There's Not Much That W. Ellington Felton Won't Write, Rap, Sing, or Play. Good Thing He's Great at All of It.
It's lucky W. Ellington Felton's parents never told him to choose an occupation and stick to it. Otherwise, he might not have found his callings. Washington-born Felton "dabbles" proficiently in theater, hip-hop, soul music, poetry, and even T-shirt design. He has the confidence to pretty much tackle anything. "I don't really play piano, but I do," Felton says. "I play stuff by ear. My attention span is fucked, but if I sat down for six months and learned how to play the piano, it'd be a wrap."
At 27, Felton is a creative powerhouse. He's published two books of poetry, given notable theater performances, played the Kennedy Center and New York's Nuyorican Poets Café, and appeared in a Spike Lee-sponsored film short. Next year he'll be coming to the silver screen--for a few seconds, anyway--as an extra in the Nicolas Cage film National Treasure. Musically, he takes on several incarnations: a solo artist, an extended family member of soul band Urban Ave. 31, and one half of Crossrhodes, a duo he formed in 1999 with the then-unknown Urban Ave. 31 songwriter Raheem DeVaughn.
Felton was studying theater at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh when he first started recording music. When he found that post-college productions weren't overflowing with roles for black actors, he turned to DJing and, finally, to performing as a musician.
Listening to Felton's songs is like cozying up to the bar next to a rambling yet intriguing stranger who's offered to buy a round for anyone who'll listen to his sordid stories. "The reason I write certain songs the way I do is because I was raised by my mom, and women are my favorite thing in the world," he says. "They drive me fuckin' crazy, but I looove them." These days, the new dad is getting grown with his MC, as he calls the mother of his child. "I find myself talking positively about my son's mother if I bring her up in a song," he says. "I don't want him to hear me talk bad to his mother in person or on a record."
His 2000 album Soul Sonnets--which he describes as "Shakespeare meets Ebonics"--and the 2002 Crossrhodes album Limited Budget, Unlimited Quality, are revered as underground classics. Earlier this year, Felton released Project Zero, a futuristic hip-hop prequel, and more recently Blutopia, a dizzying collection of experimental compositions, ranging from drum 'n' bass to bossa nova.
The fodder for Blutopia is his usual: love, fakery, the starving artist's life, and the crummy state of the world. "My rap/ Involves poetry, philosophy, godly ideology" is just one of the choppy Common/ Bonita Applebum pickup lines he spits on "Makin' Me." He renders a melancholy remake of Prince's "Strange Relationships" on a hidden track. He gets snarky on the Revenge of the Nerds anthem "Definition One," and waxes political under the guise of a dreamy lounge track on "Noitulover" ("revolution" spelled backward).
The conundrum for Felton's fans is that they don't know what to call him. Just when you've decided that he's a rapper, he starts singing--but not in the way that you simply tolerate or try to tune out, like when Ja Rule throws down a chorus. There's something interesting, even soothing, in his drowsy, off-kilter baritone. "Fortunately, nobody comes up and says, 'Your shit is whack,'" he says. "They might be thinking it, though. Sometimes when I think something is whack, everybody likes it."
Though Felton is staunchly independent, he doesn't mind that his buddy DeVaughn has signed with Jive Records. The two hooked up in 1999, when Felton hired DeVaughn's rock band to perform at a music showcase he was hosting. "I was happy when Raheem got signed," Felton says. "I thought it was great that the world would now begin to really know him. I'm not really into the industry thing. Raheem has tougher skin, as far as playing the game. Me, I'm the poor sport. I'll end up getting physically removed from industry events."
But Felton shops the record labels anyway, just to see if his dream deal exists. "The situation I've searched out is where I'm bringing a little bit more to the table," he says. He cites people such as Master P, E-40, Too Short, and Cash Money Millionaires, who sold enough CDs out of their trunks to warrant major labels' attention but held on to their creative control. "But that goes to show what people will put money behind, in terms of subject matter. They won't necessarily give it to artists like me or Raheem who have some shit to say, too. You give me a half a million dollars, I'll make that shit look like $2 million." Felton has produced everything thus far on a zero budget. "Imagine if someone gave us just $5,000," he says.
Last month, Felton found himself in a familiar situation, on a concert bill with two national artists. "Someone came up to me and said, 'Why they got you headlining that show and they don't play you on the radio, but they play the other artists on the radio?'" But what people who've never seen his show don't realize is that Felton is a Svengali onstage. Through animated performances, he connects with people and draws them deep into his bar-stool confessionals. After his performance, he sold out of every T-shirt and CD available.
"I wanted to show people what's necessary and what's unnecessary when it comes to music," he says. "If people still come to see me who may have never seen me before, I have faith in myself that my music is gonna come across in a way that they will embrace it, and then they'll buy the record."
Felton has a few other means of exposure. Through his friendship with Prince Paul, his folk-hop tune "Beautifully Absurd" appeared on Paul's 2003 album Politics of the Business. The two met when Felton gave the stranded Paul a ride to his D.C. hotel after a show. Now Paul regularly cameos on Felton's projects. "He's always telling me how much he's in my corner," Felton says. "He made me not want to quit."
Felton is concerned with encouraging artists as well. He includes unknown artists on the mix CDs he sells at D.C.'s Bar Nun, where he DJs on Friday nights. "Since independent cats can't afford to press vinyl, I play the stuff off of CD," Felton says. "In the long run, it helps me out. I'm programming people to open their ears up to new shit. Other shit, besides what they're being force-fed."
Posted 11.18.2009 9:14 PM
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great story! well written!