Despite the atrocious album cover, M.I.A.'s Kala is fantastic. It's also as complicated as Maya Arulpragasam is herself. It transcends genres, going from world music to hip-hop to electronica. It's political, bashing the West at the same time it asks for acceptance. The production is huge, at times sampling Bollywood and disco in the backing tracks, juxtaposing gun shots and cash register ca-chings, and featuring guest spots from Afrikan Boy and Timbaland. It's tough, natch, to categorize M.I.A. and her music; her American audience is more indie-rock inclined, probably because, compared to other hip-hop artists, her themes are so political and worldly. Seeing her last month in Chicago was surprising; I'll be the first to admit I don't see many hip-hop shows, and, as I expected, the mostly-white audience seemed to be filled with people who would be just as likely to attend any other indie-rock show. Her following aside, M.I.A. manages to produce post-Colonialist hip-hop, finally making Edward Said's Orientalism relevant to a jaded, superficially political hipster culture.
