Anniversary
Last year on Mother’s Day, I sat at this computer unsure what would happen once people saw it. “It” being the first Rap Portrait of rap newcomer Mavi on what he later told me was his, “First work day as a rapper.”
The experience of releasing a film was a first for me after five years working strictly as a writer in music journalism. Although it wouldn’t be read, to me, the Rap Portrait had all the components of a great Rolling Stone cover story: A charismatic rapper from the south going through motions and meetings in the mecca where hip hop was born.
Mavi’s episode was shot on January 15th, but we didn’t know the shoot was happening until 24 hours prior. That’s when we saw the viral train video, which inspired us to reach out and ask him and his former manager Jarred if a camera could follow them for the day.
I look back on January 15th as a serendipitous miracle. Nothing was preplanned. All vacay had when he boarded a plane to New York that morning was a camera and some questions to ask. He didn’t know waiting for him was Mavi, who he never met, a big blue suitcase, and an itinerary inside buildings where filming usually doesn’t occur once the doors are closed.
I’m still perplexed at how vacay does it. He’s like a chameleon and a cat, quietly blending in the background to see what shouldn’t be seen. Capturing conversations with booking agents and record companies that would normally go undocumented. Granting more than a glimpse behind the scenes, but a shot behind the curtain.
Thank you again to everyone who allowed us to publish, without compromise, the intimacy in those rooms.
Something I enjoy each time I rewatch is how Mavi has this young face, he’s only 20, but his thoughts seem much older, mature, like his mind has been here before. There’s one quote I always loved that didn’t make the final cut. The question was, who is likely to be remembered, an idiot being a genius or a genius being an idiot?
“I definitely think they’re hard to tell apart,” the Charlotte-born rapper answered. “But I’mma go with...” there’s an extensive pause as his eyes shift upward. His facial expression quietly changed as the silent seconds went by, giving a sense of gears turning.
“Imma go with the idiot,” Mavi decided. “Cause the idiot is appealing to a commonality amongst idiots. The genius is doing an impose thing. A bullshit thing. When geniuses try to act like idiots, they always end up dying.”
I knew every word of the film by the May 10th, 2020 release. The editing process was extensive as we worked to make Mavi’s day-in-the-life feel more like a short film than a traditional music documentary. We included interview questions, but not so many that it felt like journalism. We made sure viewers understood this is a rapper, but didn’t include any of his music. Even the sold out concert, that is referenced throughout the entire nine minutes, isn’t shown.
We were enamored by this idea of omitting the obvious without losing the concert atmosphere. Personally, I love the quietness of him backstage as he hears the crowd. You see it on his face, terrified and exhilarated. He knows this is the first of many sold out shows here, but it’s still the first, and that anxiety hangs in the air. The guy who said, “What’s the worst that can happen?” is symbolic of what the rapper might be thinking.
One of my favorite moments is toward the end, when he’s backstage, alone, glaring at a mirror, as if to ponder, ‘Who am I?” The stare, after a beat, becomes a wide grin, as if the answer was and always will be, “I’m motherfucking Mavi.”
It's a pure moment. Almost as pure as the hug with his mom. She’s our first shot of a parental figure in the entire film. “You’re doing it Mav, you’re doing it,” she told him, a sweetness that shifts the tone from anxious to encouraging.
She’s proud, simply beaming. He has no words, but that face, fighting tears, suddenly appears younger, very much his momma’s child. Just before their reunion becomes too personal for public eyes, the door bursts open and the bodies flood in. It’s a reminder of how little privacy you’re granted in those smaller venues, before the tour buses and dressing rooms.
I love how Future is playing as they unknowingly intrude, the grand wizard of both the emotional and the emotionless. We ended the film there, as our protagonist vanished from the camera’s sight. Our way of saying this does happen in rap, someone can be seen so clearly, and then they’re gone, another face lost in a crowd of faces.
The real final scene, the one that plays after our closing title card, is what I believe makes the movie. You see Mavi again, slightly out of focus. His shirt is changed, his hair is frizzled, and his eyes have that daze look of enlightenment. He knows something. A new wisdom that is shared when vacay asked for a final thought of the day:
“What you meant to do, nobody can stop you from doing it, at all. Not even close. And you're gonna run into on accident, even. It’s not up to you, it’s not about you, what you meant to do finna happen, right now.”
I like to think of Rap Portraits as an accident that manifested because vacay and I spent months discussing ideas for a documentary series. We had no name, money, or direction, it was just talk, and then suddenly, it happened. All because we shared a good feeling about Mavi and were curious enough to see where that feeling would take us.
At the time of the release, I thought Rap Portraits was a good idea, and now, just a few weeks ago, we got our LLC, opened a business bank account, and hired a graphic illustrator, Christian Arnder. All things we never imagined while editing the initial draft.
Admittedly, we got off to a slow start. I’d like to think our inconsistency was primarily due to COVID-19. Our entire premise revolved around movement, yet, 2020 required stillness. Which eventually inspired us to produce these weekly (non) newsletters and In The Viewfinder video content. The films are still important to us. We know recording busy rappers on significant days is how this series will become a meaningful anthology of rap history in motion.
Just look at how rapid Mavi is growing. He’ll be headlining tours and performing to sold out crowds so often the feeling in those backrooms will change. The people he met, his mother, even the fans won’t have the same reaction to him as they did on January 15th. That’s the beauty of his Rap Portrait, though. It seized in technicolor a pre-pandemic New York City on the day we heard the sun talk. May we never forget what was said.