 Imani Coppola |
"Good morning," announces the 26-year-old Nubian goddess. Feels like morning already, but it's only 10:30. The group behind her, BandCamp, starts a funky rap number.
"First band on the moon," says Coppola, inviting us to dance. Everyone is bouncing, the star included, as she launches into the Afrodite theme song—her favorite and mine—"Got That Hottie." Strapping on her guitar for a solo piece, she's reminiscent of an athletic Ani DiFranco.
"You know who you sound like?" a man in the audience shouts as Coppola finishes up her new single.
"Uh, I'm kinda busy right now," Coppola sarcastically snorts back. She and her back up vocalist giggle.
The man replies anyway. "Erykah Badu!"
Coppola sits down on a step, and begins to croon the coarse lyrics of "Satisfied" while she squirms. The energy is rising.
I'm warned ahead of time that my interview with attitude-laden Coppola might be "traumatic" depending on the day. I'd also read a previous interview where she described herself as "fucking mean" and not pleasant to be around. Articles on her are peppered with profanities. Yet something tells me that Sister is very cool and laid back.
"What's up, Imani? How are you?"
"I'm perrrrfect!" she exclaims brightly. "I just had the biggest sandwich ever. Bologna, pickle, and chicken." Her laugh is goofy, crazy. "I've been obsessed with bologna lately. Hopefully it's a passing phase."
"A lot of people are obsessed with bologna lately," I jest. I tell her that I love her latest CD, Afrodite, using a phrase I'd read somewhere. "The grooves are tighter than hotpants."
"As long as I'm not wearing them," she replies.
Coppola had recently showcased at CMJ Music Marathon in Manhattan, which sounded impressive. She wasn't fascinated, however.
"Yeah, about seven people came, all my sister's friends," she chortles again (as a matter of fact, most of her responses are punctuated with hearty laughter). "It was more like a rehearsal in a dark, vibeless venue. I hated it, actually." As it turns out, that Forum show in Kingston was a critical night in Coppola's life. She's made several important decisions since then, some of which she reveals, but asks me not to print. This is where she really lets loose a string of hilarious profanities. "It's definitely time for me to get in the driver's seat again," she proclaims.
She's already doing that with the CD, Afrodite. Coppola composed, produced, and arranged nearly everything and did some of the engineering at her own Mental Records in Woodstock. "Busted my ass," she says. It's quite a switch from her first CD, Chupacabra, which was released on Capitol Records (the winner of the bidding war on the outspoken, 19-year-old wild child) and sold over a half million copies. Sonically, Capitol called it "hippie hop" for its hiphop grooves and Beatlesque chord progressions. Finished in only eight weeks, Coppola was writing and laying tracks simultaneously. The Top 40 "Legend of a Cowgirl" was released before the album was completed, and an long international tour took place. A video was aired on MTV and VH-1, and the artist landed a spot on "Late Night with Conan O'Brien." But the male-dominated, biggie label wasn't impressed with sales of the single, and though Coppola had been high priority, they shelved the second album she'd started and dropped her (shocker). Something shifted in her. She had to start calling the shots.
"I finally came up with a vision of how I wanted my shit to sound and I didn't want anyone else's control and influence on what I was trying to create," she explains. "Sometimes men interfere in so many ways and belittle your judgment and abilities. Not to say I'm against working with anyone again, but now that I've learned the technical stuff, we've got to be on the same level. It can't be like, 'this is what you're doing, trust me.'" She puts on a neanderthal voice. "'You go home. I make beat.' It's a constant battle, it's draining and it goes against most things I feel as a woman."
Coppola undeniably expresses her womanhood on Afrodite's 10 commanding tracks. A female Lenny Kravitz immediately comes to mind, or perhaps a Neneh Cherry or rival for Prince. It's high energy urban funk, rock, pop and soul. With slick production, heavy riffs, and belligerent basslines, this album is super tight and full of hooks. Raw sexuality oozes from the thumping title track, which appropriately starts with Coppola's breath. Once she hits the catchy chorus, I dare you to sit still. "I am one of a kind, I'm an original, baby," sings the silky songbird. The 9/11 inspired single, "These Days," looks at America with its "popcorn politics, armed guards, and naked chicks": "Don't mix the melting pot / it's boiling over these days." (She explains: "At Penn Station, these guards were standing around with nothing to do but check out the girls and eat popcorn. They weren't doin' shit, they were bored out of their frikkin minds!") "Satisfied" is sultry with lyrics equally as dirty, and in "Gravity," she's looking for a place to groove: "I'll take my head outta the clouds / you can take yours outta your ass / and we can celebrate with a night on the town / but you gotta be down with me." If you're not dancing by the time you hear the wailing, heated "Got That Hottie," call the coroner—you must be dead. There's not a filler track to be found on this treasure. Maybe you'll wind up playing it a thousand times before Christmas like I have.
Perhaps now that Imani's taken the wheel, she'll become as famous as she deserves to be, because her potential is enormous and she's every bit as appealing and talented as current chart toppers. But that's not her priority.
"All I can figure from my own personal, spiritual experience is that I'm not supposed to be famous in that sense. I think I'm a lot deeper than what you typically see on television, and anything I'd ultimately put out there in the world I wouldn't want filtered through television." We talk a bit about her outlandish video for "Legend of a Cowgirl" and the kooky outfits and wigs she used to sport. "I like to have fun and be silly, but I just cannot get with the TV right now. I think it's a blessing that I'm not on it competing. I don't know if I have the stomach and patience to go through that process again. I did it and didn't like it. And I seriously haven't had cable in years."
So, what's the plan? To push the current record, find a small, comfortable label where she can do things on her own terms, and strip down her songs to just acoustic guitar and not mask herself behind clever production. "I'm a songwriter," she says. "The world has never heard what my songs sound like. They've heard my lyrics and cool beats, and people misinterpret and categorize me. I'm here to make people recognize that there's strength in individualism, and not to be scared. An artist has to keep moving forward, to be passionate about what you're doing. If you're an artist, you're high on your most recent creation, and here I am promoting something I was passionate about three years ago."
Currently Coppola is playing acoustic guitar on stools all over New York City with her drummer, Alex Elana, in the Two Shadow Posse, networking with musicians for a tour, and posting on her Yahoo! Imani Coppola Central Club fan site.
This interview could have been traumatic, I suppose, as she describes the period between the Forum show and our conversation. "If you'd gotten me two weeks ago, it would have been a lot of pent-up animosity. This interview would have been me being sarcastic as all hell about my whole situation." There's that goofy laugh again. "And I probably would have been drunk, too."
Yet one day before the presidential election, she's charming and funny, sweet and sensitive, happy, and full of hope. "You gotta have faith and hope, or you have nothing. It'll be okay as long as you don't have a hangover. Hangovers tend to depress you and give you a negative outlook on life. Tomorrow's gonna be great." She recites a line from a new song she's written. "Tuesday knows, Tuesday grows, help the President help the residents. If Bush is re-elected, it's time for him to help us. Maybe we have to inform him. It's like a guy during sex. He doesn't really know how to push it. You gotta teach him!"
We have another good laugh, and as I hang up the phone, a line from "Hope For The Future" pops into my head: "Hope for the future inside everyone."
"Imani," after all, is Swahili for "faith."