Chenjerai Kumanyika - The Two Times I Met Laurence Fishburne

 

On December 21st, 2007 at 02:15 PM, a colleague at my job told me the boss wanted to see me and I should brace myself, because the boss wasn't pleased. Now, when I say my job, what y’all should know is this was a temporary job. When I say it was a temporary job, what you should know, is that my performance today determined whether I would be asked back tomorrow. 

 

So, when I went in the boss's office, here's what she said. “Hi, Chenjerai. Yesterday I asked you to make 200 Gilmore Girls Thanksgiving Day special DVDs, but the Excel spreadsheet that you made ordered more than that.” “Okay, how many more?” “1 million Gilmore Girls Thanksgiving Day special DVDs. Can you explain that, please?” “I could. I have no idea how to use Microsoft Excel. [audience laughter] I lied about my skills to get this job. [audience laughter] My solution to the first two problems has been when in doubt, hit enter.” 

 

What I'm trying to explain to you is on December 21st, 2007 at 2:15 PM, my life sucked. And it didn't just suck because I had a job that I was no good at and that few people wanted, it sucked because only two years ago I had a job that I was very good at and that everyone wanted. I was a full-time hip hop artist. You see, in 1995, four friends and I decided that the music industry was missing something. What the game needed was a group that was the Fugees, but not quite as talented. [audience laughter] Kind of like The Roots, but not quite as creative. So, we formed the Spooks. After years of grinding out demos and everybody telling us we were never going to make it, we finally did the impossible. We came up to New York and we signed a record deal. 

 

One day the CEO of our record label called us into his office. And his assistant said we should brace ourselves, because he was very excited. “Spooks,” he likes saying that. A little too much for a white guy, in my opinion. [audience laughter] “I figured out how we're all going to make millions, and it comes down to two words, Laurence Fishburne.” I was like, “Wait a minute, you mean like the movie star Laurence Fishburne? Apocalypse Now Laurence Fishburne? Morpheus, The Matrix, Laurence Fishburne?” 

 

According to our CEO, the Laurence Fishburne had agreed to make our song, the main theme song of the first film he ever directed. All we had to do was go to dinner with him and solidify the deal. No problem. Went up to New York, waited out in front of a restaurant, and sure enough, the Laurence Fishburne pulled up on a scooter. [audience laughter] Not only did he agree to put our song in his film, but he agreed to be in our music video. Awesome. 

 

So, like many genius artists before us, Jimi Hendrix, James Baldwin, the Spice Girls, we blew up in Europe first. We got a gold album in the UK, then we got a gold single in France, then we got a gold single in Belgium, we got a gold single in Sweden. I was telling this to a friend of mine the other day, bragging. And he was like, “Wait a minute. Doesn't it only take 3,000 albums to gold in Belgium?” “Yeah, that's true. But how many gold albums you got? Fuck you. Don't be a hater, man.” [audience laughter] We were top 10. You know what I'm saying? We were top 10 all over Europe. You know what I mean? That meant we did all the TV shows, we did like Viva, MTV, Jools Holland, Top of the Pops, you name it. 

 

We were flying all over doing concerts like Glastonbury, Leeds, Ross killed the all those shows. I finally felt like we had made it when one day my manager told me we had a problem. We had to do two shows in two different countries on the same day. The solution was simple. Sony rented a private jet. 8 o’clock show in Berlin, 11:30 show in London. 

 

And as we were flying across Europe from one set of screaming fans to another in a private jet drinking specially procured Scandinavian pear ciders, I was sitting next to a record exec that I felt like was becoming my friend. Because a lot of people around us at this time just were telling us what we wanted to hear. They had a financial incentive to do that, but this person was somebody I felt like, I'm starting to trust. So, I was like, “Susan, I got an idea. When we finish touring, let's just meet up somewhere in Europe, like all of us. In fact, maybe we could make it like a yearly thing. Just like pick a place in Europe, somewhere in the world and just kick it.” 

 

We had been laughing up to that point. But suddenly, she got really serious and she took my hand and she said, “Listen, Chenjerai, I have to be honest with you. I don't know where you're going to be next year. Enjoy it while it lasts.” She knocked the wind out of me with that one. “What do you mean we're going to be making music next year? We're good at this and people like our songs. I like doing this. I thought we were finally part of the club. Look at this private jet. Look at these specially procured Scandinavian parasites.” [audience laughter] 

 

But she was right. Two months later, a marketing exec called us into his office and said that due to a poorly chosen third single, they had run out of money to promote our album and it was over. I moved to Los Angeles, I got married and eventually, I found myself in a cubicle producing Gilmore Girls DVDs. But even then, I felt like I still had a foot in the game. I think my wife felt the same way, because she was like, “Honey, I have a job for you where you work with some celebrities. Are you interested?” And I was like, “Of course.” But if I'm going to be around my people, I'm probably going to need to go shopping. 

 

She reached in her purse, pulled out the JCPenney card. She was like, “Get a suit. Not the most expensive one. You'll be working security.” Fair enough. I went to the gig. Now, this was a gathering of the black filmmaking elite. You know, Spike Lee was there, Tyler Perry was there. Yeah, the whole cast from The Wire was there. And then, coming out of a limousine was the Laurence Fishburne. Now, I'm not going to lie. At that point, people weren't treating me as a security guard too well, but I was like, “Now, they're going to learn.” You know what I'm saying? 

 

I didn't just get Laurence Fishburne's autograph. He was in my video. But as he got closer, I started to second guess myself a little bit. I was like, “Wait a minute. What if he wants me to go in? I can't. I'm working. How am I going to explain that?” Actually, I was like, “He's not going to ask me to go in.” I'm sitting here in a JCPenney suit. I didn't even have dress socks on. I had sweat socks on. And come to think of it, I haven't even made music in months or whatever. You know what I mean? I'm not an artist really anymore. I'm not in the rap game. I make Gilmore Girls DVDs, and I'm not even good at that. 

 

I got more and more nervous. As he got closer, I just second guessed myself. And when he got right next to me, I actually turned my head because I just didn't want to have to explain what my situation was. I don't know if I felt more depressed or relieved at that moment. 

 

A few weeks later, I interviewed for a job as an administrative assistant. Now, this firm was in a cramped office, dimly lit, the kind of place where there's just insidious pop music leaking out of the radio, but nobody hears it because they're hopelessly staring into their computer screens. I was hopelessly staring at my resume, trying to figure out how I was going to explain these gaps in it and why a hip hop artist was really excited about being a full-time administrative assistant. As I was listening to the music, suddenly, it started to sound familiar. And then, I recognize that song. I was like, “Wait a minute, I wrote that song. [audience laughter] That's Things I've Seen. That's the song that did it for us.”

 

One of the employees looked at a coworker and coworker was like, “Yo, remember this song Things I've Seen? I fucking love that shit. The song was hot.” I got excited, like maybe somebody was going to recognize me. I started looking around, but no one recognized me. And that's okay. I think that was the point. What I always loved about making music, was that you don't have to be a big important person to make compelling songs that can reach out and touch somebody. I didn't have to suffocate trying to pretend to be some rock star that hangs out with Laurence Fishburne to keep doing that. I also realized in that moment that maybe I have more to offer the world than Excel spreadsheets. I was looking for a third door where I could do what I wanted and at the same time, I could make opportunities for other people to make music. 

 

I found that door when I was offered the opportunity to run a studio for an incredible nonprofit organization called Street Poets. Street Poets takes marginalized youth and helps develop them into artists and teachers and healers. While I was working as street poets, I was able to get my PhD and become a professor of media studies. And now, sometimes when I'm sitting in my office, my students just come in and they're so excited to tell me about their dreams and their fears. I know I should tell them, like, “Listen, y'all, it's hard out there. Life kicks your ass. Play it safe.” But I never do. I tell them, “Go for it. Enjoy it while it lasts. But brace yourself, because when it doesn't, sometimes you got to figure out who you're not, so you can become who you are.” Thank you.