce, the British MP who led the case against slavery in Westminster.

Ms Dynamite said: 'I was always fascinated by the stories about my family's Jamaican past, especially the years of slavery. But the one that really got to me was Nanny. The main thing for me is the fact that she completely rebelled and said: "There's no way I'm going to belong to someone else. I'm going to live freely and I'm also going to help others live freely, and if anyone comes up here and tries to take my home or this land I've created for myself, I'm going to fight for it."

'She defeated the British on numerous occasions, which is hard to get your head around: the British suffered thousands and thousands of casualties, whereas the Maroons suffered next to nothing in comparison.

'What we would call human rights now, she took and fought to the death for. Women usually seem to take the caring, loving, motherly role like Florence Nightingale, but she decided, "No, I'm going to be on the front line, I'm going to get all these soldiers together, teach them the art of battle and show them how to fight in a war." You wouldn't expect that from a woman. If you dig into black history there are lots and lots of black men that are prominent figures but not so many women.'

Tales that Nanny could catch bullets in her hands, or even in her bottom, are generally seen by Jamaicans as British propaganda attempts to portray her as a witch. She is commemorated on Jamaican banknotes and by a sculpture in Heroes Park in the capital, Kingston.

'I found the men had the most respect and passion for her,' Ms Dynamite said. 'Maybe she reminded them a little bit of their mum, because she was quite a fighter and survivor and very courageous. She was very, very important in the abolition movement and paved the way to the end of slavery in the Caribbean. Other people on other islands heard of the Maroons on Jamaica and did the same thing.'

Ms Dynamite toured the island to study the full horror of slavery and its victims. In one arresting episode, she displayed her combative streak by visiting a plantation and demanding its white owner tell her how he can live with himself knowing that his property and wealth are inherited from slave-owning ancestors who 'tortured, killed, raped, stole and did all these disgusting things to black people'. He said he didn't feel guilty or have a cross to bear.

Ms Dynamite's most emotional moment came at a museum when she was shown sets of shackles and chains and a gibbet used to kill, incarcerate and torture slaves. 'I said to the guy who was with me, why is that one so small? He said, that was for children: they would put it round the kids' ankles and then hammer the giant nail into the floor so they didn't get under their parents' feet while they working, or as a punishment they'd put them in the sun and leave them in the heat for the whole time with no water, no food.

'That was the hardest thing, when I saw that. All I could picture was my son. I was fighting back the tears, but it didn't work for very long.'

Ms Dynamite's Jamaican father left her Scottish mother when she was a young child. The eldest of 11 siblings, she began her rapping career as a teenager with a slot on pirate radio and was the first solo black woman to win the prestigious Mercury Music Prize.

She has strong views on the problems facing black Britons: 'There are things which are the direct result of slavery which still affect us today as black people. For instance, there was a very famous slave owner called Willie Lynch and he made up this basic law called "Divide and rule", the power to enslave the people and divide them: make the darker-skin slaves work in the fields and do the hardest work, and the lighter-skin slaves work in the house and get a bit better treatment. It set men against women. I think that as black people we are still living that law. There's a lot of segregation among black people and not a lot of unity.

'There's stuff in the family and home which is also a result of slavery. Men were not allowed to be fathers but were used to breed to create more slaves. It's something that - not with everyone - is common in the black community, especially in our generation: the fathers are not always there. We're not that far away from slavery and that way of living, where a man is literally just a tool to reproduce.'

Ms Dynamite is dismayed at a lack of positive black role models and hopes that her music, at least, sends the right message. She might return to the recording studio, although the experience of presenting a documentary has given her a taste for TV. The audience will judge her against more established presenters amid an abundance of programmes marking the slavery anniversary.

Ms Dynamite looks carefree as she disappears into the crowd on Kentish Town Road after the interview. She does, after all, have the black, female and fearless Nanny Maroon on her side.

Hip hop to stardom

Born: Niomi McLean-Daley in London on 26 April, 1981.

Education: A-levels in English, art and media studies. Rejected place at Sussex University in favour of a music career.

Big break: Collaborated on So Solid Crew's 2001 single 'They Don't Know'.

Albums: A Little Deeper, Judgement Days

Awards: Mercury Music Prize Album of the Year 2002 - she donated the £20,000 award to charity, Mobo Awards Best Single, Best Newcomer, UK Act of the Year 2003.

Previous TV work: Presenter on Channel 4's urban music show Flava

High: Performed at Live8, July 2005.

Trivia: Friends picked names out of a hat to decide that Ms Dynamite would be her professional moniker.

Official Post Date: Sunday 18 March 2007

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Ms Dynamite live interview

The debut album, It Takes More, has rocketed Niomi McLean-Daley, aka Ms Dynamite, into the spotlight.

Ms Dynamite interview part 1

In the first half of this interview, Ms Dynamite chats to Karen Gabay (of BBC GMR's The People) about the vibe of It Takes More, being associated with So Solid Crew, recording in the sunshine of Jamaica and the reasons why her album's called A Little Deeper.

Ms Dynamite interview part 2

In the second part, Ms Dynamite names her favourite tunes and gives a bit more detail about herself.

Source

Ms. Dynamite: bored and fed up with hip-hop's bling-bling? Get ready—there's a big, bold new political voice about to turn the genre on its ear

The United Kingdom may lay claim to inventing the English language, but British and rap are two words that have never inspired much excitement when placed next to each other.

That's all about to change, however, thanks to Ms. Dynamite and the recent U.S. release of her debut album, A Little Deeper (Interscope).

Her incendiary stage name seems like an understatement when describing the rapid burn-rate of her success. From her very first appearance on record, a 2001 collaboration with U.K. garage producer Sticky, called "Booo!," Ms. Dynamite (born Niomi McLean-Daley 21 years ago) rocketed from the underground into the U.K. Top 20.

Then, last September, A Little Deeper won the Mercury Prize (England's equivalent of the top Grammy) over hot favorite the Streets. The key to Ms. Dynamite's appeal lies in her album's title--she does go deeper than the average hip-hop MC. For one thing, she sings in addition to rapping, often dipping into her Caribbean heritage to spice the funk with warm melodic flavor.

She's also not afraid to tackle serious topics, in lieu of bling-bling boasts, drawing comparisons with Lauryn Hill as a result (longtime Fugee associate Salaam Remi, in fact, produced much of A Little Deeper). But the best thing about Ms. Dynamite is that even the most solemn subject sounds like a party through her microphone--tracks like "Dy-Na-Mi-Tee" radiate a sassy brass that would give even Eve a run for her Benjamins. So watch out America--U.K. hip-hop has a new weapon at its disposal, and as Interview's David Furnish discovered in New York recently, this is one smart bomb.

Interview:

DAVID FURNISH: I have to tell you, I've listened to your album so much.

MS. DYNAMITE: Aren't you sick of it? [laughs]

DF: No, I'm not sick of it, actually. For me it's the best album of the past year. And it has such lasting power, because it's a great mix of really good music and just amazing content.

MD: Thank you.

DF: Your lyrics are intensely personal. It sounds like you had a really harrowing journey growing up--a lot of hardship. How did you come to be where you are right now?

MD: [laughs] To be honest, I don't know. I think it was a lot of luck. I mean, I believe in fate, and I believe this is where I'm supposed to be right now, but I never expected to get here. I never wanted anything to do with the music industry. I love people--especially young people--and I really wanted to be a social worker or a teacher and just help--physically help--young people.

DF: You come from a big family, right?

MD: Yes. There are 10 of us, and being the oldest, well--that was a task and a half.

DF: Did you feel like you had to lead by being responsible?

MD: I hated being the oldest, because all I'd ever hear is, "You should be setting an example." And I got the blame for everything. I also found it very difficult because I had an older brother, who died of cot death before I was born.

DF: Oh, God...

MD: It was something my mum had never hidden from me--my mum's a really honest person. If you're old enough to ask the question, then you're old enough to get the answer, is her motto. So I grew up feeling really angry [that he wasn't around], and even though I didn't know him, I felt like I did. If I got into trouble for something, I'd go off to my room and talk to him: "I don't want to be the oldest. You're supposed to be here, looking after me." Growing up was difficult, but now I can appreciate it. My brothers and sisters are so proud of me, and they're all really good, intelligent, vibrant people. They say, "Wow, she's my big sister," and I'm like, "Wow, these are my little brothers and sisters," because they give me so much joy.

DF: As such a large family in London, there must have been tough times--economically tough times.

MD: Yeah. When my mum and dad split up--they separated when I was about two years old--it was really hard. Then my mum met my sister's dad and had my sister, and quite a lot of other children, who died when they were really young. Then, my sister's dad and my mum broke up when I was about 10. And that was when it became amazingly hard. By that time, I was old enough to understand everything that was going on. My mum was living on something like 40 pounds, maybe less, a week to feed three children. She wasn't working; she was trying her hardest to finish her degree. I saw my mum struggle for years and years. Then when I was about 13 or 14, I did an internship at a movie theater, and they liked me so much that they gave me a job. I felt like, "Right! This is my chance. I can help my family." You know, my little 40 pounds a week from my Saturday job-but it did help. I'd work extra days or extra evenings so that I could get my brother a pair of trainers or get my sister a new coat--

DF: --Nice sister! [laughs]

MD: A lot of people say stuff like that, but I don't see it as "nice sister." It was more like, "What else was I gonna do? Watch my sister be cold or watch my brother go to school with holey trainers?" I could never do that. I thought, "They need this. I can help."

DF: "There's not enough money to go around. We're all in this together."

MD: Yeah. My family's like that. "What's yours is mine; what's mine is yours."

DF: From your lyrics, it sounds like you hit a rebellious period a few years back, and you moved out. What was that all about?

MD: I think when my sister's dad left, my relationship with my mum started to deteriorate. Just because it was so difficult--she was working so hard to provide for us, and I kind of had this responsibility to be the other half, holding the family up. Then my mum was diagnosed with cancer--and that was like, "Okay just kill me now! Give us a break!" Us kids were like, "God, what have we done?" We really did blame ourselves. And we were kind of in it on our own, because even though my family is really caring, everyone had their own problems to deal with. And no one ever sat us down and said, "It's all right, she's going to be okay."

DF: So you were really fending for yourself.

MD: Basically. We were shopping for ourselves; we could buy whatever we wanted. I suppose, if the circumstances were different--say, my mum had gone away for a holiday--we would have loved it, but obviously it wasn't nice. And when my mum started to get better, she was angry. You know, she's a really strong woman--

DF: --And she suddenly had to come to terms with being human, and accepting she was vulnerable.

MD: That's exactly it. I think she was angry that we had to look after her, that we'd seen her so weak. So she was really angry--and I was angry. Not with her, but with the situation. And on top all of that, I was a teenager, I was a girl, I thought I knew it all--especially after being the woman of the house. You know, I wanted to do what I wanted, when I wanted.

DF: So you rebelled.

MD: Yeah. I was like, "Right, I'm leaving."

DF: You moved out--once you knew your mum was well?

MD: She'd been in remission for at least a year. I'm really glad that I did it now. I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing if I hadn't.

DF: In your lyrics, you talk about reaching a level of enlightenment, and how music's your natural high, and that you're living life chemical free. When you rebelled, did you experiment--

MD: --Not with hard drugs. I did start drinking a lot. And once I came out of that period, I smoked a lot of weed. I think weed amplifies what's already inside you--and I was already depressed, so it made me a million times more so. I really didn't give a shit about being here. I did not open my door to anyone-not my brothers or sisters, my mum, my friends. My curtains were closed, and I didn't let anyone in.

DF: How did you pull yourself out of it?

MD: I think music pulled me out of it. I know that sounds crazy, but--

DF: --No, it doesn't sound crazy at all.

MD: See, even in my depression, my house was always tidy. My house was spotless. That was a little sign that I did still care, you know? And I still always went to college, even if I was drunk or high. And I was writing.

DF: Now, at that point, you were thinking about music and writing lyrics...

MD: No, I was just writing down my thoughts and feelings, like I had always done since I was six. Back then, when I didn't want to tell my mum, "I'm really pissed off" or "I'm really hurt," I would write everything down. I'd write letters to my dad, because I was angry with him for leaving--but I'd never send them. That was my way of dealing with stuff. I'm a write-aholic. So I was still doing that. I think I wrote the most when I was depressed, because I wasn't talking to anyone. I needed to get it out somehow. Then one day, I started chatting along to the radio, and I kind of realized that I could emcee. It wasn't anything that I'd ever wanted to do, but one of my friends came to see me, and she was like, "We're really worried about you. We're going out, and you have to come." Eventually, I went out. And I just started emceeing.

DF: Was this in a club?

MD: It was a friend's birthday party in a club, and everyone was like, "Go on--sing, emcee!" So I did, and from that second, I just remember feeling like, "Wow, I haven't felt this good for such a long time." And it wasn't because I was drunk. It was because all these people appreciated what I was doing. I was giving something to them--and they were giving back to me this whole buzz of being onstage and performing. Even though I convinced myself that I was really shit at it, inside, I enjoyed that feeling of, "Oh wow, I have to do that again. I want to do that again." That's really where it began. I started emceeing on a local radio station and got the taste for performing. I think that's what dragged me out [of the depression].

DF: And, presumably, someone from a record company spotted you at some point and helped you take the natural talent you were developing and start to channel it into what it's become.

MD: Yeah. I basically went from club to club, someone spotted me, and I did a track called "Booo!," which was a big underground hit. From there, everything has been like a roller coaster. Because from that point, all these record labels were suddenly like, "Ms. Dynamite! Right, we want to sign her." It was just the weirdest, most bizarre thing ever. So I signed to Polydor [in the U.K.] and started making the album--which was also weird, because I was intending to make an emceeing album and I ended up singing, something I had no faith in whatsoever.

DF: But you're a great singer. I love that you don't just rap, that you sing as well.

MD: [sheepishly] Oh, thanks. It took me so long to get used to singing. I had the biggest argument when I went to work with Salaam [Remi], my first producer. He was like, "I found a track for you, and there's a little hook on there, and I want you to sing." I said, "Sing? Are you crazy?" Eventually, he convinced me, and I heard it, and I was like, "That's it. I'm not doing it again. I sound like a cat falling off a building." [DF laughs] I hated it! But--and I think I got this from my mum--I can't bear to think that I can't do something. Even if I think I sound like shit or whatever, I just have to do it. I love a challenge. So I ended up making an album full of singing, and I started to get more comfortable. Singing was kind of this symbol of me being at peace. I just felt more right inside, even though I still thought I was shit at it. [both laugh] Seriously, even when the album came out, I refused to listen to it. I only started to when I won the Mercury Prize, because I was like, "Why did I win?" I was so shocked.

DF: But there was a critical explosion in England--you had such an amazing impact. Even the most serious music journalists around were praising this as one of the most exciting debuts to hit British music in a long, long time. Did you not believe that?

MD: Not at all. I mean, it was nice. But I'm really strong-minded, and I've been so used to beating myself up for such a long time that the whole world could say, "You're amazing," and I'd be like, "They don't think that I'm amazing; they think Ms. Dynamite's amazing. They don't know me; they know Ms. Dynamite." I've been able to separate everything like that.

DF: You have an unbelievable maturity and sense of being happy where you are right now--which is a really cool thing for someone who is 21. I mean, most 21-year-olds feel pretty fucked up.

MD: Well, I know that I've come a long way. I always reflect on what I'm doing, on how I'm behaving, on my relationships with people. You know, if I need to take 10 minutes out because something doesn't feel right, I'm going to do it, and I don't care who I piss off. For me, it's about staying in touch with who I am. I'm quite a spiritual person, despite growing up not believing in God at all. Cussing him, in fact, because of all the things that had happened.

DF: Did you think, What kind of God could put one family through so much?

MD: Yeah, that's how I felt. So I'm not a religious person, but I believe there's something-and I communicate with that something, whatever it is.

DF: Some people call it your higher power.

MD: Right, that's it. And I'm getting steps closer to being content.

DF: Who are some of the musicians who inspired you? Were there artists who helped you through tough times?

MD: Not necessarily artists who helped me through tough times, but the artists who helped me, in terms of just being a person, were people like Public Enemy and N.W.A. I really like outrageous artists. I listen to a lot of early, early reggae, and people like Bob Marley, obviously. Dennis Brown and John Holt--they were outspoken about social issues and said stuff you didn't hear elsewhere in British music. My friends at school would be listening to Kylie Minogue-- [sings] "I should be so lucky"--and I'd be singing a really politically conscious song about history or about poverty and kids dying in Africa.

DF: It's interesting that you didn't want to escape. Because your everyday life was so tough, you could have been forgiven for wanting to indulge in pure pop entertainment, to kind of take you away and cheer things up a bit.

MD: But it didn't stimulate my mind. I just found it boring. I thought, "You're not saying anything; it doesn't really interest me." I was a bit of a snob in that way, I suppose.

DF: You were looking for more.

MD: Yeah. My mum brought us up to always search for more. We were aware of all these terrible things that were going on in the world, and I didn't want to hear about "I should be so lucky" when, you know, I could listen to other stuff that would kind of educate me at the same time.

DF: It sounds like, even when you were in the depths of despair, you didn't give up on your education--that you knew it was an important element, to transport you and give you more opportunities.

MD: Do you know what? I was so down that I didn't even think that deeply about it. But I've had so many teachers who have looked at me like, "Niomi, the mouthy, feisty, cheeky, loud little black girl who's never going to amount to anything." And I refused to be a stereotype. I've always been aware that the odds were against me--I grew up in a single-parent family, a working-class family, with a white mum, as a black child--you know, the list goes on. But there is no way I'm going to live up to what certain people expect me to be.

DF: Listening to your first single, "It Takes More," I hear a lot of anger about certain aspects of hip-hop culture. Rap and hip-hop came from an anarchic social voice, from the ghetto, from people talking about the imbalances in their lives. And as that's gone from being an underground movement to a successful, mainstream movement, a lot of the substance has gone out of it. Is that what you're talking about?

MD: Definitely. That song is about hip-hop but it's also about anyone who has any influence over young people--politicians, teachers, parents. This is how I look at it: As an artist, I have a responsibility to young people. The fact that this year, at 21 years old, I am able to buy a house for myself to live in--which I would never, ever have been able to do--comes down to the fact that young children have bought my records. Of course, I was given a chance, and I've worked hard, but the bottom line is: I live in a house that these young kids bought for me. So, without a doubt, I have a responsibility to them. Young people are influenced by those they look up to, and they do take what I might say, and what others in the public eye say, literally. As you said, hip-hop began as a means of expression, and even though it was often about the struggles and the hardships of young black men in America, it was a positive thing. It was like, "This is our voice. We are speaking out, and we're going to do something about it." And for music to have started as something so great and positive, only to get to where it's at now--so much of it is materialistic and sexual--it's really disappointing.

DF: When you're being critical of elements of hip-hop in a song like "It Takes More," do you worry about pissing off an industry that you're part of?

MD: Not at all. If you feel pissed off by my song, then obviously you need to look at yourself. I'm saying, "This is my opinion." Why does it piss you off? Am I talking about you? I'm not afraid to speak my mind--that's why I've been given a mouth; that's why I've been given a voice. If these people can get up and sing stuff that I feel is totally irrelevant or unimportant to me, then I can get up and talk about stuff that I think is important, things I think young people should be aware of. As long as you can live with yourself and live with what you're doing, you shouldn't have to answer to anyone apart from your mum.

DF: [laughs] I'd be scared to meet your mum.

MD: [laughs] You answer to yourself, you know? As long as you can walk down the street with your head high. And as long as we keep talking, others will keep talking, and then they'll keep talking--and one day everything will get better. We have to believe that.

David Furnish is a frequent Interview contributor.

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Ms Dynamite Fans Network


"Bad Gyal"

'I spent years thinking I was stupid'

Official Post Date: 23 Sep 2002

Her GCSE results were the biggest surprise in Ms Dynamite's life - then she won the £20,000 Mercury music prize. Tom Horan meets her

Triumphant but amazed: 'I keep thinking I'm going to wake up tomorrow and feel like a famous person,' says 21-year-old Niomi Daley

In the gritty north London corridor that links Kentish Town to Archway, Sunday night's earthquake is not the only recent event to have caused a disturbance. A few nights earlier, another tremor rocked the normally anonymous neighbourhood when 21-year-old Niomi Daley, aka Ms Dynamite, won Britain's premier music award, the £20,000 Mercury prize. The place has been buzzing ever since.

Seeing off David Bowie and favourite The Streets, the self-effacing singer and rapper from the world of urban soul music was a surprise winner. The bookies certainly had her down as a long shot. But the judges excelled themselves that night, for her debut album, A Little Deeper, is a rich and involving snapshot of life in a modern British city - and packed with catchy tunes.

Her triumph is made all the more compelling for the fact that, in the week she won it, the street-tough Daley should have been starting an anthropology degree at the University of Sussex.

"I remember the day my GCSE results came through," says Daley, who picked up nine at high grades, followed by three good A-levels. "I marched straight over to see the teacher who was in charge of the exams. I said: 'There must be some mistake here. I can't have got all this lot.' I just never believed I had it in me. I spent years thinking I was stupid."

Daley is sitting in a cavernous photographic studio a few minutes' walk from the scene of her exam triumphs. Outside, the national press are stacked up like jumbo jets over Heathrow, waiting for their moment to meet her.

Daley went to Acland Burghley school, an imposing, Sixties-built comprehensive whose intake reflects the extreme social diversity that is typical of so many areas of London. The chancellor's wife, Sarah Brown, is a former pupil. Daley glows with a warmth and self-possession that belie the love-hate relationship that she had with education. "I wouldn't say I was the model student," she says. "But Burghley was good for my social life. It had people from all classes, religions and races. But it had a very positive effect on me. I learnt that people are people, regardless of where they come from."

It was while Daley was at school that her mother developed cancer. Though she overcame the disease, their relationship deteriorated and Daley moved out of the family home in Kentish Town and into a series of hostels. She is keen not to make a fuss about this period in her life, but it was clearly a difficult time. "At one point, I had to live on £25 a week. But people want to try and make out that my upbringing was terrible, because it makes a better story," she says. "The fact is, I've always had lots of love and support from my family."

Daley has roots in two islands that could not be more extreme opposites. Her mother, Heather McClean, a primary school teacher, comes from Benbecula in the Outer Hebrides. Her father, Eyon Daley, is a plumber from Jamaica. He moved out when she was two, though she still has a good relationship with him. He went on to have four more children, as did her mother.

In a fatherless family, Daley had to take on responsibility for her brothers and sisters at an early age. As an eight year old, she would babysit while her mother took on extra jobs at night. This seems to have grounded the young singer in a domestic realpolitik that informs much of her songwriting. One of the things that makes her an unusual talent is that she tackles, head-on, the tricky subjects of teenage motherhood and absentee fathers. Yet Daley seems only now to be realising the effect that her lyrics may have.

"I think and I write," she says, twisting a thin gold chain that shows at the neck of a dove-grey Nike tracksuit. "They're the two things I do obsessively. It's as if my subconscious takes over. It's like being hypnotised.

"What comes out is raw. I'm very honest. When I wrote my album, I never thought about who would listen to it, or what the consequences of it would be."

Though her songs often dwell on questions of race and teenage gun crime, Daley's voice is a strongly moral one. In fact, there is something of the sermon in much of her best work. She advocates self-improvement through study. She promotes love and tolerance in a way not dissimilar to the American soul star Mary J Blige, who is 11 years her senior. "Black roses grow from concrete," says one line on A Little Deeper. It is heartening that for all the bad-boy posturing of So Solid Crew - with whom she has recorded - Ms Dynamite's world view has struck a chord with a much wider constituency.

"I never had a picture of the type of person I would appeal to," she says. "But I'm a young black woman who lives in the city, so I suppose, if anyone, that's who I had in mind. I get people from the countryside, I get old, rich-looking blokes - it amazes me. I was on a plane the other day and this middle-aged man in a suit in first class said: 'Are you Ms Dynamite? I love your album.' I was really taken aback.

"The social problems I talk about generally affect only a certain type of person - and they will only ever change if a different type of person hears about them. That is really exciting. It means that the people who can do something about these problems are hearing about them. If my music does nothing else, I want it to make people think."

If her directness and positive tone form a crucial part of her appeal, Daley has plenty of authenticity, that cornerstone of street culture. She has paid her dues on the underground scene, graduating through the circuit of pirate radio stations and word-of-mouth shows.

This route to stardom - in which craft and content are paramount and surface appeal of little relevance - has suited Daley. She is wary of the overtly sexual approach that so many young women in music end up taking.

"I always felt ugly as a teenager," she says. "I felt fat. I was bigger than all the boys in my school. I felt like a giant. So I became a tomboy, the class clown, full of practical jokes. And even though I'm over that now, I still don't like all that hair and make-up business."

In the light of her tomboy period, and the way her father abandoned her mother, Daley is a little wary of relationships, she says. In one song on A Little Deeper, she tells, in a rather arch and languorous song-cum-rap, the story of a man she yearned for, who ignored her for years and then phoned constantly when her debut single was so hot it was fetching £100 a copy.

"There was no anger," she says. "It was just my cheeky way of letting him know that I knew what was going on. If it takes material success and other people's opinions to make you like me, then I definitely don't want to be with you. Mind you, by then, I didn't fancy him anyway."

She pauses and pulls out a packet of Benson & Hedges. "I'm a strong-headed and stubborn woman when it comes to relationships. This is my standard," she says. She raises one hand flat, at about head height. Her nails are a manicurist's fantasy: straight, unadorned and about an inch and a half long.

"This is what I'll settle for. If you are not here, or above it, then" She gives a wave. Her smile illuminates the studio.

At next week's prestigious MOBO (music of black origin) Awards, which celebrate jazz, hip hop, reggae and R&B, Daley is nominated in six categories. It's not out of the question that she will win the lot. But the fact that she is performing at the event at London Arena seems to concern her more.

"I can't believe I'm going," she says. "It always looks so brilliant on the telly. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up tomorrow and feel like a famous person. Tomorrow, I'm going to feel like this amazing artist that people tell me I am. But I never do. And I think it's a good thing."

Ms Dynamite: The rap artist

Official Post Date: Sunday 21 July 2002

Ms Dynamite (Niomi McLean-Daley), 21, has just released her debut album. Her latest single 'It Takes More' has been a huge hit this summer

I never imagined that I'd be where I am now. My parents separated and my mum was diagnosed with cancer when I was 13. She is a very strong woman and never let anyone see it getting to her, but it affected me because I felt I had to act like a parent to my younger brother and sister.

I hated school. A lot of the kids were racist and the teachers weren't much better. But my mum is white and she made it clear that not everyone is like that and we shouldn't be like that to them.

I moved into a hostel when I was 15. I needed space to be my age again, but even when I was there my mum would nag me about doing my homework. I never stopped studying and was determined to achieve something.

Music was like escaping from everything. I've written songs since I was 14. I sang in school plays and concerts, but it was a fluke that I fell into the business. I had a gap year waiting to go to Sussex University to study social anthropology. I always enjoyed mucking about at parties MC-ing, and a man who ran a pirate radio station offered me a weekly MC slot.

I started doing raves for £25 a time, but a lot of men in the industry made it hard for me. Then I moved to Freek FM and everything was cool. I knew I'd make my mark. I signed with Polydor just as I was due to start at university.

I feel I do have a responsibility and I am not going to get up on stage and make songs I wouldn't appreciate my little sister listening to. I tell young girls to work hard and get an education, even though I thought school was a load of shit; and I hope they see me as an intelligent woman who doesn't have to get her tits out to be noticed.

I'd love to have a million and one children but I don't even have a boyfriend and I'm not in the position where I could offer them everything I want. I left the hostel and moved back in with my mum a year ago. It's really nice to be back in a family environment.

Ms Dynamite at the "Homecoming festival" at Irvine Beach Park!

Homecoming festival

New dance-oriented festival with, it says here, thematic link of “let’s boogie”

When: 2nd-3rd May, 2009
Where: Irvine Beach Park
How much: £99

Confirmed: Agnelli & Nelson, Bob Sinclar, Dan Black, Evil Nine, Ironik, Jay Sean, Lisa Lashes, Masters at Work, Ms Dynamite, Pigeon Detectives (DJ set), Reverend And The Makers, Scratch Perverts, Slipmatt, Snow Patrol (DJ set), Soul II Soul Sound System, South Central, Taio Cruz, Tim Westwood, Utah Saints.

Come to Canada, BC Ms Dynamite!! Pleaseee!

Source:thelineofbestfit.com

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Thursday, March 26, 2009

Ms Dynamite Special 15.10.2005

Poster:
Photos:
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Ms Dynamite Profile


Ms Dynamite
Birth name Niomi Arleen McLean-Daley
Born 26 April 1981 (1981-04-26) (age 27)
Archway, London, England
Genre(s) R&B, rap, 2-step garage
Occupation(s) Singer, songwriter, rapper
Instrument(s) Singing, rapping
Years active 2001–present
Label(s) Polydor (2001-2006)
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Ms Dynamite Live Rare

Random Unsorted Live:
A Little Darker Live with Missy Elliott:
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Ms Dynamite Awards and honours

Mercury Music Prize - Album of the Year 2002 [1]
100 Great Black Britons - 2003 - No14
The South Bank Show Awards 2003 - Best Pop (A Little Deeper)
Race In The Media Awards 2003 - Media Personality Of The Year
MOBO Awards 2003 - Best Single
MOBO Awards 2003 - Best Newcomer
MOBO Awards 2003 - U.K Act Of The Year
Brit Awards 2003 - British female solo artist
Brit Awards 2003 - Best British Urban Act

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Ms Dynamite Old PhotoShoots

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