Interview: Linqua Franqa
Under the moniker Linqua Franqa, Mariah Parker spits rhymes with purpose.
Drawing from a deep well of political angst, the Athens, Ga.-based rapper released their excellent sophomore album, Bellringer, in April. Touching upon such important topics as exploitative labor practices, police brutality, and mental health, the record serves as an urgent call to action from a rising political activist.
Serving as an Athens-Clarke County Commissioner since 2018, Parker has recently experienced first-hand the challenges of enacting change and the consequences of being a progressive figure in the public spotlight. The impassioned songs convey those experiences and the fire driving them. On Bellringer highlight, “The Tree,” Parker reflects upon death threats they’ve received, while “Wurk” provides an anthem for organizing labor unions. And not only is Bellringer one of the year’s most vital records, it’s also the rapper’s doctorate dissertation — Parker is steps away from earning their PhD in Language and Literacy Education from the University of Georgia.
Parker, who earned their undergraduate degree at nearby Warren Wilson College in 2012, will be returning to Asheville on Saturday, May 21, with a Linqua Franqa set at Static Age Records. Kind enough to share thoughts about Bellringer, Athens, and the universality of hip-hop, Parker spoke with Asheville Stages earlier this week.
Jonny Leather: How does it feel to return to Asheville?
Mariah Parker: It always feels restorative to come home to the place where I first learned to freestyle and first started participating in poetry slams (and winning a few), not to mention seeing all the people here I cherish and look up to like Kim Roney (on the politics side) and Mallory Nuckols (for visual art) — and of course, on the rap side of things, the big homie Musashi Xero!
JL: What was it like working with such a diverse array of collaborators on Bellringer?
MP: The lyrical content stretches what we know Blackness, queerness, politicians, academics, [and] hip-hoppers to be, I hope, and so it was important to me, on this album, to stretch the boundaries of what hip-hop can sound like. There's a lot of nostalgia for me in these collabs — Kevin Barnes’ on “Oh Fxck” takes me back to my bug-eyed excitement at opening for him in 2017, or hearing Sunlandic Twins for the first time as a teenager; Jeff Rosenstock has tapped me to rap on several episodes of Craig of the Creek, which he writes music for, and having him on here felt like the deepening of a tenuous and but warm friendship-from-a-distance. Together it all subtly kind of traces the many unexpected places my music career has taken me.
JL: It’s my understanding that Bellringer also functioned as your doctorate dissertation. How has it been received by your peers in the field of language and literacy education?
MP: It's hard to say — I started writing these answers because I'm procrastinating on prep for formally presenting the dissertation to my advisory committee for the first time...in less than 12 hours, eek! But if it goes over well, the Static Age show will be my first as Linqua Franqa, PhD. Thus far, they have been super super supportive, I will say, and I'm unspeakably grateful for that.
JL: The lyrics of “The Tree” are particularly intense. Has your rising political profile put a target on your back?
MP: I've had all kinds of death threats over the years. Just last week, a white SUV followed my roommate to our house at 3 a.m., [and] sat behind her with the headlights on ‘til she got out, at which point they quickly drove away — presumably because she wasn't who they were looking for. I don't feel much as I write that, because it's just the kind of thing that happens every once in a while. That's what “The Tree” is about — accepting that this comes with the turf and finding an eerie beauty in sharing that struggle with everyone who's ever fought for liberation.
JL: What role did your involvement in the Athens music community play in your rise as a community organizer and activist?
MP: Everything. I learned a lot of my political skills — organizing events, speaking to crowds, putting on for my people in rap battles (or debates at City Hall) — from hosting and performing at hip-hop shows. As well, I learned so much about our shared struggles from the artists that I played with and started understanding these struggles as political outcomes, which informed the kind of policies I fight for today.
JL: When did you realize that hip-hop could be a route through which you could successfully synthesize your creative writing skills and political/social angst?
MP: I had a nasty break up in 2015, whereafter I was like, “I'm gonna become a whole new self — a hip-hop artist — or I'm gonna die. These are my options.” As I wrote about and performed my social angst, again, I began to see it as a political outcome. Serving in office during the pandemic and the Uprising definitely inspired a more purposefully political turn on Bellringer, though, as I started processing collective hardship — not just personal ones — and explicitly connecting the personal and the political.
JL: Hip-hop has become a vital avenue of expression, not just in America but worldwide. What do you think propelled it to become such a universal musical language?
MP: Hip-hop, at its genesis, came from the concrete. People made art with what they had, which seemed like very little. They spray-painted underpasses, breakdanced on flattened cardboard, spun disco breaks on homemade sound systems they'd reassembled from parts laying around. I think that the spirit of making something from nothing lends hip-hop a unique accessibility — you don't have to have taken piano when you were seven, you don't need stage lights in a giant concert hall; you just need some percussion, your body, a street corner, and your words.
IF YOU GO
Who: Linqua Franqa + Mad Mike + Musashi Xero + DJ Ek Balam
When: Saturday, May 21, 8 p.m.
Where: Static Age Records, 110 N Lexington Ave., facebook.com/static.agerecords.7
Tickets: $12
(Photos by Sean Dunn)
