THE NEW YORK TIMES, SUNDAY, JULY 26, 2020 AR 11Pop
get pennies [from the services]. But we’re
also living in an era where capitalism is one
of the enemies. So you have to be very care-
ful to not become something that you didn’t
intend to become.
You’ve said that the minimal fee you were
initially charging is not sustainable. Have
you landed on a better way to price this?
I’m coming up with that, and I’m coming up
also with the energy to be comfortable with
that. Maybe a monthly fee is better than a
one-time fee. It’s very important for us to be
focused and organized right now, and also
having places to release feelings of guilt and
the feelings of suppression and pain and
distance. And a lot of those are released
through music. Just creating the right vi-
bration around the market will help people
understand why it’s valuable to us at all.
Did you make any money from your
streamed shows?
I made a little bit more each time. Basically,
I just wanted to be able to keep those [staff ]
people paid, to break even and make sure
that I didn’t, you know, make any foolish
purchases. And I also wanted to make sure
that this model could actually work. Now
that I know it can actually work, I know
what I need to do to be profitable with it.
Do you track the data? Do you know where
people are watching from, for example?
Definitely. We are very keen on checking
the data and the stats. We know the demo-
graphic and the age group and the geo-
graphical places where we’re more wel-
comed. My following has had a steady pace.
I perform to the congregation, pretty much.
I was just surprised to see how many other
people were watching, excited for us.
You recently did a live show at Dave Chap-
pelle’s house. But we’re still probably
months out from regular gigs. What did you
miss about tour shows?
I didn’t miss it. I’ve always wanted to per-
form from my bed at home. I’m the laziest
artist probably in Dallas. I never wanted to
do the packing and going through the car
and luggage and the hotel and, “What’s the
password? What’s the internet?” You get
tired after years and years of doing it, you
know?
I enjoyed the moment when the audience
and the artist become one living, breathing
organism, when the band and I are locked
in. I miss that synergy and energy between
me and the audience. But I found a new way
to express that, and it doesn’t take its place.
It just evolved it to another place.
You had a poster of Yoko Ono above your
bed in one of the streams. Is she a meaning-
ful artist to you?
Very much so. I thought about her a whole
lot during 2010 when I did the “Window
Seat” video [in which Badu disrobes on a
walk through Dallas, and then mimes being
shot]. I thought about all of the female per-
formance artists who used nudity as a polit-ical statement to bring attention to an im-
portant issue or a passion that they had or
something that they needed to erupt.
You know how you call on deities? Well,
for me, it was Yoko and it was Josephine
Baker and Nina Simone and many others —
Ana Mendieta. Lots of visual artists and
women who take risks to make these state-
ments, even though they know that they
will most likely be misunderstood, because
they’re generally ahead of their peers or
time. But brave enough to still take those
walks. And those women walked with me.
Do you feel as if you’re reaching a different
height with this project?
For myself as a creative, yes. There’s noth-
ing like human beings and real breaths and
eye contact and hearing your voice rever-
berate off the back wall of the club, come
back at you and hit you in the jugular. Noth-
ing like that. There’s nothing like D.J.-ing at
a club and having all the people at the same
time’s heart rates go up when we hear a
song from our childhood that we loved, or
when a guest walks onstage and everyone
goes crazy because they didn’t expect them.
But there’s also nothing like performing
and filming and creating and delivering
something in the same moment. We are per-
forming a two- to three-hour live music vid-
eo, and everything has to be on cue. Every-
body just exhales after it’s over, and we are
just all quiet. We did it.
As a woman of color in an industry domi-
nated by white males, do you think owning
your own platform, and asking to be paid
what you’re worth, directly, is revolutionary
and challenging in its own right?
Oh yeah. If I was doing a live show anyway,
I’m going to get paid what I’m worth at this
time in my career. I had to build that reputa-
tion from February 1997 [when “Baduizm”
was released] to now. This is a whole new
arena, and I’m willing to do the work. I’m
going to have to build that reputation again
to show this industry that I can deliver the
things that I say I’m going to deliver,
because there is a network in place already
for this.
And me, as a woman and as a noncon-
formist, building something outside of that
network, is always going to be difficult. I
know that already. Now, they’ve got to fig-
ure out how we’re going to count my
streams and deliver on time, and the pub-
lishing company had to get involved. I’m
building a new machine. I may face a few
obstacles.
But I’m not even thinking in those terms.
I’m not in a rush — I don’t think it’s a race,
because I don’t think that there’s anyone
else who’s doing exactly what I’m doing. I’m
willing to study and learn how this thing
works, because I definitely want to be in this
game.
People are used to seeing Erykah Badu,
the brand. But they’re going to have to start
getting used to seeing Badu World, the com-
pany, because that’s what I’m building.RAHIM FORTUNE FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES
‘You know
how you call
on deities?
Well, for me,
it was Yoko
and it was
Josephine
Baker and
Nina Simone
and many
others.’Left, Erykah Badu at
home in Dallas. Right,
from top, screenshots
from her performances:
Badu’s third quarantine
concert appeared to wrap
the musicians in colorful
orbs; the concerts have
also featured elaborate
outfits; Badu performing
in front of a photo of Yoko
Ono, one of the risk-
taking women who have
inspired her.