SOUND PROJECTIONS
AN ONLINE QUARTERLY MUSIC MAGAZINE
EDITOR: KOFI NATAMBU
FALL, 2021
VOLUME TEN NUMBER THREE
NANCY WILSON
Featuring the Musics and Aesthetic Visions of:
NANCY WILSON DONALD HARRISON
(October 2-8)
CHICO FREEMAN
(October 9-15)
BEN WILLIAMS
(October 16-22)
MISSY ELLIOTT
(October 23-29)
SHEMEKIA COPELAND
(October 30-November 5)
VON FREEMAN
(November 6-12)
DAVID BAKER
(November 13-19)
RUTHIE FOSTER
(November 20-26)
VICTORIA SPIVEY
(November 27-December 3)
ANTONIO HART
(December 4-10)
GEORGE ‘HARMONICA’ SMITH
(December 11-17)
JAMISON ROSS
(December 18-24)
https://www.allmusic.com/artist/missy-elliott-mn0000502371/biography
Missy Elliott
(b. July 1, 1971)
Artist Biography by Andy Kellman
Few artists have had the cultural impact of Missy Elliott, her visionary presence as both a producer and an artist reshaping the entirety of rap and R&B that followed her. From worldwide breakthrough-producing hits for artists like Aaliyah and Tweet to Grammy Award-winning solo albums, Elliott put her stamp on the music industry at large throughout the late '90s and 2000s. Even when slowing down on her solo output in the 2010s, Elliott continued working as a producer, and her watershed albums like 1997's Supa Dupa Fly and 2002's Under Construction changed the course of commercial rap and R&B for years to come.
Born in Portsmouth, Virginia, in 1971, Melissa Arnette Elliott began her professional career when Jodeci's DeVante Swing signed her group Sista (previously Fayze) to his Elektra-affiliated Swing Mob label. Elliott, who was also part of the Swing Mob collective behind the scenes, subsequently left her first Billboard chart impression in 1993 as the co-writer, co-producer, and featured vocalist on Raven-Symoné's number 68 pop hit "That's What Little Girls Are Made Of." The following year, "Brand New," a Sista single written and fronted by Elliott, touched number 84 on the R&B/hip-hop chart. Its parent album, 4 All the Sistas Around da World, was shelved in the U.S., but Elliott shrewdly remained beside fellow Swing Mob member Timbaland and worked extensively with him on Aaliyah's 1996 album One in a Million, the source of the chart-topping singles "One in a Million" and "If Your Girl Only Knew." The move proved to be key, as the album racked up enormous sales and led to sessions with other artists and a recording contract with Elektra. Her debut as Missy Misdemeanor Elliott, Supa Dupa Fly, hit the streets in 1997 and went platinum within two months. Along with name-making tracks such as "Sock It 2 Me," "The Rain," and "Beep Me 911," it contained an astounding crop of album tracks that naturally emphasized Elliott's versatility. By the end of the '90s, Elliott added to her list of production and songwriting feats with hits like Nicole's "Make It Hot," Total's "Trippin," and 702's "Where My Girls At?" as well as work for Fantasia, Monica, Tweet and others.
Into the mid-2000s, as a steady succession of emerging and established artists was boosted by her songwriting and production, Elliott released five additional albums that, like Supa Dupa Fly, went double platinum. Da Real World, her much-awaited second album, was even more ambitious than her debut, featured appearances from Aaliyah, Eminem, and Beyoncé, and included her first headlining Top Ten pop hit, "Hot Boyz," also her first solo platinum single. Around this time, her mainstream status was further affirmed with appearances in television ads for clothing and soft drink brands. The cycle repeated itself in 2001 with Miss E...So Addictive, powered by the nutty "Get Ur Freak On." Another Top Ten smash, the song was a Grammy winner in the category of Best Rap Solo Performance, the same year Elliott's work on a cover of Labelle's "Lady Marmalade" was acknowledged with the award for Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals. Elliott's winning streak continued a year later with album four, Under Construction, and its hits "Work It" and "Gossip Folks," which were somehow old-school reminiscent and alien-futuristic at once. The former hit made Elliott a repeat Best Rap Solo Performance winner. Her music machine continued to pummel the charts with This Is Not a Test! in 2003 and The Cookbook in 2005, full-lengths that didn't require event-level singles to sell over two million copies each. Respect M.E., a straightforward anthology, was released in 2006 in several territories outside the U.S. Multiple discs showcasing her songwriting and production work could have been assembled around the same time. By the end of the 2000s, in fact, she had added Tweet's "Oops (Oh My)," Ciara's "1, 2 Step," Fantasia's "Free Yourself," and Jazmine Sullivan's "Need U Bad" to her ever-lengthening list of hits.
The seventh Missy Elliott studio album, tentatively titled Block Party, remained elusive for over a decade. Elliott revealed in 2011 that she had been living with Graves' disease, a thyroid disorder that kept her from the studio. Into the late 2010s, she worked primarily in the background with Keyshia Cole, Jazmine Sullivan, and Monica. Her own releases were sporadic, limited to a handful of tracks highlighted in 2015 by the platinum-certified Pharrell Williams collaboration "WTF (Where They From)." Meanwhile, Elliott performed at some high-profile events, including the halftime show of Super Bowl XLIX and the 2018 Essence Music Festival. After hinting that she'd been working on new material, Elliott released the five-song Iconology EP in August 2019. Though slight, the EP produced several charting singles, including "Cool Off."
https://www.allmusic.com/album/supa-dupa-fly-mw0000594733
Supa Dupa Fly Review
by Steve Huey
AllMusic
Arguably the most influential album ever released by a female hip-hop artist, Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliott's debut album, Supa Dupa Fly, is a boundary-shattering postmodern masterpiece. It had a tremendous impact on hip-hop, and an even bigger one on R&B, as its futuristic, nearly experimental style became the de facto sound of urban radio at the close of the millennium. A substantial share of the credit has to go to producer Timbaland, whose lean, digital grooves are packed with unpredictable arrangements and stuttering rhythms that often resemble slowed-down drum'n'bass breakbeats. The results are not only unique, they're nothing short of revolutionary, making Timbaland a hip name to drop in electronica circles as well. For her part, Elliott impresses with her versatility -- she's a singer, a rapper, and an equal songwriting partner, and it's clear from the album's accompanying videos that the space-age aesthetic of the music doesn't just belong to her producer. She's no technical master on the mic; her raps are fairly simple, delivered in the slow purr of a heavy-lidded stoner. Yet they're also full of hilariously surreal free associations that fit the off-kilter sensibility of the music to a tee. Actually, Elliott sings more on Supa Dupa Fly than she does on her subsequent albums, making it her most R&B-oriented effort; she's more unique as a rapper than she is as a singer, but she has a smooth voice and harmonizes well. Guest rappers Busta Rhymes, Lil' Kim, and da Brat all appear on the first three tracks, which almost pulls focus away from Elliott until she unequivocally takes over with the brilliant single "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)"; elsewhere, "Sock It 2 Me," "Beep Me 911," and the weeded-out "Izzy Izzy Ahh" nearly match its genius. Elliott and Timbaland would continue to refine and expand this blueprint, sometimes with even greater success, but Supa Dupa Fly contains the roots of everything that followed.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supa_Dupa_Fly
Supa Dupa Fly
Supa Dupa Fly is the debut studio album by American rapper Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliott, released July 15, 1997 on The Goldmind and Elektra Records. The album was recorded and produced solely by Timbaland in October 1996, and features the singles, "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)", "Sock It 2 Me", "Hit Em wit da Hee" and "Beep Me 911". Guest appearances on the album include Busta Rhymes, Ginuwine, 702, Magoo, Da Brat, Lil' Kim, and Aaliyah. The album was recorded in just two weeks.[3]
The album received acclaim from critics, who praised Timbaland's futuristic production style and Elliott's performances and persona. It debuted at number three on the US Billboard 200 and topped the US Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart. The album was certified platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) and has sold 1.2 million copies in the United States.
In 2020, the album was ranked 93 on Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.[4]
Background and recording
While in high school, Elliott formed a group called Fayze—later to be renamed Sista—with three of her friends.[5][6] The group attracted the attention of record producer DeVante Swing, who was part of the R&B group Jodeci. After being signed the Swing Mob record label, Sista recorded an album in New York, but the album was never released. This led to subsequent termination of Sista's recording contract. Elliott returned to Portsmouth, Virginia, where she and record producer Timbaland began writing songs and contributed to singer Aaliyah's album One in a Million. In 1996, Elliott was signed to Elektra Records and was given her own record label, The Goldmind Inc.. Chairmen and chief executive officer (CEO) of Elektra at the time, Sylvia Rhone encouraged Elliott to embark in a solo career.[5] Recording sessions of the Supa Dupa Fly took place at the Master Sound Studios in Virginia Beach, Virginia.[7] The album was produced solely by Timbaland.[5]
The first single released from the album was "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)".[8] As part of the promotional drive for her album, Elliott took part of the 1998 Lilith Fair tour; she became the first female rapper to perform at the event.[9] She also joined rapper Jay-Z's Rock the Mic tour.[9]
Musical content
Supa Dupa Fly brings together elements of hip hop, dance, R&B, electronic music, and soul.[10][11] Music critic Garry Mulholland described Timbaland's production as "eschewing samples for a bump 'n' grind electronica, strongly influenced by the digital rhythms of dancehall reggae, but rounder, fuller, fatter".[12] AllMusic described it as consisting of “lean, digital grooves [...] packed with unpredictable arrangements and stuttering rhythms that often resemble slowed-down drum'n'bass breakbeats."[10] Elliott's raps were described as “full of hilariously surreal free associations that fit the off-kilter sensibility of the music to a tee.”[10] According to author Mickey Hess, the album's lyrical content "reveals Elliott's complex, creative, and challenging discussion about womanhood; her demand for respect, respect for her personal voice and her desire for fulfilling intimacy with lovers and friends".[13] The album's opening track, "Busta's Intro", features rapper Busta Rhymes as a town crier warning of a "historical event about to unfold".[13] "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)" contains a sample of Ann Peebles' 1973 song "I Can't Stand the Rain".[14] "Pass da Blunt" is partly based on the song "Pass the Dutchie" by Musical Youth. The track "Bite Our Style (Interlude)" samples the song "Morning Glory" by Jamiroquai.[15]
Upon its release, Supa Dupa Fly received acclaim among music critics. Writers lauded record producer Timbaland's production as unique and revolutionary. AllMusic called the album a “boundary-shattering postmodern masterpiece” whose “futuristic, nearly experimental style became the de facto sound of urban radio at the close of the millennium.”[10] Elliott's rapping, singing and songwriting also received much acclaim. The 2004 edition of The Rolling Stone Album Guide rated the album five out of five stars, noting that the avant-garde sound of the album "made Elliott and Timbaland the hottest writer/producer team around".[22] Mulholland called the album a "key prophecy of the dominant 21st century black pop", noting Elliott's ability to "avoid the whole east vs. west, playas vs. gangstas mess." He described Elliott's style as "everything the hip hop doctor ordered; a woman who could flip between aggression and romance, sex and nonsense, materialism and imagination, without batting one outrageously spidery eyelash".[12]
With the release of Supa Dupa Fly, Elliott became one of the most prominent female rappers.[25] The album is credited for redefining hip hop and R&B.[10] Steve Huey of AllMusic felt that the album was "arguably the most influential album ever released by a female hip-hop artist".[10] Spin magazine ranked the album at number nine on its Top 20 Albums of the Year.[13] In 1998, four out of five music critics from The New York Times ranked the album as one of their top ten favorite albums of 1997.[26] The album earned Elliott two Grammy Award nominations: Best Rap Album and Best Rap Solo Performance for "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)".[13]
All tracks produced by Timbaland.
2. "Hit Em wit da Hee" (featuring Lil' Kim)
Elliott
Timothy Mosley
Kimberly Jones
Alicia Richards 4:19
3. "Sock It 2 Me" (featuring Da Brat)
Elliott
Mosley
William Hart
Thom Bell
Shawntae Harris 4:17
4. "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)"
Elliott
Mosley
Ann Peebles
Bernard Miller
Don Bryant 4:11
5. "Beep Me 911" (featuring 702 & Magoo)
Elliott
Mosley
Melvin Barcliff 4:57
6. "They Don't Wanna Fuck wit Me" (featuring Timbaland)
Elliott
Mosley 3:18
7. "Pass da Blunt" (featuring Timbaland)
Elliott
Mosley
Jackie Mittoo
Lloyd Ferguson
Felix Headley Bennett
Huford Brown
Robbie Lyn
Leroy Sibbles
Fitzroy Simpson 3:17
8. "Bite Our Style (Interlude)"
Elliott
Mosley 0:43
9. "Friendly Skies" (featuring Ginuwine)
Elliott
Mosley 4:59
10. "Best Friends" (featuring Aaliyah)
Elliott
Mosley 4:07
11. "Don't Be Commin' (In My Face)"
Elliott
Mosley 4:11
12. "Izzy Izzy Ahh"
Elliott
Mosley 3:54
13. "Why You Hurt Me"
Elliott
Mosley
Eddie Floyd 4:31
14. "I'm Talkin'"
Elliott
Mosley 5:02
15. "Gettaway" (featuring Space and Nicole Wray)
Elliott
Mosley
Tracey Selden
Lashone Siplin 4:25
16. "Busta's Outro" (featuring Busta Rhymes)
Smith
Mosley 1:38
17. "Missy's Finale" Elliott 0:24
Personnel
Credits for Supa Dupa Fly adapted from AllMusic.[31]
702 – vocals, performer
Aaliyah – vocals, performer
Kwaku Alston – photography
Starr Foundation/Romon Yang - Art Direction
Gregory Burke – design
Busta Rhymes – vocals, rap, performer
Richard Clark – assistant engineer
Nicole - vocals, performer
Drew Coleman – assistant engineer
Da Brat – vocals, performer
Jimmy Douglas – engineer, audio mixing
Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliott – vocals, rap, executive producer
Ginuwine – vocals, performer
Lil' Kim – performer
Magoo – rap
Bill Pettaway – bass, guitar
Herb Powers – mastering
Timbaland – vocals, producer, performer, executive producer, mixing
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1997/10/20/the-new-negro
Missy Elliott’s Hip-Hop
I first met Missy Elliott last June, in the waiting room at WPGC-FM, a D.C. soul station. She was there to promote the release of her début solo album, “Supa Dupa Fly,” and, in characteristic Missy Elliott fashion, she had dressed for the occasion—in a red-and-yellow baseball jersey, bright-yellow vinyl overalls, a bright-yellow vinyl jacket, and brown Timberland boots. Her hair was styled in crisp finger waves close to her head, like tiny black ribbons, and her fingernails, two inches long, were varnished white. But there was no publicist or receptionist to greet her. On the wall above the reception desk were a number of shabby, poster-size black-and-white photographs of the station’s disk jockeys, their hair and teeth celebrity-bright, which did nothing to dispel the forlorn atmosphere. She looked around and reduced the dim room and the station’s lack of amenities to a weary expletive: “Damn.”
Missy had arrived with three people in tow: her cousin Malik, who is as tall and lanky as Missy is short and round; Rene McLean, a rap promoter from the Elektra Entertainment Group; and Keisha, a pretty young black woman who is a third of the girl group Total. As is often the case in Missy’s professional circle, exactly who was promoting whom wasn’t initially clear.
WPGC was Missy’s final guest appearance that day; earlier, she had publicized her album at three record stores and another radio station in the Washington area, and she had been greeted in all those places with considerable fanfare. (“Yo, it was dope,” Keisha said, chewing gum as she smiled her most seductive girl-group smile.) In an effort to generate a little of that excitement at WPGC, Missy dispatched Rene to find Tigger, the host of the program she was supposed to appear on. Then she announced that Keisha would be interviewed on Tigger’s show, too: less airtime for “Supa Dupa Fly,” maybe, but more exposure for another Missy project: she had co-produced and co-written a number of tracks on Total’s yet-to-be-released album.
Malik returned with Tigger, and in short order Missy, sitting opposite Keisha in the control booth, was introducing her to WPGC’s listening audience. She then took calls from her fans—whom she addressed as Baby, Boo, or Go-Go Head—while autographing her way through a stack of eight-by-ten black-and-white glossies. Even four months ago—before she appeared on David Letterman, before the MTV Video Music Awards, before her record went gold—Missy’s unorthodox blend of personal confidence, professional generosity, and entrepreneurial spirit were in ample evidence. After signing off, Missy talked about the lyrics she’d written for her song “The Rain,” which was already on its way to becoming a hit: “One minute I’m talking about weed, the next minute I’m talking about a man—like that. Closer to life and closer to how my mind works.” She walked into a WPGC conference room and sat down, her oversized yellow overalls ballooning up around her. “I don’t want to be oh-so-brag-about-it, but ‘The Rain’ is hot,” she said with a shy laugh, her almond-shaped eyes closing up tight. Then she made the comment that would become her mantra in the coming weeks: “We give our music a futuristic feel. I don’t make music or videos for 1997—I do it for the year 2000.”
In the nineteen-sixties, when Diana Ross was with the Supremes, she was a superb New Negro. When she sang, she did so much more than just sing: she shrugged her shoulders, bugged her eyes, and bopped her big head on her skinny neck. When she sang “Where Did Our Love Go?” she looked as though she were having a very controlled, elegant freak-out. Then, in the seventies, the Pointer Sisters clunked around in Andrews Sisters wedgies and Ruby Keeler shorts, while waving little American flags and singing riffs from “Swanee” with a great deal of energy and irony. In the eighties, the disco diva Grace Jones not only intoned that she could feel like a woman while “looking like a man” but also, in her extended video “One Man Show,” resurrected Dietrich’s “Blonde Venus” ape suit, with its racist overtones. In 1997, Missy Elliott is the New Negro of hip-hop.
“Women in rap, it’s the same as it ever was—they come and go,” Sharee, a New York d.j., told me. “Back in the day, in the nineteen-eighties, they were cute and sexy. Now they’re cute and sexy and mad about something. They don’t last, because they work one gimmick—their sex appeal—and that doesn’t last long. Think Marilyn Monroe talking in rhyme, and you have a pretty good idea of the way most female rappers go.” But Missy Elliott has not only avoided the prevailing stereotypes of the music-video industry; she has spent the last few months bringing the industry around to her style of dance, costume, and song. “She slowed down rap—she took chances,” Jac Benson, a senior producer at MTV says. “She opened the door for other sounds.” As for Missy’s lyrics, they are about her internal world—not the material world of money, jewels, and men—and in her video she has managed to catapult herself beyond the clichéd horny-boy images of girls in Jacuzzis chugalugging champagne. Instead, she has capitalized on the hip aesthetic that Sly Stone founded in the late nineteen-sixties, when he developed a persona that managed to retain a hard-edged black sound without making white listeners feel hopelessly unhip. Missy told me that she wants her work to show “where black folks are from, and where we’re going.”
In the video “The Rain,” her hair, which fits her like a cap, is reminiscent of the marcelled coiffure that Duke Ellington sported in the forties and fifties. In some shots, she wears an inflated black patent-leather suit and black sunglasses attached to a rhinestone headpiece—a look that the Whitney Museum curator Thelma Golden has described as “cyber mammy.” In another sequence, she moves toward the camera wearing a lime-green outfit and oversized yellow-framed glasses, jerking her arms up and down and proclaiming, “I’m supa dupa fly!” Missy’s little dance looks like an accelerated version of Walter Brennan’s “dead bee” hop-and-skip walk in “To Have and Have Not.” In another shot, her lips and eyes are “morphed,” or enlarged. Features once made grotesque by racist caricaturists are celebrated by this New Negro: exaggerations of physiognomy are an aspect of her style.
In another “Rain” clip, Missy is chanting—her warm, rich voice layered against the song’s background track, the soul classic “I Can’t Stand the Rain”—“I feel the wind / Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten / Nine, ten / Begin / I sit on hills like Lauryn until the rain starts comin’ down, pourin’.” Sitting on a near-psychedelic grassy knoll and running her fingers through a straight-haired wig she’s wearing, she’s a caricature of the Little Bo-Peep white girl. “We wanted to make fun of the ways record companies try to make black women look white,” Missy has said. “Fake hair, fake music.”
Missy conceived of “The Rain” video together with the black music-video director Hype Williams, who has also directed the rap stars Busta Rhymes and the late Tupac Shakur. Both Missy and Williams were aware that for many viewers the video would provide a way into her music. “Videos are the most valuable tool for selling songs,” says Gina Harrell, who heads Elektra’s video-production department. “Until they saw the video, radio programmers didn’t understand ‘The Rain.’ She taught people how to move to the track. And Hype was able to pull out the core of Missy—the performance artist.” It was only after radio programmers and the general public saw Missy dancing that her position as a New Negro icon was established. After all, the idea that “it’s a ten because you can dance to it” didn’t go out with “American Bandstand.” “The Rain” has inspired a score of imitations since its release—some of them directed by Hype Williams himself. “I wanted the video to look avant-garde, so white people could get into it, too,” Missy told me. “And if I lose cool points with other rappers ’cause I don’t want my sound and look to be about one thing, then I lose cool points.”
Melissa Elliot was born in Portsmouth, Virginia, in 1971, two years before “I Can’t Stand the Rain” was first recorded and released. As an only child, Missy, as she was called by her family, amused herself by lining up her dolls—“Baby Alive, G.I. Joe, whatever”—and singing to them. Her parents’ marriage was an unhappy one, and when Missy was fourteen they separated. She and her mother have lived together in Portsmouth ever since.
A solitary and industrious teen-ager, she helped form a singing group with three other neighborhood girls. The group’s first name was Fay Z; then it became Sista. “Missy always wanted to be up there,” her mother, who works as a dispatcher at an electric company, recalls. “As a little girl, she would ask me to bring home stamps, for all these letters she was writing. The letters would be returned, and I’d see that she’d written to Diana Ross, and whatnot.”
Sista began performing at local talent shows and local colleges, and in 1992 attracted the attention of Devante, a member of the popular singing group Jodeci, by waylaying him at a concert. When Devante signed Sista (“We had long-ass weaves, we was a mess,” Missy recalls), Missy was twenty. She and another neighborhood friend, Tim Mosley, who went by the name of Timbaland, had written many of the songs that the group performed. Sista eventually dissolved, but Timbaland and Missy are still partners.
Their songwriting process has been the same for years: first, they create the basic tracks (often incorporating samples from soul classics like “Pass the Dutchie”). “Then I’ll sit down,” Missy says. “He may go to the movies, the mall, or something. And I sing the whole song, background and all.” The work grows out of a variety of musical genres—reggae, rap, R. & B. ballads—but its basis and primary influence is soul music, ranging from Rick James’s “Super Freak” to black-exploitation-movie soundtracks like Curtis Mayfield’s “Superfly.” By 1995, Missy and Timbaland were writing songs for the hottest acts in R. & B., from Aaliyah to Ginuwine, and were on their way to becoming a latter-day Ashford and Simpson.
“When people say the music business, they mean the producer business,” Jac Benson told me. “Producers, not artists, are the ones who really get to control an artist’s over-all sound and message.” And Missy recognized that very early. Unlike most performers, who first struggle to succeed as solo artists before they turn to producing, Missy did the reverse. Her experience with Devante turned out to be a bad one—Sista had made a record and then waited for years, in vain, for it to be released—and she was determined not to repeat it. “I didn’t want to just be an artist and let someone else have all that control over me,” she said. “I knew I would have to produce.”
In fact, Missy’s potential as a solo artist and video presence didn’t become evident until last year, when her now signature “hee haw” rap for Gina Thompson’s remix of “The Things You Do” was showcased in the video. “Gina’s song was the ice-cream sundae,” the hip-hop impresario Fab Five Freddy told me. “Missy’s rap was the cherry on top.” In contrast to the funky bubblegum ballads she’d written for groups like SWV and 702, Missy’s raps were sharp and strong: the woman was always saying what she wanted, and when and where she wanted it. And Missy’s visual impact proved to be as captivating as it was unexpected. “She’s a full-figured black woman,” Freddy continued, “and, let’s face it—a lot of black women look like her. She has Southern sophistication, a country elegance.” But there was also an iconic quality to Missy on video from the beginning; Freddy described her as “the twenty-first-century incarnation of Aunt Jemima; it feels like she’s putting the whole house in order.”
After the Thompson video came out, rap fans began asking for the “hee-hee haw-haw” girl. Missy says that she was approached by companies from Arista Records to Motown, but that they wanted to sign her only as an artist, and she refused. Merlin Bobb and Sylvia Rhone, two senior executives at Elektra, agreed to give her more. “We wanted to set her up in a small situation where she could develop her songwriting and producing abilities,” Bobb explains, “whereas other companies wanted to sign her as an artist and make some fast money.” He adds, “Missy was shocked when she understood that we were interested in her business sense.” In the summer of 1996, Elektra agreed to subsidize a small label called Gold Mind Records, which Missy now oversees. Bobb says that when Missy first joined Elektra she was writing songs for other artists, but that she soon grew confident enough to begin writing songs for herself. In the spring of 1997, she and Timbaland recorded the music and Missy’s vocals for “Supa Dupa Fly” in a week.
On July 22nd, the video of “The Rain” was nominated for three MTV Video Music Awards: Best Rap Video, Best Direction in a Video, and Breakthrough Video. The next day, “Supa Dupa Fly” went gold—No. 3 on Billboard’s pop chart, and No. 1 on its R. & B. chart—thereby reinforcing Elektra’s belief in Missy as a strong, marketable artist. By mid-August, articles had appeared in the Times, the Washington Post, and the business section of the Los Angeles Times. By August 20th, Missy had begun working on a new video of her second single, “Sock It 2 Me,” with Hype Williams.
When I saw Missy at the filming of the video, in a cavernous hangar in Long Island City, she was wearing red superhero boots, white tights, and red Pac-Man arms, and she had a big red “M” emblazoned on her chest: the inspiration for this video, which also featured Da Brat and Lil’ Kim, was Japanese superhero animation. This time, Missy was not only the video’s main attraction but also its co-producer. “Sock It 2 Me” had a nine-hundred-thousand-dollar budget, half of which Missy was personally responsible for—a budget that she hoped would make the video harder to rip off visually. (“If people gonna copy me this time, they gonna have to come out of their pockets,” Missy says.) She is unlike many performers in that her wit and her sense of character go hand in hand with her marketing savvy: her rap on SWV’s “Tonight” begins, “Me and Timbaland / We got the hits from here to overseas for SWV.”
Throughout the day, Missy would look at the playbacks—alone, and then with whoever else wanted to watch. (At one point, the stylist for the shoot, June Ambrose, walked by. Glancing at Missy’s image on the flickering screen, she remarked, “She has lost her mind, and that’s a good thing.”) Missy consulted with Timbaland several times about her performance. She was not concerned with how she looked; rather, she wanted to know whether “Sock It 2 Me” was a suitable follow-up to what she had done before; she wondered out loud if people could “really understand where this Missy thing is going.”
Sylvia Rhone, for one, sees the “Sock It 2 Me” video going in the direction of television: “No one’s really used that Japanimation kind of thing, and I want to take this video and try to sell the concept of these characters—which are played by Missy, Lil’ Kim, and Brat—and do a real special cartoon. Black folks haven’t moved into that genre.”
Rhone was particularly pleased about the coverage that Missy received in the L.A. Times. “I want white America, which is scared of hip-hop artists, to see that some of us are real businesspeople, who command major dollars and a major consumer base, and have more vision than just doing a rap record.” Rhone thinks that Missy’s easygoing manner can be misleading. “If you ran into Missy, you would say, ‘This is a ghetto girl with ghetto curls,’ ” she told me. “Underneath the ‘hee-hee haw-haw,’ she’s one of the sharpest businesswomen I’ve ever come up against.”
And, if Missy wants greater longevity than is usually accorded a rap star, writing and producing under her own label, Gold Mind, may provide it. “I feel like, O.K., if I can make it as a singer, then let me try rapping,” Missy told me. “If I can make it as a rapper, then let me try writing. All right? If I make it as a rap singer and writer, then why not try to produce? I don’t feel limited in any way. There’s that saying ‘God gave you talent, and if you don’t use it He’ll take it away from you.’ And I always said, ‘I don’t want God to come down and take my talents away.’ So, by using all these talents and being successful in all of them, I’ve always got something to fall back on.”
On September 3rd, the night of the rehearsal for the MTV Video Music Awards, Missy Elliott arrived at Radio City Music Hall to perform her rap on Lil’ Kim’s single “Not Tonight,” along with the radio personality Angie Martinez; Left Eye, from TLC; and Da Brat. As usual, she was dressed to thrill, and, as usual, she looked like no one else there. In an industry where, as Missy says, “you either gotta be light-skinned or have long hair” to satisfy a teen-age boy’s video idea of a proper “vide-ho,” Missy Elliott has managed to be something else altogether. Before her “Supa Dupa Fly” success, she had the feeling that people “might not like me hopping around,” she recalls. “You wouldn’t see me in one of those model magazines unless it was, like, Healthy Woman. But I’m cool.”
Lil’ Kim’s number was to have an Egyptian theme: Lil’ Kim, Left Eye, and Angie would be dressed in Nefertiti-like costumes; Da Brat would be dressed as a Roman gladiator. They all assembled on the stage and, silhouetted against a big-screen projection of a pyramid, began working out various moves with the choreographer. Unlike the other participants, Missy would be entering the act from the audience, dressed as herself—as though her fellow-entertainers were her bitches. While the women gyrated and gestured onstage, Missy sat with her cousin Malik, drinking a large bottle of soda pop and looking apprehensive. This would be her first live television performance. It was a far cry from singing in hair extensions and Jordache jeans at the local high school in Portsmouth. Billy B., Missy’s makeup person, had been eavesdropping when her mother beeped her a few days earlier: “I could hear Missy say, ‘Now, Ma, please don’t come to the awards. I’ll be too nervous to perform—it’s the white people’s awards, Ma. Very important.’ ”
But when it came time for Missy to walk the length of the aisle doing her little Walter Brennan dance, her nervousness seemed to vanish. A number of MTV staff members, publicists, and managers representing other artists moved to seats at the front of the stage in order to have a clear view. Hop-skipping down the aisle toward her sister rappers, Missy carried a mike in one hand and made flapping gestures with her other, saying, “Yo, yo, Kim, you not gonna get me on this song just singing hooks. What I look like—Patti LaBelle or something?” Then Lil’ Kim giggled her peroxide giggle as Missy engulfed her in a tight embrace.
Each time they ran through Lil’ Kim’s number, Missy performed her part of the song differently. Sometimes she added an extra “yo,” or she made a little “tiki tiki” sound between the “yo”s, like an urban voodoo priest bent over a cauldron. One time when she said, “Oh, what a night,” at the song’s conclusion, she conveyed a certain flirtatiousness; another time she conveyed boredom. Unlike the majority of rappers, who try to approximate in their live performances the exact sounds and movements they’ve used in their videos for easy audience identification, Missy approaches rapping the way jazz musicians approach jazz—as an improvisational musical form. It was only after the rehearsal was over—when the others had wandered off and she stood alone on that vast and unfamiliar stage, blowing kisses and mouthing “Thank you”s to a nonexistent audience—that one remembered how astonishing it was that such a newcomer had performed there in the first place.
A week later, on September 10th, Missy was in a dressing room on the sixth floor of the Ed Sullivan Theatre, at Broadway and Fifty-third Street, getting ready to perform “The Rain” on the “Late Show with David Letterman.” Missy had never been on a late-night show before, and, while the invitation was a welcome indication of her recent crossover success, she did not have a clear idea of who, precisely, Letterman was. “I never catch the show,” she said. “What does he do up there?”
That afternoon, during Missy’s pre-taping rehearsal, Letterman’s technical staff had been plagued by a similar question: What, exactly, were Missy and her entourage planning to do up there? She was singing with a seven-piece band, but there were also two dancers, two more rappers, and two backup singers in attendance. In addition, Ann Peebles, the woman who first made “I Can’t Stand the Rain” famous, was making a guest appearance with Missy. “They didn’t know where to put the camera,” Missy’s manager, Louise C. West, recalled later.
Fifteen minutes before Missy was to appear in front of a live studio audience, Anne Kristoff, her publicist, and Billy B. were waiting outside the performer’s dressing room. There was consternation over the fact that Missy hadn’t announced a final plan for her performance, and Billy B. was upset with his client for not giving him the time he needed to make her up. (“I was promised an hour to do her face,” he complained, to no one in particular. “Missy’s face is my face. I want to be proud of it.”)
Then Sylvia Rhone stepped off the elevator with Merlyn Bobb, and Rhone asked how Missy was and what time she was going on. “Now,” replied a young woman who was passing by in the narrow hall. Right behind her was Missy herself, wearing outsized red leather trousers, a large white T-shirt, and a gold pendant depicting an Afro’d woman in silhouette. A sleeveless red leather basketball jersey had the word “Supa” written on the front and a big purple leather fly stitched on the back. She was trailed by Malik, two dancers in purple trousers and tops, and the singers Magoo and Timbaland. Everyone else stepped into line behind them, followed Missy into the elevator, and disappeared, like circus performers pouring into a tiny joke car.
Downstairs, the non-performing members of Missy’s entourage sat in the greenroom watching as Letterman introduced the number while holding Missy’s CD upside down. The camera closed in on the face of Ann Peebles singing, “Missy, you can’t stand the rain,” while Missy performed her distinctive shimmy and belted out the lyrics “Beep, beep, who got the keys to the jeep, vroom!” Rhone was watching the monitor in the greenroom, and her eyes filled with tears. “She’s got it, she’s got it!” she chanted.
At the end of the song, David Letterman kissed Missy’s hand. Suddenly, the woman who only moments before had been skating from one side of the stage to the other and making cat’s eyes at the audience became modest and subdued. “You Missy people come back!” Letterman called after her as she and her fellow-performers left the stage. Minutes later, Missy was climbing into a black stretch limousine—with Magoo, Malik, and Louise in tow—that had been waiting outside the theatre. Clutching her cell phone, she called her mother: “Yo, Ma, watch me tonight on David Letterman. What channel is it on, y’all? Yeah, Ma, Channel 4.”
In the coming months, Missy will be a presenter at the 1997 MTV Europe Music Awards. She will tour England, France, Holland, and Germany to promote “Supa Dupa Fly.” But she will also be launching Nicole Ray, a young singer from her home town, on Gold Mind, and producing four songs on the Total album. At twenty-five, after less than two years as a producer with Elektra, she’s already sounding like an old hand (“I like young people—not to say that I block old people out. It’s just that you can develop young people”). It also may be time, Missy thinks, to break into the movies. “I don’t want big scenes at first,” she explained to me recently. “I want to work my way up. Sometimes, when you get a heavy role, you can’t deliver, and people are so jealous, they’d be like, ‘Yo, Missy can’t act.’ But if it’s something small people will say, ‘Yo, Missy is tight.’ ”
After the Letterman taping, as the limousine moved through the blue twilight, the driver asked Missy how the show had gone. When he heard that Letterman had kissed her hand, he observed that that was a sign of great respect—or props, as he called it. “That means Letterman’s a European,” he explained. “Those Europeans, they can give it up to a Negro; Missy, one day soon they gonna give you all your props.” ♦
https://www.elle.com/culture/celebrities/a44891/missy-elliott-june-2017-elle-cover-story/
Her Eyes Were Watching the Stars: How Missy Elliott Became an Icon
She's been making ahead-of-the-curve music and mind-bending videos for 20 years—and that's no fluke. Rachel Kaadzi Ghansah goes behind the curtain with the ultraprivate creative genius.
This article appears in the June 2017 issue of ELLE, on newsstands now.
At the photo shoot, the accoutrements of being her precede her. A tray of acrylic nails and an almost-empty bottle of professional-grade nail polish remover are carried by Bernadette Thompson, the Takashi Murakami of manicurists. A tall, strong-looking man walks around distractedly, wheeling a Louis Vuitton duffel bag that is smaller than his forearm; from time to time, he spins it in a wide circle out of boredom. Jewels—gold chokers, hoop earrings, and rings in a velvet-lined box—are attended to by a thin young man wearing a black Balenciaga fitted cap and high-top Nikes. There's a bottle of jewelry cleaner harnessed to his chest and a chain of styling clips attached to his hoodie strings; he looks listless, like he has given his body over to the task. On the table, someone has set down two Kangol hats, one tan, one black: fuzzy, wearable homages to the golden era of hip-hop. They sit there like low-key crowns.
I take a seat out of sight, behind Misa Hylton, the stylist who is the reason people let their pants sag and their Calvins show. Dressed like a ballet dancer from Brixton—or is it Ginza—in a baggy gray sweatshirt and a sheer, tutu-ish white skirt, she sucks on a lollipop, not saying much but taking everything in. When Missy Elliott needs help pulling off her shoe, Misa rushes in to steady her. I recognize the intimacy of it; it's like having your mother or your sister oil your hair. They share a joke; Missy laughs. Misa walks back to her seat, and because they seemed so comfortable, others start to crowd around to look. I still can't see anything from my seat, but I can hear Missy ask something so softly that it has to be repeated and shouted back: "Everybody move back and give her some privacy. Please." Then a large white scrim is stretched out that totally eclipses her from our view. And she turns into a silhouette behind the screen.
What does it mean to be a shy black woman performer in a world where black women are never thought to be shy? Before I went to meet her, I had read articles that decided it just wasn't possible that Missy Elliott is shy. The Guardian wrote that "scary diva is what you expect"; they do not explain why they expected her to be scary, they just say it. In the same way that no one explains what I should expect when I'm told over and over again that Missy Elliott is very shy, without anyone offering a larger understanding of what it might mean. Would she need to be coaxed to open up? Would she not answer my questions? At the shoot, the photographer yells out to her: "Don't be shy—I love it! Let's turn the music up."
Although I got the sense that others were fretful about how this "shyness" would manifest itself in our conversation, after I watched videos of her performing in concert, I was not.
What no one seems to realize is that Missy, like most shy black girls, had long ago been forced to master a certain skill: to hammer down her shyness, along with any fear, to some low, unseen place deep inside of herself, and keep it there until she could step over it, again, again, again.
From the moment I walked on the set, I assumed that Missy Elliott was someone who had this skill, that her ability to rise was ingrained, and I wasn't there for long before we are all watching just that: Missy the Performer—exuberant, high-stepping, arms up in the air, roof-raising, and hair whipping—taking over the monitors and smiling like a woman who has released five platinum albums, possesses four Grammys, and has sold 30 million records and knows very well how to overcome being called scary or feeling shy.
When Missy Elliott dropped her debut album exactly 20 years ago, she altered the spectrum and the range of hip-hop. She made it wild and hyperdimensional. Suddenly, we could all see and hear more. The first rap album I ever purchased was Supa Dupa Fly. And the most important video in the story of my life is "The Rain." On "The Rain," she raps about what still sounds like a perfect day: some light precipitation that clears, smoking some weed, driving to the beach, and dumping an undeserving man. It's a simple enough narrative, but she made it sound strange and wonderful. This was what hip-hop would sound like if it were conceived inside of the calyx of an African violet, unfurling and wet.
I remember seeing that video for the first time in Atlanta at my
cousin's one summer in 1997. I was 16. We didn't have cable at our
house, so my sister and I stood in his basement and stared at the screen
as a woman in a bubble suit that seemed to be filled with equal parts
helium and black cool wobbled and bopped. These were lyrics we got
intuitively even though we usually didn't understand a word. The
vertiginous beats, the cacophony of thunderclaps, and her movements—both
fluid and staccato—put me on the floor. I lay there, sweating in that
Southern humidity, wondering what I had just seen.
I spent those first early summer weeks in Atlanta fucking up the norms of my cousin's neighborhood, a place where the social codes seemed to be as thick and intricate as in Downton Abbey or any E. M. Forster novel, but with sweet tea and beepers. I was greedy to fit in and also aware I never would. We had been there for two weeks when I saw her, sitting on her "Hill's like Lauryn / Until the rain starts, comin' down, pourin'." Years later, she would put it all into words and boast, "For those of you who hated / You only made us more creative." The double entendres, the hair flipping, the irreverent eye rolls, the smirks, the wink, and the symbolic power of putting on an ink-colored balloon suit and becoming blacker, larger, lovelier, and gigantic with daring weren't lost on me.
Pharrell Williams, who has known and worked with Missy for almost 25 years, calls me on her behalf one Sunday afternoon. He talks about her properly, like she is a sonic theory, a leader, and a woman he adores as a creative liberator. "We came up in a time where we were always told no. Where we were always placed in a box. And she defied it. Over and over again. She defied the physics that were dictated to us. She ignored the gravity of standards and prejudices and stereotypes. She ignored that gravity."
Missy Elliott is in constant metamorphosis, but there is still something about her that feels like your homegirl—if your homegirl had a fleet of cars that include a Rolls-Royce, two Lamborghinis, a Porsche 911, a Ferrari 599, an Aston Martin Vanquish, a Spyker, a Range Rover, an Escalade, and a Jeep Cherokee that she says she prefers over all of them. Missy owns enough houses to start a small village (she splits her time between Florida, Virginia, New Jersey, and Los Angeles), but she tells me that she just feels lucky not to have to pay rent and to be financially secure. These are the rewards of being a 45-year-old humble rapper who is still very much in demand at a time when other rappers her age are trending down.
But what makes her iconic is not the numbers; it is what she empowers in others. Missy was always aware of her worth, her real worth—not the fluff or the proxies for currency and confidence that most people depend on. She always expressed what so many of us feel on the inside but have no model for how to display. Her refusal to discuss her personal life has allowed her to deftly deflect any inquiries about her real life toward her surreal life: The one she inhabits with her many costumes and her various personalities. In almost every video, Missy Elliott is a different character (a black Barbie in "Beep Me 911"; a floss-fluorescent, bald-headed creature in "She's a Bitch"; a black Beatrix Kiddo at war with a rival gang that's driving the Pussy Wagon in "I'm Really Hot"). This is the stuff that makes her Missy Elliott, the legend. It is a demand for privacy, but also a sign of wisdom. She's kept our eyes on the prize. She seemed to know early on that the only thing that matters is the work, and it can look fun. But ultimately, the relentlessness and the far-reachingness of it are what have kept her in orbit.
Missy Elliott is a creator's creator. They say that, before he died, Michael Jackson asked her to teach him how to rap. The Dirty Projectors work below a triptych of the people they consider to be the all-time greats: Joni Mitchell, Missy Elliott, and Beethoven. Tyler, the Creator once told GQ that in his mind, alongside Elizabeth Taylor, Missy Elliott was one of the most stylish women ever to exist. "I'm not even talking about her normal dressing. Just the swag that she had in her videos. She made a fucking plastic bag look awesome," he said. Björk, Herbie Hancock, Debbie Harry, Lil Wayne, and Solange Knowles cite her as an inspiration. And Patti LaBelle has thanked her for bringing R&B back. "Missy's so amazing," Thom Yorke of Radiohead once said, that "she makes me want to spit."
While other rappers were adversarial, making you feel broke, or uncool, or backed up against despair, Missy was inviting us to join her party. Others insulted us for listening, told us about what we didn't have, didn't own, and couldn't brag about, whereas Missy said, Forget who you are, forget what you heard, and come dance with me. In Missy Elliott's songs, bodies jiggle, jangle, they sweat, they drip, they drop, they are invested in the beat. In the early eighties, Michael Jackson gave an interview in which he told the interviewer that above all, he liked "to really forget." What feels good about Missy's music is that for four or six minutes, your body is helmed by her control of the beat; you can "really forget" your own life because there is so much to pay attention to in hers. In the "Pass That Dutch" video, she runs through a primer of black footwork in a cornfield while instructing us to work our legs. In "Lose Control," she samples an old electro song by Cybotron, turning things frenetic, until they sound double-timed and fast enough to fly off the handle. In "Slide," a track that feels enormous, a booming cut-time march, she uses a simple rhyme scheme and her background vocals to remind us to work the waist and keep it slippery. "Slide, slide, dip, shake / Move it all around," she purrs. Missy raps from within the rhythm—she doesn't work against it or with it, she doesn't ride it, she becomes it. Words zigzag and stretch to match time signatures. She can speed them up and slow them down; she organizes her harmonies like string sections; and if she can't do it alone, she'll invite someone else—Ludacris, Jay Z, or Tweet—to join her.
What I realized when Missy and I finally sat down to talk is that Missy is communal and sentimental in a way that hip-hop at times denies itself. She tells me about a last-minute sleepover party that she had with Mary J. Blige, Queen Latifah, Misa Hylton, and Lil' Kim in Virginia for her birthday a few years ago. It touched her that they could be "real friends, not just friends for the camera." She seems far too delicate to be asked about Aaliyah, the singer who died in a plane crash in 2001, who was her best friend, collaborator, and "little sister." Missy mourns and pours visual libation to Aaliyah in most of her videos and many of her songs.
Missy Elliott's work doesn't deny death, or poverty, or bad times, but it pushes for recovery. In her most recent single, "I'm Better (feat. Lamb)," which was released in January, the chorus circles around and gets repeated with a robotic flow: "I'm better, I'm better, I'm better / It's another day, another chance / I wake up, I wanna dance / So as long as I got my friends /...I'm better, I'm better, I'm better." This is not a boast from her to her fans; it is a mantra to them from her, even if there is a self-help quality to it. What matters more is that it feels determined, and that is what her fans depend on her to provide—the good news.
She was born in Portsmouth, Virginia, to Patricia, a dispatcher for the power company, and Ronnie Elliott, a former Marine. She was their only child, and her parents named her Melissa Arnette Elliott. Missy told me that when the other kids in her class were asked what they wanted to be, they changed their minds every other week. "It would come to me, and I would be like, 'I'm going to be a superstar!' And the whole class would bust out laughing. But every Friday I would say the same thing. And I would watch them change to different things. Now the doctor is going to be a fireman, but still, when it came to me, I wanted to be a superstar. They thought I was the class clown. But I was like, 'I'm going to be a superstar.' So when I would get in my room, it was like, if y'all don't see it, I'm going to create it myself."
The black sculptor Augusta Savage once said of her father that she believed his violence was the result of him trying to whip the "art out of her." The expression of her artistry, her voice being utilized outside of him, was an affront to his masculinity. So he beat her and tried to break her down. Missy's father beat her mother almost every single day. He dislocated her arms; he berated her. He hit Missy only once, but the violence and instability in her life were relentless. She was eight when an older boy, a family member, saw her vulnerability and preyed upon it—he began molesting her in the afternoons.
Unable to stop her father, put off her molester, or save her mother, Missy shut her door. She turned her room into something that she describes as her Wonderland. This was where she would write fan letters to her favorite singers, the Jacksons, with the unexpressed hope that they would appear, see how musically gifted she was, and come to her rescue. The Hype Williams–directed videos that would define her sensibilities decades later were conceived in spirit in this workshop. Here, she practiced singing along to the radio or to the records her family gave her. And before each performance, she twisted her doll babies' arms up, so they were frozen, forever applauding her.
There are two ways to look at a story like Missy Elliott's. The first is within the context of that little girl now. All grown up, in her mid-forties, talking with me while wearing four diamonds in her ears that are bigger than my eyes. This is the woman who will tell you matter-of-factly, "I believe that I spoke it all into existence," and can explain year by year how she actualized her vision, but gives glory to God that she did. The other way to see this enormous dream is as one that was steeped both in pragmatism and what could not be helped: fate.
Although she does not call it this, Missy Elliott believes in the technology of the self, the idea that we can alter our lives by what we create and transmute, and in doing so, we can become invincible. For her, black innovation, black America's ability to overcome all odds and create, are a kind of passed-along technology. "We are survivors, and once we know that, we are unstoppable," she tells me one evening, as the sun makes it look like there are long, Dalí-like threads attached to her sequined sneakers. "I always said I wouldn't be no other color, because if there's one thing about us, we never really had, but we know how to—we know how to survive."
Missy survived abject poverty and years of abuse by tucking herself into sound. She was young, but when she listened to music, she found it impossible to be casual about it. Instead, she immersed herself in the process; she became the song's student. From her father, she learned to listen to the Temptations and Marvin Gaye. "I remember when 'Sexual Healing' came out. It made me listen to a record like that and think of how to do records like 'Pussy don't fail me now,' " she said, quoting her song "Pussycat." "I was trying to find creative ways of doing stuff.… And my mother had the gospel side, where I sat and studied their harmonies."
When she wasn't studying, she practiced. Missy Elliott had no Joe Jackson. She was no man's babe in the woods. She was self-actualized, self-realized, self-taught. There was no father to her style, but she had many mothers and sisters: Queen Latifah, Donna Summer, and Grace Jones. By the time she reached high school, Missy had started cutting class to invite friends over to rehearse in her living room, and her once-high grades plummeted. All of this alarmed her mother, who'd packed up a moving truck after her father had left for work one day; the two were living on their own. Her mother knew Missy was intelligent and just wanted her daughter to do the right thing, not realizing yet that for her daughter, music wasn't a sign of delinquency, but her path toward the only future she could envision for herself.
We were discussing her rocky years in school, during which she was identified by her school district as having both a "genius" IQ and being in extreme danger of failing every subject, when Missy asked me if I had ever heard of Poe.
"You know Poe?" she asked me, with an urgency that caught me off guard. "The Raven?" she added, smiling to conceal her slight impatience.
"Edgar Allan Poe?" I asked.
"Yes, so I studied, locked down—cause I knew I could do it…and when I had to do The Raven, I turned it into a rap, had one of my friends beatbox. I turned it into a rap! Got an A!"
"Are you big poetry person?" I asked her, since hip-hop is black America's repurposing of the poem.
"Uh, well… I wouldn't say that necessarily," she said, laughing. Then she stopped to think, and she got reflective. "You know, maybe I did like it. Because I murked that. I murked that."
It was around then, in high school, when her friend Magoo connected her with Timbaland and Pharrell Williams. Timbaland, she said, "had a little Yamaha keyboard, and Tim's hands are humongous. He was able to take the claps, the little dog sounds, and make beats with it. Then I just started rapping and singing over him playing with the Yamaha. Tim was very quiet. Pharrell was way on planet Mars. And, you know, I was just whatever. I was kind of crazy. But for whatever reason, we all understood each other."
The geography of Virginia—Southern, hanging off the edge of the East Coast—also inadvertently fortified their sound. They had very little access to what was trending, and it set them free to experiment and make music from what they had. "We got everything so late," she recalled, "it also allowed us to be different because we didn't hear. I will never forget when I first met Pharrell, even being from Virginia, he always was so different. I remember him coming into the studio, and he had some jeans on, and he had the cuffs where they came all the way up to his knees! And I had never seen cuffs that big in my life! And I was like, 'What part of Virginia he from?' "
At the time, Pharrell and Timbaland were in a group called Surrounded by Idiots, and Missy had an all-female rap group called Fayze. When Fayze found themselves in contact with the road manager for Jodeci, who at the time were the biggest force in R&B music, Missy devised an elaborate plan to audition for the group in outfits that matched the ones that Jodeci was famous for. Missy had never performed for anyone this famous before, but she knew what people like James Brown and Tina Turner had done. She took that workhorse approach and told the other girls, "I will need y'all to kick a leg up and put that cane on the floor!" It worked: Fayze soon had a record deal and an invitation to join Jodeci at their house in New Jersey.
Alice Walker once asked in her essay "In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens": "How was the creativity of the black woman kept alive, year after year and century after century, when for most of the years black people have been in America, it was a punishable crime for a black person to read or write?" Imagine the discouragement, the slights, and the drudgery that were directed toward these women when they, too, contained art. "Listen to the voices of Bessie Smith, Billie Holiday, Nina Simone, Roberta Flack, and Aretha Franklin, among others, and imagine those voices muzzled for life." Because so many of them couldn't express themselves, "our mothers and grandmothers have, more often than not anonymously, handed on the creative spark, the seed of the flower they themselves never hoped to see: or like a sealed letter they could not plainly read." When she was little, Missy's mother had been offered a chance to tour the world singing gospel music, but Missy told me that when her mother saw her daughter in the window crying, she put her bags down and walked back in. When Missy walked out the door of her mother's house in 1991 and drove away from Portsmouth, she was doing what her mother could not. She has what Walker described as "the living creativity some of our great-grandmothers knew, even without 'knowing' it." And like those women, but with the dream of performing on bigger stages, Missy Elliott "never had any intention of giving it up."
When Katy Perry asked her to appear for exactly 2.5 minutes in the middle of Perry's set at the 2015 Super Bowl, it was Missy's first big appearance in years. Missy hadn't released an album since 2006. She's said that backstage, having had a panic attack that required medical care the night before, she swore to herself, "If I can get over this [first] step, then I know all my dance steps will be on point." Twenty-four hours later, "Get Ur Freak On," "Work It," and "Lose Control" would be downloaded about 20,000 times each, taking turns hitting the number one spot for downloads on iTunes.
Missy Elliott's mind thinks in bloom, and ideas emerge like buds pushing up from the ground. The Super Bowl story prompts her to tell me that typically she would be most comfortable having this conversation sitting on the floor.
To stay grounded?
"Yes, to stay humble."
Or maybe to remember that this adulation was not always there. The first big song she wrote was for Raven-Symoné in 1993, but when it came time to shoot the video for "That's What Little Girls Are Made Of," for which she rapped a verse, she didn't even receive a call about it. In the video, a thin, light-skinned model who has swallowed Missy's voice raps along with Raven. The rejection was so painful that Missy gave up on trying to be a star and devoted herself to songwriting. Three years later, she and Timbaland would write and produce the majority of Aaliyah's classic album One in a Million. When the record labels circled back around, this time they understood: They were signing someone who wanted her own imprint, with complete creative control over her music and the ability to freely write and produce for others. Missy Elliott was 24 when she got what she wanted from Sylvia Rhone, the CEO of Elektra Entertainment Group at the time, and she called it her new record label Goldmind Inc.
There is an early New Yorker profile of Missy that once referred to her look in "The Rain" as being that of a "cyber mammy." But Missy has never served or played servant to anyone in her life. There is nothing about Missy now, or then, that could belong in anything but a prosperous, liberated future. She even sings in "Work It": "Picture blacks saying yes sir, master? No!" A mammy as a trope was never a self-defined, self-articulating, sexualized woman. We knew nothing of her pleasure. If anything, the trash-bag suit in "The Rain" was about taking it all with you—the rarely spoken-about black woman's pleasure principle. (And who has written more songs about being sexually satisfied and self-satisfying than Missy Elliott?) The knowledge that you are beautiful. It is having been denied, and returning tender, exuberant, monumental, and hyperdimensional. "To me," Missy explained a few days after our first conversation, "the outfit was a way to mask my shyness behind all the chaos of the look. Although I am shy, I was never afraid to be a provocative woman. The outfit was a symbol of power. I loved the idea of feeling like a hip-hop Michelin woman. I knew I could have on a blow-up suit and still have people talking. It was bold and different. I've always seen myself as an innovator and a creative unlike any other."
What is off-putting about some of the interpretations of Missy Elliott's style is that they apply a retrograde framework to a woman who is so firmly from the future. And in doing so, they put undue, incorrect emphasis on her body, and assume things that tell us nothing about her and everything about the erasures that occur to women like her. In the late 2000s, she began to feel ill and suffer dizzy spells and unexplained weight loss. This played a large part in her taking time off. She was diagnosed with the thyroid condition Graves' disease, but when she did an interview with a New York radio station and tried to explain her condition, the host described her weight loss as the upside of her getting sick. To be a woman is to know that your flesh can matter more than your brilliance.
All world-building is an act of construction that requires real effort and no shortcuts. Perhaps because producing necessitates a specialized understanding of music, Missy the Producer doesn't get as much play as Missy the Performer. Both are solidifying elements of her autonomy, but the former guarantees her ability to be the architect of her own sound. Because it's a science to produce—it's a kind of alchemy to sit in a studio and bring forth music from nothing—women are discouraged from doing it. They are ignored when they master it, and, like any other science, they are underrepresented among those who are thought to be the best at it.
There is an interview that Björk did years ago for French television in which she describes the stress of being a woman and containing a certain rare level of musicality. "When somebody comes to make great music, I feel like I have less work to do," she confessed. "When Missy Elliott or, like, Peaches arrives with something good, I would be like, yes! It means I can do other things. Maybe I don't have to worry or stress about rhythmic music anymore because they are taking care of that." Young women are regularly taught how our bodies can be of service or put to work toward the desires of others, but rarely are we instructed how to be in charge of our art. "I remember," Björk has said, "seeing a photo of Missy Elliott at the mixing desk in the studio and being like, aha!" That Missy can draw all of the music out of herself, and work the board, write the music, and execute her ideas often goes undiscussed, but it makes her an aberration and a lighthouse. "When I was a kid, I wrote raps and I wanted to sound just like Missy," Syd, the lead singer of the R&B group the Internet, texts me one morning. A Grammy-nominated polymath, Syd sings, writes, produces, and engineers the majority of her music (and for years did so for her band, Odd Future). And like so many young black women in music, she knows she is a direct descendant of Missy Elliott's quiet revolution in the studio. "But I was even more inspired by her when I got older and learned how much other music she had written and produced. She is definitely one of my biggest role models in music. She's a genius…and her attitude shines through."
Missy Elliott has written more than 500 songs, produced music for Ciara, Janet Jackson, Mariah Carey, and Whitney Houston, and taken just three vacations in her entire lifetime. She has written gospel songs that seem ready to break all the stained glass in the chapel with their high notes and full harmonies, and she has written a song where she implores her "pussycat" not to fail her. In her "Sock It 2 Me" video, she became the black woman who promised a new generation, just like Uhura did in Star Trek, that not only would we survive the new millennium and be found in the farthest reaches of the galaxy, we would be there fighting aliens in Teflon spacesuits, cracking up with our girls, smacking our gum, and looking good while doing it.
In her videos, Missy Elliott taught us how to move to her sound, to bop, to bounce along with her. "Missy was making films, you know? She was making three-minute films, working with the best technology at the time, and she still does, by the way," Pharrell explains. "And it felt like there were no bounds to what she could do, and she continued to teach people over and over again, you can do this, you can do that." And we learned to enjoy watching her. "I know my dances are going to be the puzzle," she says, "so even if you thought it was weird, I put the visual in your face so now you see how you're supposed to move to it." What she did with her body is move it as a dancer and performer. And her moves seem natural, like you could try it and not make a fool of yourself. But really she is possessed of a very singular ability as a choreographer: She knows how to put us all on the moon to dance with her without self-concern or a care in the world, and that is what only the greatest pop artists have done.
What is disarming about her in person is that all of these parts fit and feel rooted. She is a businesswoman, a flashy rapper, but she has a songwriter's need for solitude that brings to mind the moods of Kate Bush, Laura Lee, Sade, and Laura Nyro. The need to retreat and go deep and remain exceedingly private. "I'm probably like the lamest but still sauciest artist out there," Missy says. "I don't know how that works, where you cannot do nothing and still be saucy, but my friends, they always tell me when they come to the house, 'Ohh, you don't need to be an introvert' and 'Dude, you gotta get out, like you don't do nothing but just sit in the studio.' But you know, for me, I find comfort in that for whatever reason. It's, like, therapeutic for me."
Until it flooded, Missy spent a great deal of time at her mountain house near the Poconos, where bears would wander into her front yard and, because she was alone, she would have to wait until they wandered off to go outside. She tells me she likes to drive her cars and listen to old soul music.
She has worked with Timbaland since she was a teenager, but even he has never been in the studio with her when she records. "I'm private about recording, because it allows me to be myself and not have to worry. The energy has to be right for me, if I'm in that booth and somebody's energy is off and not really, like, moving their head or something, it may make me start to doubt what I'm doing. You gotta be careful in the energies that you let come in the room, because it will begin to make you doubt and fear and not want to take that risk."
"We been quiet too long lady-like very patient," she says in an interlude on her 2002 album, Under Construction. And there is a moment in her VH1 Behind the Music special where Missy's mother cringes. She is discussing Missy's decision to reveal the sexual abuse and violence that barbed itself around her childhood. "When Missy went open about the abuse," her mother says, "I was like, This is our secret; you don't tell the world what happened." Her mother was not being malicious. She was just afraid for her daughter. For many years, her mother lived with her in her house in Virginia; they are very close. But this is a generational reminder, a well-worn mode of discretion that most black girls hear at some point in their lives. It comes in many forms, a whisper in your ear to always keep your panties clean so if you are killed in an accident they will know you aren't a dirty woman, a curt warning not to tell your business in the street—these silences, this keeping it quiet, are supposed to let the world know who we are. I realized that what Missy had done on a very basic level is decide that those good intentions—meant to beckon us toward being flatter than we are, quieter than we are—wouldn't work for her as a rapper or a songwriter.
In 1983, Octavia E. Butler, the first major black
woman science fiction writer, published a story, "Speech Sounds," that
imagines a world where almost everyone has lost their voice, and because
of that they no longer remember how language works. One of the few
exceptions is a woman named Rye, and as the story progresses, she comes
to realize that even though is it dangerous to speak, she has to, and
she has to help the children who have been left behind, who like her are
still trying to form words and express themselves under such perilous
conditions.
On Missy's 2015 song "WTF (Where They From)," there is a sample of a young girl speaking. The voice belongs to Rachel Jeantel, the friend of Trayvon Martin who was on the phone with him when he was murdered. Missy doesn't bring this up, I do. She goes almost mute when I say that by sampling Jeantel's voice, Pharrell and she have done a remarkable thing that has reversed what usually happens to the words of girls who look like Rachel Jeantel. They have preserved them for the record, credited her for her voice and her words, and made sure she got paid. The witness becomes the writer. From the test comes the testimony.
And so a shy girl rises to the occasion, to speak, to write, and she becomes herself—because who else is going to explain why it is imperative that women don't put up with lousy lovers, or show us that we can wear sneaks every single day and still desire to get those nails done every other day? (Her nail tech, Bernadette, tells me: When it comes to glam, Missy is the most feminine artist of all time.) Missy is a multiplatinum artist who views Andre 3000 and Erykah Badu as her creative peers; she is an icon who likes to sit on the floor. This is what she does best: convince others that all of this is contained inside of her, while still finding a way to remain herself.
Across the street from the photo studio, the Chelsea Piers are turning themselves over to the night. And Missy's publicist and team are in a hurry to make sure I'm not taking up too much of her time, but Missy herself doesn't seem rushed to go anywhere yet. If anything, she seems deliberate. She sips through a straw from a cup of fresh-squeezed juice, and then she holds the cup with both hands. Her baseball cap is cocked to the side, and her two-inch nails are painted iridescent blue. Her legs are open but locked at the ankle. She looks in command—even more so because she is smiling.
I want to know more about her absences from the spotlight. What is it like to re-enter a world where Twitter can determine who becomes president, where music can feel like it was created to last for exactly for one minute and then disappear into the ether?
Yeah, it is a brave new world, she agrees. But she isn't despondent. Not at all.
"One thing I won't do is compromise." She takes another sip of juice and thinks for a moment. "I will never do something based on what everybody else is telling me to do. And have to kick myself in the ass every night," she says, drawing her head back and shaking it.
"Nah. I have to make sure that it's right," she continues. "I've been through so many stumbling blocks to build a legacy, so I wouldn't want to do something just to fit in. Because I never fit in. So…."
I wait for her to finish her sentence, but she doesn't. Her smile just grows into a laugh, a shy one, and then she shrugs. As if to say, Take it or leave it, love me or leave me.
It's a blueswoman's confidence, the realest shrug in the world, a gesture that comes from knowing full well that most of us made our choice about her a long time ago.
SONGWRITERS HALL OF FAME
Five-time Grammy-winning singer-songwriter/producer
Missy Elliott
Inductee:Top female hip-hop album seller throughout the late 1990s and early 2000s
Elliott was born in 1971 in Portsmouth, Virginia, and after a traumatic childhood, formed a girl group, Fayze, writing most of its material and enlisting neighborhood friend Tim Mosley (Timbaland) to produce. Impressing Jodeci’s DeVante Swing, she and the group moved to New York, changed its name to Sista, and signed to Elektra Records via DeVante’s Swing Mob imprint.
She wrote (and rapped on) her first hit, “That’s What Little Girls Are Made of,” for Raven-Symoné, in 1993, and fronted Sista’s 1994 single “Brand New,” then worked on tracks for Aaliyah (she co-wrote her 1996 No. 1 R&B/hip-hop hits “One in a Million” and “If Your Girl Only Knew”) and SWV. Her debut as featured vocalist came that year with a guest verse on Sean “Puffy” Combs’s remix of “The Things You Do”--which she co-wrote—and it led to her own Elektra imprint Goldmine, where she released her debut album Supa Dupa Fly (1997), which spawned the hits “Sock It 2 Me,” “Hit Em Wit Da Hee,” “Beep Me 911,” and “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly).” The album went platinum and brought her Rolling Stone’s Rap Artist of the Year designation.
She ended the ‘90s with two writing/producing credits on Whitney Houston’s My Love is Your Love album and others including Nicole’s “Make It Hot,” Total’s “Trippin,” and 702s “Where My Girls At?,” and appeared on Spice Girl Mel B’s solo single “I Want You Back.” Her 1999 album Da Real World featured Aaliyah, Eminem and Beyonce and showcased the No. 1 hit “Hot Boyz” and also went platinum, as did Miss E … So Addictive (2001, yielding the Grammy-winning hit “Get Ur Freak On”) and Under Construction (2002), which went double-platinum and featured collaborations with TLC, Beyoncé and Jay Z—and the hits “Work It” and “Gossip Folks.” Her 2003 platinum album This Is Not a Test included the hits “Pass That Dutch” and “I’m Really Hot,” and her 2005 album The Cookbook featured the Grammy-nominated “We Run This” and the anthem “Lose Control.”
Elliott was diagnosed in 2008 with a rare autoimmune disease that caused a long period away from performing, though she continued to write and produce for other artists including Jennifer Hudson, Monica and Keyshia Cole. She guested on projects by Katy Perry, Little Mix and Eve, and collaborated with Kelly Rowland and Fantasia on the Grammy-nominated “Without Me” in 2013. In 2015 she returned with the Pharrell-produced gold single “WTF (Where They From),” and performed at the Super Bowl halftime show. In 2016 she appeared with Michelle Obama on James Corden’s Carpool Karaoke—during which the then First Lady rapped her lyrics.
Wrote (and rapped on) her first hit, “That’s What Little Girls Are Made of,” for Raven-Symoné, in 1993
Scroll to Discover Missy Elliott Connections
https://www.revolt.tv/2019/8/27/20852729/how-missy-elliott-s-influence-impacted-an-entire-generation
How Missy Elliott’s influence impacted an entire generation
In honor of her new Michael Jackson Video Vanguard award, let's examine all of the innovations that the famed rapper has made in music and culture throughout her career.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any other agency, organization, employer or company.
by Dontaira Terrell
This year, at a glance, was a huge one for Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliott. As the first female rapper to receive the Michael Jackson Video Vanguard Award at the Video Music Awards on Monday (Aug. 26) night, it's clear that her dominance in the industry is unyielding, and her substantial influence has left an imprint on a slew of artists from all genres.
During the VMAs, rapper Lizzo posed the question, "Where would hip hop be without Missy Elliott?" And mega-producer Timbaland reminded us, "People wouldn't do the videos they are doing today if it wasn't for [her]." The 48-year-old has tremendously impacted the game and is truly one-of-a-kind. She is known for pushing creative boundaries with confidence, charisma, and exceptional ease. Being in the game for more than 20 years, the Virginia native has influenced the music industry with new fashion, era-defining videos, innovative dance moves, and bold lyrical content. On top of that, Elliott has made a name for herself by crafting so many 90s and early 2000 anthems, and classic hits that black women can unapologetically relate to.
Just last week, the internet was abuzz after she dropped her EP Iconology, and a music video for "Throw it Back," a song from the five-track project. It was both refreshing and nostalgic to witness the creative aesthetic of the "Supa Dupa Fly" star back in her element. It also came as no surprise that the lead visual for the project instantly became the number one trending music video on YouTube.
Although the trailblazing songwriter stepped out of the immediate spotlight for several years, her widespread impact is extremely relevant. Weekly podcast "The Read's" hosts Kid Fury and Crissle West, and superfans worldwide championed for her comeback and for her to also receive the Video Vanguard Award. Fast forward and campaigning for her continued success paid off, and spoke to the indelible footprint that she has deeply embedded in the culture.
After killing the stage during her performance and recreating a few of her iconic videos such as "Lose Control," "Pass That Dutch," and "Work It," the star humbly accepted her Moonman trophy. The trailblazing talent made sure to thank her loyal day ones when she said, "I have worked diligently for over two decades. It means so much to me. I promise it doesn't go unnoticed, the love and support y' all have shown me over the years."
Although the accolades and recognitions are incredible, this honor was long overdue. Not only has Elliott killed the game on her own with Billboard-charting hits, but she has also collaborated and penned tracks for other legendary artists including Janet Jackson, J. Cole, JAY-Z, Mariah Carey, Beyoncé; and the late singers, Whitney Houston and Aaliyah. Even former first lady Michelle Obama shared her admiration for the legendary emcee in an episode of "Carpool Karaoke," as she belted out the lyrics word for word to Elliott's song "Get Ur Freak On."
Since rising to stardom in 1996 after Diddy put her on the map with a solo artist feature on Gina Thompson's "The Things You Do," Elliott's musical journey has been unstoppable. It opened the door for her to bless an entire generation with her out-of-the-box thinking and risk-taking concepts. With this song, she gained notoriety and caught the attention of mainstream media, thanks to her signature "hee hee how" catchphrase.
Elliott proudly rocks an "Iconic" nameplate around her neck because her grit, grind, tenacity, and fearlessness have awarded her the title. With more than 30 million albums sold and each one of her six studio albums being RIAA platinum-certified, she has the coveted honor of being o:ne of the best-selling female artists of all time. Elliott is the only female rapper who has been able to achieve this. Respect!
Breaking barriers yet again in January, she was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame by becoming the first female hip hop artist to receive this merit. In an official statement released by the organization, they confirmed what the hip hop community has stated for years, "Missy Elliott is a groundbreaking solo superstar, pioneering songwriter-producer, and across-the-board cultural icon."
In case you needed more evidence as to why the Virginia native is one of the greatest or you had an ounce of doubt about the five-time Grammy-award winner,
she solidified her position in her latest statement, saying, "Don't
look for another Missy, [because] there'll be no
other one." Undeniably, she is one of the best ever to do it. PERIOD.
How Missy Elliott’s Black iconoclasm gave me a sense of identity
For a racially isolated girl in north-west England, the rapper’s weird fantasy worlds on MTV were a surrealist confidence boost
I have never lived in a world without Missy Elliott in it. I was born the same year as she released her groundbreaking debut, Supa Dupa Fly, though I got to know her via via the osmosis of TV music channels. Growing up in the north-west of England, where Black children were few and far between, Trevor Nelson’s MTV Base show The Lick – where he pulled turn-of-the-millennium rap, hip-hop and R&B from the vault – became something like Black music history class for my malleable childhood mind. He usually featured Missy, whose videos were always the best. She was an auteur of visuals that were cartoonish, bizarre and surreal, sometimes framed through the fish-eye lens of Hype Williams. Watching her hack out a CGI glob of spit and seeing it fly into a backup dancers’ mouth used to make me shudder at the grossness and the delight in her macabre fantasy.
A chubby, slightly awkward and quiet child, I secretly loved to dance when I was alone. Missy made impeccable music to move to thanks to the beguiling samples, ticking hi-hats and record scratches lacing the beats she co-produced with Timbaland. I bit down pangs of jealousy whenever I set eyes on her backup dancers – she often featured skilled child performers like Alyson Stoner, kids who could spin on their heads and violently contract their joints to the beat. I was captivated and deeply jealous that I hadn’t been put into dance classes in infancy, and wanted to be exactly where they were performing alongside her.
My bedroom became a makeshift Dave Meyers set. I breathlessly recreated her choreography, reeling off her cartoonishly vulgar lyrics without thinking (“pockets mo’ bigger than a stripper booty cheeks” stuck in my head), practicing the moves I saw in videos like Ching-a-Ling. I didn’t own any of the sorts of tracksuits, furry flat caps or shimmering neckpieces that Missy would coolly flaunt on camera, so instead I wore a single pink fingerless glove that came with a bicycle set I had. I looked ridiculous, and there was little rhyme nor reason to why wearing it made sense to me: it just seemed like the kind of thing I would expect Missy to wear.
https://tidal.com/magazine/article/songwriter-hall-missy-elliott/1-55484
The Avant-Garde Genius of Missy Elliott
Celebrating the legend’s induction into the Songwriters Hall of Fame.
Producer Timbaland wasn’t in the room when Elliott and her engineer nailed that verse in “Work It,” off of 2002’s Under Construction, but he remembers being shocked and impressed by the results. “It’s deeper than the reverse,” he tells TIDAL. “How did she know to pick those words to reverse? How did she know it would give it that rhythm? That cadence? That’s what is ingenious about it; that’s what caught me.”
Tim wasn’t the only one ensnared by Elliott’s command over words; she changed the way we hear music. Across her impeccable career, she’s challenged the conventions of language, forcing us to listen with fresh ears — which is why we’re not surprised that she’s the first female rapper to be inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame (June 13). We’re just shocked it didn’t happen sooner.
From her scatting (“Work It”) and her tricking code (“The Rain”) to her playful deliveries (“Pass Da Blunt”), Missy Elliott democratizes language; she hides what she really means behind her expertly crafted lyrics, circumventing those who would otherwise silence her. There’s an aura of discovery to a Missy Elliott record; listening is like stumbling into another world.
We reached out to Elliott for an interview to no avail, which is no surprise, according to Timbaland. “If you look back at it, Missy doesn’t do a lot of interviews, because she feels like her music is the interview,” he says. “It’s natural for her, it’s her way of expressing herself.” So we’ll work with what we have here to tell her story: her music, her chosen words.
Born Melissa Arnette Elliott, Missy Elliot first broke into the music world with R&B group Sista in the early ‘90s. She then took her knowledge of melody and teamed up with Timbaland in the late ‘90s to launch her solo career. In the two decades since her formal debut, 1997’s Supa Dupa Fly, Missy Elliott’s name became synonymous with invention, playfulness, sensuality, and, above all else, freedom of black expression.
“Missy was a person who pushed me, who watched what I did, and turned around to make a masterpiece,” Timbaland says. “It’s unexplainable. Unorthodox, but light. She makes something that’s not the norm normal.”
For proof, take a look at Supa Dupa Fly: the creep of the album would be lurid if it wasn’t so wonderfully impressionistic. The hook of “Hit Em Wit Da Hee,” (“I hit ’em with the hee/I hit ’em with the/I stop ’em with the haaa”) sounds like nothing but nonsense from a distance. But the delivery and the swagger Missy brings to the table translate what sounds like gibberish into a universal vibe: it’s time to kick ass and take names.
The same goes for “Izzy Izzy Ahh,” the chorus of which, in short, bends language. From a distance “Izzy Izzy ahh zizah zizah zizah/Hard bitches be talkin’ like they all rah rah” might be incoherent, but once you listen enough, you’ll learn to speak Elliott’s language. She simply has no time for chicken heads.
Yes, her meanings aren’t obvious, but her delivery is delightful. We’re absorbed into her sonic universe, enjoying the music on her terms. Coltrane had sheets of sound and Missy has sheets of phonemes bumbling out of her mouth, making something insular and inspiring for years to come.
Take her ‘97 classic, “The Rain.” An iconic debut single boasting an equally iconic video, “The Rain” peaked at No. 4 on the Billboard Hot 100 and established Missy Elliott as a force in hip-hop. Consider the stickiness and everlasting quality of “Beep beep, who got the keys to the Jeep, vroom/I’m driving to the beach.” Elliott paints a complete picture of a getaway in a handful of words; contrasting against the Ann Peebles-sampled hook, the track tackles the need to escape the pangs of broken love.
We don’t explicitly catch her meaning until the third verse: “Chumpy, I break up with him before he dump me/To have me, (I can’t stand the rain) yes you lucky (against my window).” Elliott sounds like a controlled wildfire, burning in the distance and mesmerizing us. “The Rain” is a claim to power and an honest portrayal of being toyed with. By the end of the track, we understand that the boy is the rain, and, while the rain once represented pummeling heartache, it’s now beneath us. The imagery and inversion is a masterful path to agency, an approach Missy Elliott perfected.
Missy Elliott’s allusion to fellow great Ms. Lauryn Hill increases the impact of the track, as she lays down her lineage for all to see (“I sit on Hills like Lauryn”). Not only is she calling out her influences, she’s placing herself squarely in the Hall of Fame. Looking back on “The Rain” in light of her recent induction, every milestone in her career feels fated and even more satisfying.
Speeding up to 1999’s Da Real World — another seminal record — “Hot Boyz” is a moment of reclamation in the vein of “The Rain.” Here, Missy Elliott defines her man on her terms. Where hip-hop is often centered on the male gaze and the domination and commodification of women, Elliott flips that convention on its head and delivers bars like: “Is that your car, the XK8?/Are you ridin’ alone, can I be your date?/Come get me, get me/Don’t diss me, don’t trick me.”
Let’s focus on “Come get me” and the impressive command Elliott has over the track. She declares herself a prize, with or without male attention, breaking down the notion that women don’t matter unless they’re next to a man. Her confidence in her sexuality is extraordinary.
Take the dominance she asserts with: “Give me no reason, I know that you treatin’/ These diamonds I’m needin’, make you believe it / I want a lot, boy, with a hot boy.” Her demanding demeanor flips the well-worn script: men rapping demands at their women. Now, Missy is deciding who is and is not sexy — and she’s spending your money in the process. Elliott broke down barriers and sounded icy while she did it.
Then it’s back to “Work It,” from 2002’s Under Construction. The track is a direct elevation of Elliott’s skill — and upgrade from the wonderful garble of “Izzy Izzy Ahh.”
“She pushed play and the hook, the rhythm, the cadence, was spot on,” Timbo says of making “Work It.” They went through two versions of the track before Missy knocked it out on the third pass.
There is no rule Missy Elliott has not broken. She became the rule by thriving as the exception. Somewhere during the “Ra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta” of “Work It,” she once again cemented herself as the gold standard of lyricism and creativity.
“She wrote a rhythm to life that was unorthodox,” Timbo says with a smile. “I don’t know if they made a word for magic that can’t be explained to people.”
Missy Elliott’s music brought us to the future of hip-hop and R&B, and the aforementioned selections are just a smattering of the wide breadth of lyrical excellence Missy cataloged across her career. Her uncanny ability to make language malleable is just one reason why her induction into the Songwriters Hall of Fame is so deserved.
“You will play her songs for 20 years; it will pass over generations,” Timbaland assures. “She’s in that Sam Cooke, Miles Davis, Stevie Wonder [club]. She is the Aretha Franklin of hip-hop.”
Few artists will go down as smoother, colder and more creative than Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliott.
(Photo by Erika Goldring/Getty Images)
https://www.vogue.com/article/missy-elliott-first-female-rapper-songwriters-hall-of-fame
Missy Elliott Makes History as the First Female Rapper in the Songwriters Hall of Fame
I put my thing down, flip it, and reverse it! It was announced today that Missy Elliott, the trailblazing female hip-hop artist known for her earworm-y raps, will be the first female rapper to be inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. She is only the third rapper to receive the honor—the other two being Jay-Z and Jermaine Dupri—and joins 2019’s class of inductees including British singer Cat Stevens (aka Yusuf Islam), John Prine, Tom T. Hall (Johnny Cash called him his all-time favorite songwriter), Dallas Austin, and Jack Tempchin.
“I want to congratulate all the amazing songwriters who have been inducted into the 2019 ‘SongWriters Hall of Fame,’ ” Elliott tweeted about the news today. “Those who were nominated because their body of work is amazing I am so humbly grateful to now be inducted.” The six songwriters, who are only eligible for induction after writing hit songs for at least two decades, will be formally inducted on June 13 in a ceremony held at the Marriott Marquis Hotel in New York City.
While Elliott has of course written her own ingenious rap verses—even, in the case of “Work It,” writing (and rapping) her lyrics in reverse—she’s also responsible for penning some of the biggest hits of the past three decades. She has written a prolific number of singles for acts such as Mariah Carey, Aaliyah, Beyoncé, Destiny’s Child, Mya, Ciara, and Whitney Houston, among others. From hits like “One Minute Man” to “She’s a Bitch,” “Get Ur Freak On,” “Lose Control,” and “On & On,” has there ever been a better time for a Missy dance party? We think not.
9 Missy Elliott songs that are a testament to her Songwriters Hall of Fame induction
Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliott became the first female hip-hop artist to be inducted in the Songwriters Hall of Fame in January of 2019.
Since she began producing music solo in 1997, Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliott’s career has been dominated by hit singles, charting records and platinum albums. Along with other female rappers like Lauryn Hill, Elliott worked in a male-dominated industry to change the rap game and emphasized subjects like feminism, misogyny and sex positivity. In January of 2019, “CBS This Morning” announced Elliott became the first female hip-hop artist to be inducted in the Songwriters Hall of Fame.
To celebrate this historical induction and revisit some of Elliott’s successful records, The Red & Black compiled a playlist of 9 Missy Elliott tracks, with a runtime of just over 30 minutes.
1. ‘The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)’ – 1997
“The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” was Missy Elliott’s first big single and music video. Though the song is strong by itself — with confident lyrics and a sampling from “I Can’t Stand the Rain” by Ann Peebles — the music video itself is a statement, namely because of the large, inflated trash bag Elliott wears.
2. ‘Get Ur Freak On’ – 2001
This track, off of Elliott’s “Miss E …So Addictive,” hit the top ten of Billboard’s Hot 100, and rightfully so. The distinctive beat propels the song and the hook is not only catchy but simple enough for anyone to pick up. Pitchfork ranked “Get Ur Freak On” the seventh best track of the 2000s.
3. ‘Work It’ – 2002
The first single off “Under Construction,” “Work It” made it to No. 2 on Billboard’s Hot 100. Many listeners can recognize the song for at least two of its features: the persistent sound of an elephant trumpeting and the backward lyrics in the chorus and the hook. “If you a fly gal, get your nails done,” Elliott raps. “Get a pedicure, get your hair did.”
4. ‘One, Two Step’ – 2004
“One, Two Step” was a successful collaboration between Missy Elliott and Ciara, one that would go on to hit No. 2 on Billboard’s Hot 100. The two R&B artists work together on the verses while Ciara sings the recognizable hook with the iconic, “Let me see you one, two step” and “I love it when you one, two step.”
5. ‘We Run This’ – 2006
The song is perhaps most recognized from the catchy hook of “We run this, run this.” “We Run This” ended up being nominated for a Grammy for Best Rap Solo Performance in 2007. The accompanying music video ended up being released years later, in 2009.
6. ‘One Minute Man (feat. Ludacris)’ – 2001
“One Minute Man” is the second single off“Miss E …So Addictive.” Though Elliott is known for her rapping abilities, she primarily sings on this record while Ludacris does most of the heavy rapping. The song eventually peaked at No. 15 on Billboard’s Hot 100.
7. ‘WTF (Where They From) [feat. Pharrell Williams]’ – 2015
“WTF (Where They From)” was Elliott’s first single after a seven-year hiatus.Pharrell Williams is also featured on the track and adds a more upbeat, bouncy vibe to the record. The music video was also relatively popular, with now over 61 million views.
8. ‘Gossip Folks’ – 2002
In “Gossip Folks,” Elliott addresses much of the rumors that were circulating her in the early 2000s, namely her weight, eating habits and sexuality. Ludacris also makes an appearance in the third verse, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to fans, since Elliott featured artists from Beyoncé to 50 Cent on her album, “Under Construction.”
9. ‘Hot Boyz’ – 1999
This song follows one central theme: attractive and wealthy men. Though Elliott raps about wanting someone who will treat her right, ultimately she’s looking for someone who doesn’t live with his mother, drives an expensive car and has a Platinum Visa credit card. “I want a lot, boy, with a hot boy,” Elliott declares.
20 years ago, Missy Elliott’s ‘Supa Dupa Fly’ welcomed the misfits into hip-hop’s mainstream
Rappers had been describing themselves as “super fly” years before Missy Elliott stepped onto the scene in 1997. But when the words tumbled out of the Virginia-born emcee’s mouth in the opening of her mind-melting video for her first single, “The Rain,” they took on an entirely new meaning. Chalk some of that up to presentation: Missy was stunting on her competitors while dressed in an inflatable garbage bag, then in a shock-orange trench raincoat, rapping over lean, staggered funk riffs, the likes of which listeners had never heard before.
The video for “The Rain” dropped on May 20, 1997, but 20 years ago Saturday, Missy Elliott released debut LP Supa Dupa Fly, produced entirely by close confidant and co-writer Timbaland. Best known as the 17-track album that houses “The Rain,” it launched a titan into hip-hop’s orbit.
Supa Dupa Fly remains one of the most unapologetically weird and disruptive rap debuts of all time. It doesn’t play coy. It demands its listener recognize Missy’s talent, style and sensuality from the jump. “It wasn’t your car that had me all in love with you,” Missy sings on the album’s second track, “Hit ‘Em Wit’ Da Hee.” “’Cause I’ve got my own ride and a trunk full of tunes / I drive through your hood / And I hit ’em with the hee.”
The lines act like a mission statement. Here is Missy, queen of funk, rolling through hip-hop, leaving the game changed in her wake, preaching economic and creative empowerment. She gave black women a fresh voice in the genre. She wasn’t interested in playing the roles too many women had to settle for in late 1990s hip-hop: the video vixen or the ride-or-die coquette. That much was immediately clear from the trash-bag outfit. The black, billowing marshmallow suit was a direct shot at every industry exec who didn’t think Missy’s body had a place in the “bootylicious world of female rap and R&B,” as the Guardian once framed it in a 2001 profile. Missy’s was a new vision of rap, one that could puff out into any shape or form to fit the artist who wanted to take up the mantle.
Missy was already well-established as a songwriter before she cut Supa Dupa Fly. She appeared in the credits of some of the smoothest R&B anthems of the mid ’90s, on tracks for Aaliyah, Destiny’s Child and Ginuwine. Missy was “comfortable” writing for other people, as she told Spin in 1997. “And I mean really comfortable.”
But comfort clearly wasn’t the goal. She aimed to upset the status quo and reshape hip-hop’s narrow mold. And she pulled that off. The album plays in large part like a deconstructed take on blaxploitation soul, with producer Timbaland breaking the standard horns, guitars, piano and drums into isolated jigsaw pieces. Most songs don’t lay more than one or two textures on top of this tottering scaffold — a walking funk bassline on “Izzy Izzy Ah,” or the eerie, floating guitars of “I’m Talkin’” — creating a stark mix that edges up on reggae, jungle and drum and bass.
There are few rap albums that make such clever use of space and creeping, molasses-slow tempos. It’s not immediately obvious how to dance to the loose, clipped beat boxing of “Beep Me 911,” “Gettaway” or the off-kilter wobble of “The Rain.” The album’s dreamlike music videos, directed by guru of the format Hype Williams, helped ease listeners into Elliott’s extraterrestrial world and showed them how to move to her stuttering, southern bounce.
Lyrically, Elliott’s Supa Dupa flows on trend more toward abstract collage rather than straight-up illustration. “They Don’t Wanna Fuck Wit Me” and “Hit ‘Em Wit’ Da Hee” show Missy breaking down her words into syllables that are unintelligible but still charged, using onomatopoeia to carry the momentum forward — “Duck, here comes the shot bang bang pllllllrrr!”
That style, which Elliott continued to develop up through 2015’s “WTF (Where They From)” and 2016’s “I’m Better,” feels like a precursor to the post-verbal flows we’re hearing from shape-shifting artists like Young Thug, Future and Lil Uzi Vert. The panic they’ve caused among old heads who are decrying the ways that millennials are destroying hip-hop? Missy Elliott provided a blueprint for their disruption.
Of course, she wasn’t alone on the genre’s forefront; at the time, there was a whole new wave of artists who were building a more expansive, afro-futuristic vision of hip-hop. Outkast and Busta Rhymes were left-field innovators in their own rights. The latter opened Supa Dupa Fly, welcoming listeners to “Missy LP numba one! / Blossomin’ like beautiful flowers on all y’all muthafuckas!” Fans loved the display. The LP went platinum, moving 129,000 copies its first week, the highest debut for a female rapper at the time. Critics praised the way she delivered heartfelt ballads and taunting raps with equal enthusiasm. In his 2006 book, Fear of Music: The 261 Greatest Albums Since Punk and Disco, music critic Garry Mulholland described the album as “a key prophecy of the dominant 21st-century black pop.”
And this was all just the beginning. Missy went on to achieve greater mainstream successes: her No. 2 charting 2001 album, Miss E... So Addictive; her double platinum 2002 album Under Construction; her dance-floor dominating 2005 single “Lose Control.” It all started with Supa Dupa Fly, when Missy Elliott proved a female artist could let their freak flag fly and remain a critical and commercial force to be reckoned with. There’s a seemingly endless line of artists who still find inspiration in her iconoclastic, sci-fi style. Twenty years later, pop is still biting Missy’s style — and it’s flyer for it.
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http://www.daveyd.com/missyelliott.html
Missy Elliott is probably one of the most prolific artists in the business today.. She's written songs for everyone ranging from SWV to Ginuwine to Lil Kim etc..She's definitely the bomb and represents a new breed of female hip hop artists.
Davey D:. Let me ask you the first question. Who exactly are you and where did you come from?
Missy Elliott: Who exactly am I and where did I come from?
Davey D: Now when we say Missy Elliott, I mean I'm asking you basically how did you get started, cause for a lot of people, know you after hearing the Supa Dupa Fly. I think they are just really starting to know you after seeing the video, but obviously you been around for awhile so just trying to give it a context.
Missy Elliott: Well I started when Devante' from Jodeci found me when I was in a group called 'Sista'. And um, then I started like writing songs for a lot of different people. But like when people really started seeing me at was the Gina Thompson record, 'The Things you Do'. And from there that's like the launch of my career. From that song that Puffy did.
Davey D: OK, have you always been a music writer? How did you just get into that?
Missy Elliott: Well I been writing songs ever since I was little far as I'm concerned. I use to make up songs. I use to stand on the trash can and sing out by the street or whatever, but professionally, I think I started writing songs maybe when I started working with Jodeci. Like on some stuff on their album.
Davey D: Which songs were you working with them on?
Missy Elliott: "Sweaty", "Want Some More" and "Won't Waste Your Time".
Davey D: OK Now, people know you from the video. What was the concept behind that? Who came up with the storyboard ideas, the whole nine for that?
Missy Elliott: Me and Hype came up with the idea together. He came up with the Blow-up Suit and I came up with the Jeep and the sittin on the hill and we just collaborated together and made it into what it is. Like its kind of an alternative video. Of course, he made like all the puppet moves and all of that stuff so.
Davey D: OK. You being a female in todays time, I mean you definitely taking a different approach then two of Hip Hop's biggest Divas, Lil Kim and Foxy Brown. What direction do you see women within the Hip Hop, Urban scene going now, where do you see them headed?
Missy Elliott: Um. I don't know. I can't predict that too much, but I can say that women in the Hip Hop field are getting more respect now. Were able to say what the guys use to say or what they say now cause at first we couldn't do that, but now its like were more open and we are more respected now in the business then we were like 10-12 years ago when people like Latifah and Monie was out you know. So I think we starting to get a lot more respect. As females now and being able to just voice our opinion on how we feel about certain subjects.
Davey D: OK. Um. Where do you um, who would you like to collaborate with, I mean with all the your credits after looking at that list, one could say that your the female version of Babyface or Babyface is a male version of you. You know. Who would you like to collaborate with and have you enjoyed collaborating with?
Missy Elliott: Well I enjoyed collaborating with all the artists that I worked with. I think all the artists that I worked with are real talented and we finished the songs really quickly, cause they like talented like that. The only person that I love to collaborate with that's not out like as an artist is Timberland, and he's a producer. He's the producer for all the songs that I've done, but I don't want to say which particular artist because all of the artists were fun working with.
Davey D: You gotta give me one.
Missy Elliott: Um, Aaliyah.
Davey D: Aaliyah.
Missy Elliott: Yeah.
Davey D: Do you ever see yourself collaborating with maybe some of the Hip Hop artists especially out on the West Coast. Like an Ice-Cube, Snoop Dogg, Too Short are anybody like that? E-40.
Missy Elliott: Um. Snoop called the radio station while I was in LA on 92.3. He called and wants to do some stuff with me so of course I'm down with that. I'm down for gettin some West Coast love. You know. And it just good that we will be able to work together, cause I'm sick of the East Coast--West Coast stuff. I'm not from the East anyway or from the West.
Davey D: Where you from?
Missy Elliott: The South.
Davey D: What part?
Missy Elliott: Portsman, Virginia
Davey D: OK.
Missy Elliott: So, you know I'm down for spreading it everywhere. I think its enough for everybody. And so I plan on working with Snoop and Daz and Corrupt.
Davey D: How about someone from the Bay Area? Too Short, Hammer, E-40 any of those, Richie Rich, any of those guys?
Missy Elliott: I'm down. Like I said, I'm down for spreading it over here too. So if they call me, I don't think its too hard to be done.
Davey D: OK. When your writing a song and I mean a lot of your songs are so diverse, How do you get into a frame of mind to write it? Do you look at the artist and kind of figure out who they are, or do you have the concepts in your head and you just try to adapt them, or do you seek out artists to just put some of your ideas who you think that can best express your idea?
Missy Elliott: Um, no. I don't never look at the artist. I don't never say well if I do a song for TLC it has to be a Waterfalls type song, I just uh..
Davey D: Did you write that?
Missy Elliott: Naw, I didn't. I wish I had. Now, when I go in the studio, I just write what the track makes me feel. And if the track make me feel like its a sexy song, I'll write about a sexy song, or if the track makes me feel like a giving me a feeling like a guy would be cheating on me, then that's the kind of feel. I don't try to make songs fit for the artist, because like the Total song that we just did, to me that don't sound like Total like it would be on a Total record. But it puts them on that next level, so if I had a just been thinking, Total then I might would have did a 'Can't you See” type record. You know. And I think they wanted to go somewhere else. They wanted to be on that next level. So I never take it and try to fit something for that artist.
Davey D: Do you have any groups that are coming out of your camp? Anybody that you're gonna pull out the back pocket?
Missy Elliott: Um. Yeah. I got my own label, called 'Goldmine'. And uh, I have a 16 year old by the name of Nicole Ray that I am about to put out under my label.
Davey D: OK, cool. And also what would you say to people trying to make it into the business right now?
Missy Elliott: Uh. Just keep striving. I didn't go to college, cause I knew this is what I wanted. And for some people they might look all that as being real negative, but if you want something, you gonna keep going after it and you not gonna give up, no matter how long it takes. I didn't just pop up on the scene yesterday, I been here awahile and it's just cause I wanted it that bad and I kept my Faith in God and believed that He was gonna be with me all the way and He still here with and He still giving me Blessings, so you know that's what I would tell ya. And take care of your business first.
Davey D: Finally. With Hip Hop nowadays seems to be going in a direction where people are moving away from 'gangsta” type of material. Um. Do you see yourself putting out that type of music at all and do you see yourself getting political. You know doing something that would be more on the lines of like a Public Enemy, with singing or rapping in the back or something like that?
Missy Elliott: I can't tell right now. I mean not right now. I just like to make fun music. You know and I do too to stay away from 'gangsta” type rhyming because you look at TV and see all the negative things on TV all day long, and I think music should be a escape from all that and when people see John Doe died on TV or John Doe got killed they don't want to turn on their radio and hear about you shooting up, you running up in somebody house or you shipping this here, they want something that's gonna make them happy. On my album that's what I tried to do. I tried to take it back to the old school where it was just about battling you know, just about whether you had skills or not. Not on whether wearing this or you wearing that.
Davey D: OK. You do both singing and rapping?
Missy Elliott: Hmmm. Hmmm.
Davey D: OK. So which do you prefer?
Missy Elliott: Um. I prefer writing over both of them (laughs), but if I had to choose, I would say rhyming.
Davey D: Rhyming.
Missy Elliott: Hmmm. Hmmm.
Davey D: Ok. Well cool. I think I got just about most of all the stuff I wanted.
https://apnews.com/article/840f36aa18fa455caf2f28d5f77e1cca
Missy Elliott:
"People don’t know all the songs I’ve produced"
NEW YORK (AP) — Missy Elliott is known for her oddball, trippy videos and colorful rhymes, but says if she were a man, more people would know about the songs she’s written or produced for other acts, including Whitney Houston, Beyonce and Aaliyah.
“A lot of people don’t know a lot of records that I’ve written or produced, so that’s a highlight for me as a woman,” Elliott said in a recent interview with The Associated Press. “I always said if a man would have done half the records that I’ve done we would know about it. But we don’t know all the records I’ve done for other artists.”
Elliott is one of the few female producers in pop music. She has also worked on songs for Mary J. Blige, MC Lyte, Ciara, Ginuwine, TLC, SWV and Total. She’s getting some of her due credit at “VH1 Hip Hop Honors: All Hail the Queens,” to air live Monday night (9 p.m. EDT) from David Geffen Hall in New York City, where she will be honored alongside Queen Latifah, Lil Kim and Salt-N-Pepa.
Some of the artists that Elliott has crafted songs for or collaborated with will pay tribute to the rapper, including longtime partner Timbaland, Pharrell, Nelly Furtado, Monica, Fantasia, Remy Ma, Trina, Eve, Tweet, Keyshia Cole, Jazmine Sullivan and Raven Symone.
While Elliott, a four-time Grammy winner, is seen as one of the hardest-working acts in music, she says there’s always room for development. She remembers hearing Michael Jackson say he would “work harder” when asked if he’d do things differently in his career.
“I was just like, ‘Work harder? Like Mike, you moonwalked until your shoes were almost flip-flops. What else could you do?’” she said. “But it pushed me somewhere else because I feel like there’s always room for improvement.”
But it’s hard to think of improving when it comes to Elliott, one of the most respected and creative voices in music. The 45-year-old said she recently went down the YouTube vortex of eye-popping, innovative and futuristic music videos. While watching, she asked herself, ”‘What was I on?’”
“I know that was my smoke days, but I was like, ‘Whoa,’” she recalled with a laugh. “At the time I was doing it, those videos, I didn’t think much of it. I thought they were hot, but I didn’t critique it or go into detail or say, ‘Oh, this is some next-level (stuff).’ ... But the other day when I looked at them, I was like, ‘These videos are insane.’”
Elliott’s last studio album was 2005′s “Under Construction.” Last year she released the Pharrell-assisted single, “WTF (Where They From),” and said she has new music coming soon.
“I got some heaters. I most definitely got some heaters. I’m not going to say when they’re coming because, you know, I always think that’s the setup when you say it’s coming and you give a date and you don’t drop on that date — oh man! It’s like those fans out there will stone you,” she said, laughing. “I’m not saying the date, but I got some heaters.”
She’s also got her eye on areas outside of rap: “I want to dip my foot in some acting. And most definitely want to mentor upcoming artists and give them the wisdom that was given to me.”
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About
Missy Elliott is a living icon. For thirty years, she's been directing the global soundscape, visually reinventing herself and redefining pop music. Missy's career is multifaceted, as she's charted new creative territory through songwriting, rapping, singing, and producing, with style and grace. Her influence is broad - Elliott has inspired or collaborated with a number of heavy hitters, including Janet Jackson, Mariah Carey, Beyoncé, and the late Whitney Houston. No matter the time, her music and videos are always relevant, making her an cross-generational rap star with enough talent to keep her legacy alive for eons.
"The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)" was the debut collaboration between Harold "Hype" Williams and Missy Elliott. Along with costume designer June Ambrose, (and her oft-replicated) inflatable patent leather and vinyl suit and archival Alain Mikli shades, they shared long glimpses into the future. At this point, the world was deathly afraid of the 2000s. People wondered how technology would morph, how the government would handle swift changes, and what a new, punk Earth would look and feel like. Little did they know, all they had to do was look at Missy Elliott's videography to find answers. "The Rain", and the album Supa Dupa Fly, were both nominated for Grammy Awards in 1998.
Another one of Elliott's first videos as a solo artist was "Beep Me 911", a dollhouse-inspired take on love in the then-impending digital age. Directed by Earle Sebastian, the video showcased Missy's brand of feminism within romance - which demanded communication and respect in the midst of vulnerability. The clip also displayed her now-iconic dance technique, equal parts controlled and sporadic. As genius as it was and remains, it was merely a taste of what was to come.
Missy Elliott's next album, Da Real World, was gritty and reflective of the artist's duality. On the set of the "She's A Bitch" video, she said "Each time I gotta come a little different. And this [is] my first video from my second album, so I had to come different." And she did. Creating art at the intersection of Third-wave feminism and Hip-Hop's infamous misogyny, Missy reclaimed the word "bitch" and aligned it with strength and inner knowing. The Hype Williams-directed video remains one of the most expensive videos in history, and the LP spawned other singles, like "All In My Grill" and the "Hot Boyz" remix, (which spent a record-setting nearly 4 months at Number 1 on the Hot Rap Singles Chart, a record which still stands 20 years later). It was her second platinum album and proof that Missy was a permanent fixture in Hip-Hop.
In 2001, Elliott produced a thumping, cowbell-accented rework of Labelle's 1974 hit, "Lady Marmalade". Lil' Kim, Christina Aguilera, Mya, and P!nk were tapped for the chart-topping single that won a Grammy in 2002 for Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals. The video also won multiple MTV Video Music Awards in 2001 for Best Video from a Film and Video of the Year (plus a Japanese iteration of the MTV VMA Award), as well as three VH1 Awards, and two TMF Awards.
Missy has long been applauded for her spirit of camaraderie, eschewing the spats rap is known for and instead opting to bring people, namely women, together. She participated in the 1997 remix "Not Tonight", featuring a slew of talented, popular women in rap, including Left Eye of TLC, Lil' Kim, Angie Martinez, and Da Brat. The song won a Soul Train Lady of Soul Award for Best Video by a Female in 1998. Moreover, the rapper performed on the main stage at 1998's Lilith Fair, a music festival that exclusively featured women and women-fronted bands.
Her collaborative work with Aaliyah, and Timbaland, her long-time production partner and closest friend, stands out from the pack though. "[I]t was a different sound", Elliott shared with Associated Press in 2018. Together, Missy and Timbaland helped shift Aaliyah's sound, with Elliott's street smart, yet sweet, lyrics and the producer's rollicking, ticking instrumentals. R&B hadn't experienced anything quite like the trifecta, and they churned out nearly half of the material on Aaliyah's 1996 sophomore project, One In A Million. The album's second single, "If Your Girl Only Knew", (written by both Elliott and Timbaland) shot to Number 1 on Billboard's Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart. Missy and Timbaland also worked together on "I Care 4 U", one of Aaliyah's sultry, final singles that appeared on the singer's eponymous album.
Ever busy, Missy unveiled her third project, Miss E... So Addictive in May 2001. Her platinum-certified, third album exhibited her in peak form - lyrically adept, cheeky, and self-actualized. Singles, including "Get Ur Freak On" and "One Minute Man", were sex positive and danceable, both of which are recurring themes in Elliott's music. The video for the latter featured cameos by Black cultural figures, like Ludacris, Trina, Ginuwine, Shar Jackson, Timbaland, and more, and also promoted safe sex. "Get Ur Freak On" won a Grammy for Best Rap Solo Performance, an ASCAP Rhythm and Soul Award and an ASCAP Pop Music Award, a VIVA Comet Media Award for Best International Video, and a Soul Train Award for Best R&B/Soul or Rap Music Video. "Scream a.k.a. Itchin'" won a Grammy for Best Female Rap Solo Performance in 2003. It is worth noting that Elliott has won every ASCAP Rhythm & Soul Award she has been nominated for, spanning from 1998 to 2008.
Eliott kept the momentum going with Under Construction, which came just one year after its predecessor. "Work It" was the biggest hit from the project, and Missy broke the internet 15 years after the track was released when fans discovered that her lyrics were literally reversed for the chorus. The catchy cut found new ears again during the summer of 2018, when a clip of Mary Halsey performing it went viral. Missy and Mary performed it together on the Ellen show soon after. "Work It" won three ASCAP awards, a Billboard award for Hot[test] Rap Track, a Grammy for Best Female Rap Solo Performance, an International Dance Music Award, two MTV VMA's, and NAACP Award, a Soul Train award, a Soul Train Lady of Soul award, and a Vibe Award. So not only is "Work It" one of Missy's most decorated songs, but it has also stood the test of time.
This Is Not A Test and The Cookbook quickly followed, unleashed in 2003 and 2005, respectively. Missy's love of old school Hip-Hop was on full display during the This Is Not A Test era - in honor of the rappers of the mid-to-late 1980's, she wore bedazzled Adidas tracksuits, complete with one cropped, or embellished pant leg, matching hats, sneakers, and gleaming rope chains. The lyricist collaborated with Adidas between albums on the "Respect M.E." clothing line, cementing her status as a fashion-forward thinking diva. Missy also participated in the fifth M·A·C Viva Glam campaign that donated all revenue to the M·A·C AIDS Fund. In 2004, Elliott worked with Ciara in the beginning stages of her career, assisting the young starlet on "1, 2 Step", which claimed a Number 2 spot on the US Billboard Hot 100 and won her a Grammy for her verse. They also worked together on "Lose Control", a single from The Cookbook that won a Grammy for Best Short Form Music Video.
Since then, Missy Elliott has has been busy working on soundtrack material ("Ching-a-Ling" and "Shake Your Pom Pom"), loose singles like "I'm Better", as well as material with other established and rising artists. Elliott appeared on Keyshia Cole's "Let It Go" with longtime friend Lil' Kim, and regularly collaborated with Fantasia, Jazmine Sullivan and Monica. Though she is most famous for her solo work, Missy has lent vocals, production or her songwriting prowess to Tweet, 702, Total, Mary J. Blige, J. Cole and more. Elliott was given awards for her work as a visionary at BET's Black Girls Rock! Awards in both 2007 and 2010.
In 2015, Katy Perry invited Elliott to appear with her during her Super Bowl halftime show for an upbeat string of some of the rapper's biggest hits. The performance is still the most-watched halftime show in history and Missy Elliott's music sales received a digital boost. She was then granted the Innovator Award at the Billboard Women in Music Awards a few months later. The next year, the rap icon was lauded at the VH1 Hip Hop Honors and appeared in Marc Jacobs' Fall 2016 campaign.
In May 2019, Elliott received an honorary doctorate from the Berklee College of Music. She was then admitted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in June. On Monday, August 26th, she is set to receive the Michael Jackson Vanguard Award at the MTV Video Music Awards.
Missy Elliott has defined herself as avant-garde, and anyone who has followed her decades-long career would deem it a befitting descriptor. She has shown the world how empowering creativity can be, and why convention simply does not cut it. From the first time we saw her dancing and rhyming, while emitting words from her own famous lexicon, we knew that she was destined to be a superstar - and destiny has fulfilled itself many times over. Missy Elliott has inspired people for a multitude of reasons, across a plethora of fields, and it's safe to say that her work is nowhere near done. Just when you think she can't top herself, she does it, with masterful flair and a grin.
Written by Brooklyn White
https://www.interviewmagazine.com/music/new-again-missy-elliott
New Again: Missy Elliott
Missy Elliott changed the game for women in hip-hop. Before Nicki Minaj, before M.I.A., before Beyoncé struck out on her own, Missy Elliott was spitting lines that rivaled the wit of collaborators like Ludacris and Q-Tip. She burst onto the rap scene with Supa Dupa Fly (1997) and continued her ascent with albums like Miss E… So Addictive (2001), and Under Construction (2002), which featured the club anthem “Work It.” But even beyond her music, she was one of the first to do it all: Alongside musical partner Timbaland, she writes, produces, and sings all her own lines, and releases her material through her own label, The Goldmind, Inc. She’s notoriously independent, and it shows in her original, often eclectic aesthetic both musically and visually (she won the Grammy for short-form music video for “Work It” in 2004).
But Elliott hasn’t released a full-length solo effort since 2005’s The Cookbook. Instead, she’s made numerous guest appearances on tracks by the same women for whom she paved the way in the industry, the likes of Fantasia and Eve. Yesterday, longtime collaborator Timbaland told Rolling Stone the one and only Misdemeanor has something new in the works. “We got the hollow-tip bullet in the gun. We have the game-changer right there,” he said of the first single. “It’s something you ain’t never heard Missy do.”
Timbaland—née Timothy Mosley—hasn’t revealed the timeline for Elliott’s latest, but assures us it’s coming. Meanwhile, we’ve dug out this 1999 interview from the archives, where Missy explains to Michael Musto that she’s shy—no, really!—and talks Whitney Houston and the Jacksons. No matter the subject, from the role of women in music and fashion to comments about her weight, she’s refreshingly blunt, speaking with a candor rivaled only by her lyrics.—Katherine Cusumano
Master Missy
By Michael Musto
There’s no Svengali figure behind Missy Elliott. She’s the Svengali—the writer, the rapper, the singer, the producer, the label head.
Out of the musical fog created by bombastic belters, svelte sirens, and funkless divas, Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliott has emerged as a human wake-up call, a real-deal bundle of sass and style who does things her way. The pleasingly plumpish star emanates genuine girl power with her distinctly female protestations about the resistance women face when they’re confident and successful (which she is). In ’97, the Portsmouth, Va.-born ex-choir singer, née Melissa, released her smash debut, Supa Dupa Fly, and established herself as a singer-rapper-writer with a welcome penchant for humor and positivity. Since then she’s performed at Lilith Fair, produced the soundtrack for Why Do Fools Fall in Love (1998), developed artists for her own record label (Goldmind), and worked with the likes of Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey. She’s back with the CD Da Real World (Elektra), featuring guest stars Eminem, Aaliyah, and Destiny’s Child, and the single “She’s a Bitch,” an answer to all the name-calling that greets her type of ambition. A more accurate epithet would be the distaff Quincy Jones—she’s a bitch of a talent. And with her unconventional approach and severe distaste for BS, she’s probably da realest girl in da biz right now.
MICHAEL MUSTO: Tell me about your new song, “She’s a Bitch.”
MISSY ELLIOTT: Music is a male-dominated field. Women are not always taken as seriously as we should be, so sometimes we have to put our foot down. To other people that may come across as being a bitch, but it’s just knowing what we want and being confident. If I’m paying people and they’re not handling my business right, I have to check them. ‘Cause sometimes you’re nice and people don’t jump on what they’re supposed to do, but if you go in there screaming at everybody—”Look, why aren’t my posters up?” or “Why wasn’t my single out on this day?”—then they jump right on it.
MUSTO: A guy wouldn’t have to do all that?
ELLIOTT: For a guy, though, it’s just considered aggressive. You don’t hear people call males bitches. But I’ve heard that people talk that way about Chaka Khan. And Aretha Franklin: If it was cold in the studio, she’d put the mike down and leave. Someone who sees her act like that may say, “She’s a bitch,” but she just means business when she says, “Yo, please have the heat up when I get here.” Of course, nobody’s gonna call her a bitch to her face. But I hear makeup artists all the time saying, “Oh, I had to do such-and-such’s makeup. She’s a bitch.” When it’s just that such-and-such knows how she wants her face. With the new single, a lot of people were like, “Wow, you’re taking a chance with that title.” But it’s really taking off.
MUSTO: This is your second CD. After the big success of the first one, do you have sophomore jitters?
ELLIOTT: Oh, yeah, you’re gonna be nervous dealing with a sophomore, a junior anything. [laughs] There’s always pressure for it to be hotter than the last album, so you critique it harder.
MUSTO: Was it important for you to have a lot of guest stars on this record?
ELLIOTT: I like collaborating, but I felt I should do my first single by myself so people don’t think I’m leaning on other artists to be a success.
MUSTO: I’ve heard it said you want to be a female Quincy Jones.
ELLIOTT: People ask, “What do you think about being called Puff Mommy?” Puff’s a very successful young man, so I don’t have a problem if that’s what they wanna call me. If anybody calls me a female Quincy Jones, that’s way, way complimentary. That’s something I’ll cherish for life.
MUSTO: But are you afraid that focusing on the entrepreneurial aspect won’t leave you enough time for your music?
ELLIOTT: No, because I really enjoy writing and producing for other artists. Some people save their best songs for their own albums. I’d rather give another artist one of my songs. At the end of the day, it still represents me.
MUSTO: What do you feel is your strongest talent—the rapping, the writing?
ELLIOTT: The writing. I’ve always had an imagination and I listen to a lot of different writers. If you listen to my songs, they tell stories. I don’t write in song form, I write almost as if I’m in conversation with somebody. That’s my way of getting something off my chest. The rapping is cool, but my lines aren’t all that fly. People like Biggie Smalls or Jay-Z who say stuff that you have to rewind and listen to twice and be like, “Wow, what made them say that?” or “I would have never thought about saying that”—those are rappers I really look up to. As far as flows, I can give you flows all day.
MUSTO: You produced the soundtrack for Why Do Fools Fall in Love, which had contemporary spins on Frankie Lymon’s music rather than his music itself.
ELLIOTT: Right. Frankie Lymon was hot in his day, but if you put that on the shelf right now, people wouldn’t run out and say, “I have to get the Frankie Lymon soundtrack.”
MUSTO: But why make a movie if you have no confidence in the music it’s based on? The studio seemed a little embarrassed in the way they put out a soundtrack that didn’t have much to do with Frankie.
ELLIOTT: I don’t think they would’ve put up money to even do a movie if they were embarrassed. That’s kinda crazy. If they have money to put out movies they’re embarrassed by, I have a couple of ideas!
MUSTO: Me, too! Did you like the movie?
ELLIOTT: I loved the actors and actresses in it, but the movie didn’t grab me. I think if it had gotten more into the drugs, it would have been more interesting to me. I guess I’m more into thrillers and comedies.
MUSTO: If you had to give out the Missy Elliott award for best movie of the year, what would you pick?
ELLIOTT: The Matrix. That gets five thumbs up. I could see it three more times.
MUSTO: I heard you were the class clown back in your school days.
ELLIOTT: Oh, yeah. I always made people laugh, and everybody wanted me to sit at the table with them. Or during a break we’d be hanging out and people would be like, “Missy, come over here. Look at his shoes,” and they’d know I would start joking. I don’t joke as much as I used to, but I can still be a little comedian every now and then.
MUSTO: Somebody told me you’re actually really shy, but I can see that isn’t true at all.
ELLIOTT: No, I really am. I’m not a party person. You may catch me at a Puffy party every now and then, but I’m not out like that all the time. I’m close to my mother, and I could sit talking on the phone with her all day. Right now it’s just me and you in the room, but if there were five or six other people in here, I’d start getting wheezy and thinking everybody’s staring at me, and then I get like Carrie—”They’re all gonna laugh at you.”
MUSTO: How about when there are 20,000 people out there?
ELLIOTT: I just block everybody out. With six people in here, we’re this close, so they’re looking in my face and it feels like they’re waiting for me to mess up a word or something. People at a concert are farther away, and with the lights I can’t really see their faces.
MUSTO: Do you ever worry about disappointing people who’ve paid a lot of money to see you, or do you have utter confidence when you take the stage?
ELLIOTT: I pretty much have confidence. I’m the type of person who’ll run out into the audience. I’ll be onstage and say, “Stop the music,” and everybody starts screaming ’cause they think I’m leaving. And then the lights shine down on me and I’m in the crowd, so they feel connected to me at that point. When people feel like they can get that close to you, you don’t have to sing or rap a word.
MUSTO: Do you ever take a second to look back and appreciate all the great things that have happened to you?
ELLIOTT: Oh, yeah. I remember in school writing Janet Jackson and Michael Jackson and asking them to come get me out of class. I would imagine then running down the hall and asking my teacher, “Ms. Daniels, can we get Missy out of class? We’re here to see Missy.” My imagination was always wild like that. So when I got a call from Janet, just to hear her say she loved my music, it was like a blessing. It was a dream come true to get a call from Mariah, to get a call from Whitney. Those are major people I’ve always dreamed of working with, and now I’m just waiting on Michael Jackson to call…
MUSTO: What about Latoya? You never wrote Latoya?
ELLIOT: [laughs] No, I didn’t get a chance to write Latoya.
MUSTO: Someone like Whitney just calls to tell you she likes your music?
ELLIOTT: She called me one day and I didn’t believe it was her. When I got off the phone, I screamed so loud. She was so down-to-earth: “What up girl? This is Whitney.” I’m like, “Yeah, right. Whatever. Stop playing.” And then I realized it was her and said, “I love you, I love your music.” She was like, “I wanna do something with you on my album.” Just to hear that come from somebody who’s had the success she’s had, sold the records she has… I would never have thought I could sit in the same room with Whitney and we’d laugh and joke like we’ve known each other for years.
MUSTO: Do people make too much of your plus-size image?
ELLIOTT: Not now, ’cause I’m losing weight. [laughs] But no one has ever, in magazines, made fun of my size. I get healthy women come up to me all the time saying, “I’m so glad you opened up the door for us. I was sick of seeing skinny women on TV.” They respect me for my music—and that’s another blessing from God. ‘Cause it could have been that people were just not having it: “You’re not a one-two, so you need to move over. We want to see the girl who can fit in a bikini, not the girl who gotta have on the shorts and the t-shirt ’cause she don’t want her stomach to show.”
MUSTO: How much weight have you lost?
ELLIOTT: I’ve lost 30-some pounds, but not because I felt like I had to be in that rank with other small females. I wanted to be in good health for my shows ’cause I do a lot of dancing and running around, and I don’t want my heart to fail on me. I go to the gym maybe three days a week, and I do exercises every day—300 hundred crunches, two hundred leg lifts. Sometimes I have to smack my hand ’cause I still have sweets in my cabinet and sometimes I gotta move a Twinkie over to get a protein bar and I’m like, “Maybe just a little piece of this Twinkie won’t hurt me.”
MUSTO: Do you think people are too hard on Calista Flockhart [the actress who play’s TV’s Ally McBeal] for being so thin?
ELLIOTT: I really don’t know her situation. I have a couple friends who are really, really skinny who eat all day long, like football players, and they never gain weight! Meanwhile I’m nibbling some lettuce, you know, or a little piece of chicken meat. So if she can’t help it, I think people should lay off her, but if she’s going to the bathroom and throwing up because she feels like this is the fly look of the year, then she’s bugging.
MUSTO: Everything I’ve read about you is so sickeningly positive. Do you ever get bad press?
ELLIOTT: I’m pretty much a happy person, so it’s kind of hard to write something bad about somebody who doesn’t give off negativity. Every day is not a beautiful day for anybody, but I try to treat all my fans nice and all the interviewers nice. When it comes to people getting in my business, though, I have a problem. When interviewers ask me who I’m sleeping with or if I don’t like such-and-such or what is my sexuality, that’s not beneficial to the world. They need to ask me about stuff that may help readers, like how my father abused my mother for many years. A lot of kids go through that and need to know what they should do.
MUSTO: Too bad, because my next question was going to be, Who do you sleep with? [Elliott laughs] Instead, let me ask this: When you did the Gap commercial, were you at all afraid of over-exposure or getting too corporate?
ELLIOTT: Nah. I mean, shoot, I was happy. I’m getting into commercials, and from commercials, maybe I’ll get into movies. Matter of fact, I hope they call me again. I had a lot of fun. It’s amazing—it took 10 to 12 hours for just that little bit. I told my friends, “Come pick me up, I’ll be finished in an hour.” So an hour passed and I’m still doing the same thing over and over. I commend people who do commercials where they eat cereal or a hamburger. Their stomach must be swollen when they’re done. When I saw the ad, I was like, “OK, that’s hot. So where the other part at? There’s gotta be an extended version.”
MUSTO: A director’s cut. What can you tell me about shooting the “She’s a Bitch” video?
ELLIOTT: I want to keep it a secret, but the director, Hype Williams, tells me that this video will knock any other video off the TV. [laughs] Now if it don’t, he said it, I didn’t. Those are Hype Williams’s words.
MUSTO: His name is Hype. [both laugh] Thank you, Missy.
ELLIOTT: All right, buddy. Be safe.
THIS ARTICLE INTIALLY APPEARED IN THE JUNE 1999 ISSUE OF INTERVIEW.
https://theface.com/archive/missy-elliot-the-face-archive-1999-da-real-world-rap-interview
As immortalised in Mark Alesky’s stunning cover photography, in early 1999 they didn’t come any more supa, dupa or flyer than Missy Elliott. That spring, ace FACE writer Sylvia Patterson was in Los Angeles to meet hip-hop’s reigning queen. Elliot was unveiling Da Real World, the follow-up to 1997’s Supa Dupa Fly, a best-selling, genre-changing, seven-day wonder. That’s how long it took to record, in the studio of her fellow Virginian and producing/songwriting partner Timbaland.
Da Real World took a whole month and, as Patterson wrote, “is the unsurpassably creative, zenith-defining hip-hop sound of 1999. Missy has just gone and reinvented hip-hop. Again.”
As she tells Patterson: “This is an album for the females. It’s a build-a-self-esteem album, ’cause it’s still a male-dominated world… And I feel like it’s time for us to get our own, set our own boundaries and goals.”
Twenty years and 30 million sales later, Elliott is still twisting, turning and surprising – in August she appeared (alongside Madonna) on The Blessed Madonna’s Dua Lipa remix album track Levitating.
Back in ’99, though, despite already having a songwriting/production catalogue 10 million sales-deep, the 27-year-old was just getting started. And she was taking nothing for granted. “Missy is a proper woman who understands the importance of a fabulous hairdo,” wrote Patterson. “She takes her own salon-sized, helmet-like hairdryer everywhere she goes.”
Which is why she’s sitting under it during her interview with Patterson. All hail Missy.
President Clinton is declaring his country’s role in the Kosovo war “America at its best!”; a doped-up white punk called Fred Durst from “alternative” hip-hop herberts Limp Bizkit is co-hosting auditions for MTV’s You Can Be A VJ, Too! competition; a woman on the Home Shopping Channel is advertising a revolutionary technique where – “for forty naahn-nanny-nan!” – you can “breathe yourself thin…”
Meanwhile, on this April afternoon, inside a recording studio in uptown LA, 27-year-old hip-hop/R&B/soul pioneer Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliott is unveiling an album called Da Real World and a single called She’s A Bitch, saying: “To me, a bitch is a female basically knowing what she wants. I want to turn ‘bitch’ into a power word.” One of these people knows what she’s talking about. And it isn’t the one with her lungs in a loop-the-loop.
“A lotta times, we camouflage soooo much that’s goin’ on. If it’s rainin’ outside, we try to pretend it’s sunny. We camouflage that our teenagers go out, smoke weed, have sex, act like it’s not happenin’. In my house – and my mother was a very religious lady – when I went out, I’d get in a circle with my friends an’ be, ‘Shit! Fuck!’ (mimes smoking enormous blunt), just to see what it was like! So I’m givin’ it to you the way it is. How it is in the real world”
– Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliott
Missy Elliott glows with gorgeousness. Perfect skin, deep-deep brown almond eyes brimful of warmth and laughter. Lips made for all the sensual thrills you could imagine. Everything about her speaks of geniality, confidence and inner security.
She’s dressed loud in a silky blue white tracksuit, nails long and white, grin big as her guffaw, voice deep and steady and full of ‘y’all’s and ’ dag!’s and the bewitching vernacular of Virginia in the American southeast – Virginnee, cradle of The Waltons.
Right now, Missy is sitting in a leather chair in front of a vast console in Enterprise Studios, Burbank, Southern California. In the recording complex’s wood-panelled main production room there is a four-foot-wide television by the door, a plate of Smartie-topped cookies on top of the console and, perched around a raised section at the back, half-a-dozen TV journalists from Germany, Britain and Japan.
German bloke: “Ur, did you think about having all female guest artists on your alboom?”
Missy: “No!”
Like the world’s least formal conductress, Missy holds aloft one of several sheets of paper scattered over the console – a blob of pink bubblegum stuck to its corner indicates which one to consult. This is the finalised running order for Da Real World, the follow-up to Supa Dupa Fly. Missy’s 1.5 million-selling, genre-changing debut album was written and recorded in seven days in the Portsmouth, Virginia studio of Missy’s collaborator and fellow Virginian, Tim “Timbaland” Moseley.
Da Real World took a whole month – there was a little more pressure on them. By the end of 1996, the songwriting and producing double act had already sold 10 million records, making Missy a 24-year-old millionaire.
But after the 1997 release of their first album as artists, things got bigger still: with Supa Dupa Fly and its breakout singles The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly), Sock It 2 Me and Beep Me 911, they redefined the sound of young, Black, urban America – and, consequently, of young, white, suburban America.
At 5’2”, Missy Elliott is comedy short. Her legs are dangling, not quite reaching the floor as she reaches over and presses play on the console. As the first track from Da Real World throbs through the six-foot speakers parked in each corner of the room, she grins and punches the air.
She’s A Bitch – originally the album’s title, but changed to ensure its availability in the tot-friendly K‑Marts of America – is Missy’s personal mission to redefine the word “bitch”. Deep and dark, it is the punchy sound of a young woman tired of male “aggression” being seen as bold and positive when a female’s aggression makes her a negative “bitch”.
“I don’t have a problem being called a bitch if I know what I want, knowhumsayin’?” Missy declares. “I didn’t want to shy away from the word and get scared, ‘cause I’m an edgy person.” To this end, she is attempting to gather recorded opinions on the word “bitch” from Whitney, Lauryn, Lil’ Kim and Kelly Price – “all the females” – for one of three interludes on the finished album.
Elsewhere, other guest stars step up to the mic – among them Da Brat, OutKast’s Big Boi, Destiny’s Child, Aaliyah, Redman and Eminem. She discovered Eminem “months ago”, through Timbaland’s recommendation. “Dr Dre got this white boy, you gotta hear him, he is off the hook…”
“There’s three things I hate,” mewls Eminem on the track Funky White Boy, “girls, women and bitches… “Furthermore: “They call me Boogie Knight, the stalker that walks awkward /Stick figure with a dick bigger than Mark Wahlberg /Coming from the airport, sluggish /I’m walking on crutches, hit a fucking pregnant bitch in the stomach with luggage…”
And then Missy eventually kills him.
“Eminem, he’s bugged!” she declares, enthusiastically. “One thing I liked about him, he wasn’t tryin’ to act like he was Black. He was just himself. He wasn’t in the studio with his pants hangin’ off, like, ‘Yo, dude. Yo, Missy.’ He was: ‘I want you to hear this… You like it? You sure?’ He really respected whether I thought it was hot or not. I knew he was gonna blow up, he was somethin’ different, this edgy-edgy rapper like a Marilyn Manson on the rap side.”
Da Real World is funky, furious, filthy, intense, beautiful, dark, vivid, bold and funny, swaggering from multi-voiced hip-hop belligerence to beautiful, deepest soul. Gone, mostly, are the endless staccato percussive beats, replaced by a bewildering spectrum of epic-stringed orchestral dynamics, wiggly keyboards, pancreas-boiling basslines and snatches of laughter and jibes from Timbaland (“Uh oh! You done it now! Missy mad!”).
All that, and the sexiest “uh uh uh” sounds ever invented. Da Real World is the unsurpassably creative, zenith-defining hip-hop sound of 1999. Missy Elliott has just gone and reinvented hip-hop. Again. “It’s a step up from the last album, right?” grins Missy. The small Enterprise audience whoops, stunned, impressed, sonically bludgeoned to dust. “Or maybe it’s me that’s buggin’…”
“It’s still a male-dominated world and a lot of times our self-esteem be very low. We become very dependent on men. And I feel like it’s time for us to get our own, set our own boundaries and goals.”
--Missy Elliot
Missy Elliott is unique. She doesn’t sell records through sex, because she doesn’t have to. She comes without a dope-puffin’ entourage – only the big security man Rich and her tour manager, friend and cousin Jamaike. Until very recently, she had no manager. She is a writer, producer and artist, hip-hop’s first female multimedia mogul, releasing her own records on her own label, The Gold Mind Inc, thus ensuring 100 per cent creative control over her sound, lyrics, image and overall vision.
She’ll take corporate cash from Gap commercials (“I love the Gap commercials!”) to build girders for her empire. She doesn’t believe in “false images” of perfection, and has never appeared in a video in the back of a limo swilling champagne up against a billow-shirted loverman.
A proper pop star, Missy understood the importance of the high camp, high concept video. So she is less ass-aloft, fox-force pervstress in thigh-totin’ leatherette boots, more Bootsy Collins-style living cartoon in a fluorescent green jumpsuit and red plastic spectacles.
In Hype Williams’ video for Sock It 2 Me, she became a videogame superhero flying through cyberspace. Missy and Williams – her other key collaborator – had changed the acceptable face of hip-hop forever. It was interesting again. It was funny. Williams’ grand idea for She’s A Bitch remains “a secret”, although its physicality demands, for the first time, that Missy must first see a doctor. And probably – in the wake of Williams’ $2 million epic for Busta Rhymes and Janet Jackson’s What’s It Gonna Be – an accountant, too.
Two days after the first public airing of Da Real World, Missy Elliott is cosied down in suite 487 of the Nikko Hotel, West Hollywood. Missy is a proper woman who understands the importance of a fabulous hairdo. She takes her own salon-sized, helmet-like hairdryer everywhere she goes. Right now, its enormous circular dome swoops over the desk of her suite like an anglepoise lamp from outer space.
Missy sits patiently under it, clasping both sides. Glowing in morning-fresh, made-up perfection, she’s dressed down in a black “mall” T‑shirt, a platinum and diamond crucifix hanging from her neck.
“This is an album for the females,” says Missy, clearly and evenly over the hairdryer’s whirr. “It’s a build-a-self-esteem album, ‘cause it’s still a male-dominated world and a lot of times our self-esteem be very low. We become very dependent on men. And I feel like it’s time for us to get our own, set our own boundaries and goals.”
In 1989, while in her last year in high school in Portsmouth, Missy Elliott and her neighbour Tim Moseley created a group with three friends. They were called Sista and they spent a year winning all the local talent shows .Sista’s break came in 1990, when a tour by swingbeat boy-band Jodeci pitched up in their hometown.
Worming their way backstage, Sista bombarded the boys with enthusiasm. An impressed Devante Swing, Jodeci’s writer producer, engineered a deal with his label for the group who soon became known throughout the record industry as “the female Jodeci”. But by 1994 Missy’s dream was dissolving in the fall-out from Devante and the company’s “creative differences”.
Sista’s debut album, the promising, swingbeat-smooth, harmonised grooves of 4 All The Sistas Around Da World, was never released. Songwriter Missy, approaching 22, was told by a legion of record company executives she would never make it as solo artist because she didn’t fit the mould. Which is to say she was big, and therefore not stereotypically, marketably beautiful.
Depressed, her self-esteem plummeted to “the lowest level. I thought, I just don’t have the look to be an artist.” She abandoned the idea of being a frontwoman in favour of behind-the-scenes songwriting. She began sending demos to “everyone”, just as she’d always done, from the age of 11. One of the recipients, Faith Evans, spread news of a brilliant young writing and producing pair – and they weren’t from rap’s twin power-poles, New York and LA, nor from big metropolitan centres like Chicago or Atlanta. This pair were from Hicksville, Virginia.
Work began to come the way of Missy and Timbaland. Their breakthrough hit was Aaliyah’s lf Your Girl Only Knew, and they went on to write most of her huge 1996 album, One In A Million. They wrote Can We for TLC, had it rejected, then saw it turn into a career-reviving hit for SWV. Then there’s Lil Kim’s Not Tonight, 702’s Steelo, Mariah Carey’s Baby Doll, Janet Jackson’s Go Deep remix, two forthcoming collaborations with Puff Daddy.
Missy guested on swingbeat sensation Gina Thompson’s The Thing That You Do, its highlight the now-signature guffaw which branded Missy forever as the “hee-haw girl”. Then in 1997 came Supa Dupa Fly. Beguilingly inspirational, it created a brand new soundscape of mesmerising slow beats, unfathomably intricate instrumentations, funk-pop swagger, wit, class and a “cack-a-cack-a-cack” trademark vocal.
The weak, exhausted, sample-strewn mire of R&B clichés was obliterated forever. The Beastie Boys’ Mike D declared that the pair had “saved hip-hop”. Thus, in the last 18 months, the entire culture of American hip-hop/R&B has taken their signature themes as a blueprint for success – whether it’s TLC, Jay‑Z or Blackstreet, everyone wants a piece of this post-Supa Dupa Fly soul. Which is why Missy Elliott and Timbaland have bombed their own past and created a new future altogether with Da Real World.
“Hip-hop used to be this thing where it was our voice, our expression. It’s losing the meaning.”
--Missy Elliot
It’s a Black album. A woman’s album. A rap album. Missy Elliott’s “Girl’s Guidelines For A Better Way Of Life”:
– Get paid: financial independence will save your life.
– Get laid: but hands off the married and thereabouts.
– Don’t give a care whether anyone else “thinks you’re cute or not. I been through it myself and had to be strong enough to say: ‘I’m gonna do it anyway.’”
– Believe only in “inner beauty” – everything else is a lie.
They’re sound and simple ideologies based on homestead realities Something solid to believe in. Something recently missing from hip-hop, the once life-defining music she loves.
“It’s losing the meaning,” Missy is saying as she emerges from beneath the hairdryer. Hair fixed in intricate coils, she sits back in her seat, all blink-free, beguiling, impassioned eyes.
“Hip-hop used to be this thing where it was our voice, our expression. And now it’s almost like a game to get on the other side – ‘I gotta get on the pop side!’ We’re not comin’ through like it used to be back in the Run DMC and Whodini days where they didn’t care. They were just doin’ it ’cause they had the love of it.”
In the late-Nineties’ billion-dollar Hip-Hop Business, more celebration is bugled over Puffy’s restaurant franchise than his sonic “revolution” in turning Black R&B into white, universal pop.
“Puffy’s a good business person,” muses Missy, “but when you get that large you do kinda be scared to step away, to go back here.”
You’re not, though.
“Oh no, not me,” she hoots as if the idea had never entered her sphere of reference. Missy, of course, can have her cake and eat it: she can make radical, dark records like Da Real World for herself while writing pop tunes for, say, Mel B. Their hip-pop single I Want You Back was less Mel “buying into” Missy’s cool, more Missy “buying into” Mel’s fame.
“I felt like a little groupie!” Missy guffaws. “This is Scary Spice in the studio!”
Mel, meanwhile, had phoned Missy’s record company and said: “Are you sure she’s got the right person?” Meanwhile Timbaland, the Norman Cook of hip-hop, has just produced Mel’s latest solo endeavour, a cover of Cameo’s Word Up. But it may be the last of its type. “We gotta start pickin’ and choosin’”, he told Missy, “take on somebody who’s already got that credibility so they won’t be using us to rebuild their careers.”
“Amazingly, my father never hit me. He’d pull a gun on us, but he never hit me with it. But he put the gun to my mother’s head.”
--Missy Elliot
Face photo shoot, Mia House Photographic Studios, Hollywood. 11am.
Today, Missy’s phone leaves her ear only to film her TV interviews, which she does with good grace and advanced professionalism. State of mind of hairdresser China: evangelical (she’s handing out born-again Christian good-news pamphlets, entitled The Mistake, to the assembled).
State of lungs of make-up man Billy B: doomed. (“You know you be a serious cigarette smoker when you got one behind your ear and one on the go already!” Missy jokes.)
Brand of Missy’s make-up: Mac. Brand of today’s lime-green baseball shirt and crotch-to-knees jeanswear: Nappy. Trainers: Green Nike Air. Number of sets of false eyelashes displayed on the dressing-room table: 35.
Value of platinum and diamond jewellery currently being cleaned in a plastic cup half-filled with water and about to be affixed to the fingers, neck and wrists of Missy Elliott: half a million dollars. Probably more.
Back in her hotel, Missy Elliott announces herself “pretty good” at relationships. However, at the notion of her fantasy beau – the horror, the horror! – Michael Jackson, she squeals in ecstasy. “I’m the biggest Michael Jackson groupie ever!” she swoons. “I love him regardless! But I preferred the big nose Michael.”
Sometimes, when she’s seeing someone new, her man will tell her he “has to stop off somewhere”, drive her to a house and leave her in the car. Then half his neighbourhood, primed for this moment, will emerge, staring out of their windows. Other times, men are intimidated.
“They do see me as a threat ’cause I’m financially so independent,” she nods. “I got five cars. They're all new. Three 1999s and two 1998s. Two big houses. Jewellery. I’m a millionaire. A lot of my friends, they be like: ‘Well, he gotta have some kinda dough!’ At this point, for me, it’s gotta be about love – but I’m not gonna settle for just anythin’, ’cause I’ve done so much for myself. So now I’m like: ‘Um, so you say your grade point average is what? You plannin’ on bein’ a doctor or what?’ And he’s like: ‘Oh God, she one of those high class bitches.’ Hihihih!”
Melissa Elliott was born in the coastal town of Portsmouth, Virginia on July 1, 1971 to Ronnie and Patricia Elliott. She grew up an only child in an atmosphere of catatonic terror. All through her childhood, she lived with the constant threat of brutal violence. Her father would regularly assault her mother.
“Amazingly, my father never hit me. He’d pull a gun on us, but he never hit me with it. But he put the gun to my mother’s head,” she says, holding up two fingers, point-blank, to her temple.
“Pulled her arm out of the socket, beat her real bad. Very, very, very, very violent. It wasn’t spells of abuse – it was every other day, all day long, constantly. We lived a very, very harsh life of so much fear. I never wanted to go and do the things other little kids did. I had friends that had sleepovers, but I would never wanna go and stay ’cause I didn’t know when I would come home and find my mother dead.”
Ask why they couldn’t get away from him and she lifts a hand, palm upward, in a gesture which says: “That’s the problem, right there.” She considers, evenly, how so many men, to varying degrees, create victims of women. How they demolish the spirit, isolate through fear, leave a woman dependent on the thing that’s killing her.
“It’s this point of becoming dependent,” she says. “My mother felt like she couldn’t make it without him. They cut you off, from all your friends, everyone. That’s how they do it.”
By the age of 11, Missy was writing her own songs and sending demo tapes to her heroes: Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson, Diana Ross and, strangely, the UK’s sub-Jacksons poppets Five Star. Every day, at school, she checked the mailbox for replies. All through adolescence, she believed one of them would come and take her away. She’d stare out of the classroom window and visualise the white stretch limo smoothing along the path, stopping, the window rolling down and Michael Jackson’s white, glittery glove waving out, beckoning her inside.
Inevitably, Missy found herself “breakin’ down, constantly”. So much so that her aunts thought she needed psychiatric help. But Patricia refused to let a doctor make her daughter feel she was “crazy and sick”, refused to sedate her with medication. It was those breakdowns that gave her mother the courage to leave. One day, she told Missy, aged 14, to walk to the bus stop as if she were going to school. Patricia waited until Ronnie drove off to work, then loaded the contents of their home into a U‑Haul truck brought by Missy’s uncles and cousins.
Missy’s last years at school were spent saving lunch money to buy toothpaste and deodorant. Her grades were so bad, they came in at P – dunce level. The teachers, convinced she had a learning disability, made her sit an intelligence test. The results showed she was “a genius”.
Told she wouldn’t now graduate without across-the-board A’s, Missy went home, turned off the TV and phone and began studying. She passed every one of her exams with the requisite A. She refused, however, to go to college. “I knew I’d be wastin’ my mother’s money,” she shrugs, “I was so into doin’ my music.” To this day, says Missy, “I never worked a day in my life. Not even for a hour. So I think… music saved me from bein’ a bum!”
Recently, she has started to worry that her father might “get mad an ’ try and do something now.” Patricia cut the ties a long time ago, but Missy sees him now and again, even giving him money.
Why would you feel obliged to give him anything?
“You know, it’s just… my heart.”
That’s a pretty huge heart.
“Well… ah… yeah,” says Missy, perennial ebullience momentarily fading, as she shifts uncomfortably on the hotel suite’s oversize sofa. “If he asks me for money, I’ll give him some. I’ll be like: ‘Here.’ It’s pretty cold.”
Do you forgive him?
“Um… Right now, I’m not hating him. I haven’t forgotten. No, I don’t forgive him.”
Insecurity and fear – it really is the Devil at work, isn’t it?
(One eyebrow aloft, steely stare) “Yep. Exactly. Eeexaaaactly.”
And defeating this demon has made you something of a freedom fighter, hasn’t it?
(Beams) “Oh yeah. Oh yeah.”
In fact, freedom is exactly what you represent.
(Missy nods, huge smile) “Hmm, hmmn. Yep.”
“It would be nice if I could get on one little mic and the world would listen, and I’d be like, ‘Go and hug somebody! Just… anybody!’ ”
Missy Elliot
Interview with The Big Breakfast, Mia House Photographic Studios, Hollywood, 1.30pm. A standard TV interview in which we discover that Missy is slightly miffed that she didn’t receive an invitation to Mel B’s wedding or baby shower.
Australian interviewer woman: “We now need you to do an ID. If you could say: ‘Hi, this is Missy Elliott, this is my new video, it’s sizzling,’ or ‘it sizzles,’ or, ‘Hi, I’m sizzling.’ You’ve got to use that word.”
Missy: “OK. (Transforms instantaneously into previously unseen supa fly hip-hop diva persona) ‘One-two, one-two, y’all’s with Missy ‘Misdemeanor’ Elliott right here, prrrrrrt! (from back of tongue) Ck-ck! Poooo! And y’all gonna watch mah video, my new video, and it’s sizzlin’ like bacon, baby, (licks finger) tsssssss! Aye-eeee (wink).’”
Missy Elliott’s story is a modern-day fairy tale. Through the might of her own will, she has triumphed. In stark contrast to the enforced victim mentality of her former life, since 1997 there has been no one telling Melissa Elliott what to do.
She finds the incalculable amounts of money she makes just hilarious. Its main advantage is not to build her empire but to build security for her family first and ultimately herself. Looks after her aunt, her cousins, her friends, gives her godson “toys for days!” Today, she sent her mum out to buy herself diamond earrings. She gave her $30,000 for Christmas.
So far, Gold Mind represents five new artists signed by Missy: 18-year-old hip-hop-soul singer Nicole, TC (“the bad Usher”), female rapper Mocha, young singer/songwriter Torrey Carter and male rapper Danga Mouf. Recently, she got drunk with Whitney Houston, for whom she wrote Oh Yes and In My Business.
Whitney drank her under the table. Is there anything Missy Elliott wants that she doesn’t have?
Missy pauses, hugely, for the very first time, her big, heavily-lashed eyes flitting round her hotel suite. “Nnn… no,” she finally announces. “I’m pretty much blessed with everything that I’ve ever wanted. Pretty much. Yep.”
In 1999, Missy Elliott is a happy person who isn’t pretending to be happy anymore. Where Lauryn Hill floats, sky-high, through the spiritual ether, looking back to a sepia-toned yesteryear, Missy strides across the open ground ahead, each year a new barrier to crumble, a new sound to conceive, a funny joke to tell. They are equal but opposite miseducators.
Do you think you’ve made the world a better place to live in?
“Woooo!” hollers Missy, and rocks in her seat, head flung back, mouth wide open to the point of flip-top cartoonery, teeth everywhere, crucifix jiggling in time to the giggling.
“That’s a deep statement! There’s so much more to go. We gotta clean it up, period. One person couldn’t make it better – the President can’t make it better. It would be nice if I could get on one little mic and everybody over the whole world could listen to what I say and I be like: (bawls) ‘Go an’ hug somebody! Just hug… anybody! Go give to the bums!’ That would be a beautiful thing!”
You hippy.
“Hihihih! But it don’t work like that. I be picturin’ me walkin’ up in shoot-out (holds both arms out in police ‘stop’ gesture): ‘Ey! Why you doin’ this?’ And they be puttin’ their guns down: ‘Oh, we sorry, Missy!’”
There’s a great Eastern philosophical truism which goes: “Save one life and you save the world.”
“Oh yeah? Hey! Well… I’ve probably done that. Yeah. I guess I probably have.”
America at its best. Hip-hop at its best. Bitches at their best. Sometimes, superheroes are for real.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missy_Elliott
Missy Elliott
Missy Elliott in 2015
Melissa Arnette Elliott (born July 1, 1971),[1] better known by her stage name Missy Elliott, is an American rapper, singer, and songwriter. She embarked on her music career with R&B girl group Sista in the early-mid 1990s and later became a member of the Swing Mob collective along with childhood friend and longtime collaborator Timbaland, with whom she worked on projects for American R&B acts Aaliyah, 702, Total, and SWV. Following several collaborations and guest appearances, she launched her solo career on July 15, 1997, with her debut album Supa Dupa Fly, which spawned the top 20 single "Sock It 2 Me". The album debuted at number three on the Billboard 200, the highest charting debut for a female rapper at the time.[4]
Elliott's second album, Da Real World, was released on June 22, 1999, and produced the singles "She's a Bitch", "All n My Grill", and top five hit "Hot Boyz". The remix of the latter song broke the record for most weeks at number-one on the US R&B chart on the issue dated January 15, 2000; as well as spending 18 weeks at number one on the Hot Rap Singles chart, from December 4, 1999, to March 25, 2000. With the release of Miss E... So Addictive (2001), Under Construction (2002), and This Is Not a Test (2003), Elliott established an international career that yielded hits including "Get Ur Freak On", "One Minute Man", "4 My People", "Gossip Folks", and "Work It". The latter won her a Grammy Award for Best Female Rap Solo Performance.[5]
Elliott went on to win four Grammy Awards and sell over 30 million records in the United States.[6][7][8] She is the best-selling female rapper in Nielsen Music history, according to Billboard in 2017.[9] In 2019, she released her first extended play, titled Iconology, became the first female rapper inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame and received the MTV VMAs Michael Jackson Video Vanguard Award for her impact on the music video landscape.[10][11] In 2020, Billboard ranked her at number five on the 100 Greatest Music Video Artists of All Time.[12]
Early life
Melissa Arnette Elliott[13] was born on July 1, 1971,[14] at Naval Medical Center Portsmouth in Portsmouth, Virginia.[15][16] She is the only child of mother Patricia Elliott, a power-company dispatcher, and father Ronnie, a former U.S. Marine.[13][17][18] Elliott grew up in an active church choir family, and singing was a normal part of her youth. At the age of four, she wanted to be a performer, and, as biographer Veronica A. Davis writes, she "would sing and perform for her family". In later years, she feared no one would take her seriously, because she was always the class clown.[19] While her father was an active Marine, the family lived in Jacksonville, North Carolina, in a manufactured home community.[19][16] Elliott blossomed during this part of her life. She enjoyed school for the friendships that she formed even though she had little interest in schoolwork. She would later get well above average marks on intelligence tests,[19] and she was advanced two years ahead of her former class.[19] Her move in grades caused isolation, and she purposely failed, eventually returning to her previous class.[19] When her father returned from the Marines, they moved back to Virginia, where they lived in extreme poverty.[17]
Life in Virginia saw many hardships. Elliott talks about domestic abuse by her father.[20] She refused to stay over at friends homes out of fear that on her return home she would find her mother dead.[20] When Elliott was eight, she was molested by a cousin. In one violent incident, Ronnie Elliott dislocated his wife's shoulders and during another, Elliott herself was threatened with a gun.[20] At the age of fourteen, Elliott's mother decided to end the situation and fled with her daughter on the pretext of taking a joyride on a local bus. In reality, the pair had found refuge at a family member's home where their possessions were stored in a loaded U-Haul truck.[17] Elliott tells her that she feared her father would kill them both for leaving.[19]
She later stated, "When we left, my mother realized how strong she was on her own, and it made me strong. It took her leaving her home to be able to realize that."[17][19]
Elliott and her mother lived in the Hodges Ferry neighborhood of Portsmouth, Virginia.[16] Elliott graduated from Manor High School in Portsmouth, Virginia, in 1990.[13]
Career
1991–95: Sista and career beginnings
In 1991, Elliott formed an all female R&B group, called Fayze (later renamed Sista), with friends La'Shawn Shellman, Chonita Coleman, and Radiah Scott.[21] She recruited her neighborhood friend Timothy Mosley (Timbaland) as the group's producer and began making demo tracks, among them included the 1991 promo "First Move".[22] Later in 1991, Fayze caught the attention of Jodeci member and producer DeVante Swing[13] by performing Jodeci songs a cappella for him backstage after one of his group's concerts. In short order, Fayze moved to New York City and signed to Elektra Records through DeVante's Swing Mob imprint and also renaming the group Sista. Sista's debut song was titled "Brand New", which was released in 1993[23] Elliott took Mosley—whom DeVante re-christened Timbaland—and their friend Melvin "Magoo" Barcliff along with her.
All 20-plus members of the Swing Mob—among them future stars such as Ginuwine, Playa, and Tweet[24]—lived in a single two-story house in New York and were often at work on material both for Jodeci and their own projects.[18] While Elliott wrote and rapped on Raven-Symoné's 1993 debut single, "That's What Little Girls Are Made Of",[1] she also contributed, credited and uncredited, to the Jodeci albums Diary of a Mad Band (1993) and The Show, the After Party, the Hotel (1995). Timbaland and DeVante jointly produced a Sista album, entitled 4 All the Sistas Around da World (1994). Elliott met R&B artist Mary J. Blige while Blige was in sessions for her second album My Life. Though videos were released for the original and remix versions of the single "Brand New", the album was shelved and never released.[22] One of the group's tracks, "It's Alright" featuring Craig Mack did however make the cut on the soundtrack of the 1995 motion picture Dangerous Minds but by the end of 1995, Swing Mob had folded and many of its members dispersed. Elliott, Timbaland, Magoo, Ginuwine, and Playa remained together and collaborated on each other's records for the rest of the decade as the musical collective The Superfriends.[25][26][27]
1996–98: Supa Dupa Fly
After leaving Swing Mob, Elliott and Timbaland worked together as a songwriting/production team, crafting tracks for acts including SWV, 702, and most notably Aaliyah.[24] The pair wrote and produced nine tracks for Aaliyah's second album, One in a Million (1996), among them the hit singles "If Your Girl Only Knew", "One in a Million", "Hot Like Fire", and "4 Page Letter".[23] Elliott contributed background vocals and/or guest raps to nearly all of the tracks on which she and Timbaland worked. One in a Million went double platinum and made stars out of the production duo. Elliott and Timbaland continued to work together for other artists, later creating hits for artists such as Total; "What About Us?" (1997), Nicole Wray; "Make It Hot" (1998), and Destiny's Child; "Get on the Bus" (1998), as well as one final hit for Aaliyah, "I Care 4 U", before her death in 2001. Elliott also wrote the bulk of Total's second and final album Kima, Keisha, and Pam and Nicole Wray's debut Make It Hot (both released in 1998). Elliott began her career as a featured vocalist rapping on Sean "Puffy" Combs's Bad Boy remixes to Gina Thompson's "The Things That You Do", (which had a video featuring cameo appearances by Notorious B.I.G and Puff Daddy), MC Lyte's 1996 hit single "Cold Rock a Party" (backup vocals by Gina Thompson), and New Edition's 1996 single "You Don't Have to Worry". In 1996, Elliott also appeared on the Men of Vizion's remix of "Do Thangz" which was produced by Rodney Jerkins (coincidentally the producer of the original version of "The Things That You Do").
Combs had hoped to sign Elliott to his Bad Boy record label. Instead, she signed a deal in 1996 to create her own imprint, The Goldmind Inc., with East West Records, which at that time was a division of Elektra Entertainment Group, for which she would record as a solo artist.[24] Timbaland was again recruited as her production partner, a role he would hold on most of Elliott's solo releases. Missy continued to work with other artists and appeared on LSG's song "All the Time" with Gerald Levert, Keith Sweat, Johnny Gill, Faith Evans, and Coko in 1997 on Levert Sweat Gill classic album. The same year, she rapped in "Keys To My House" with old friends group LeVert. In the center of a busy period of making guest appearances and writing for other artists, Elliott's debut album, Supa Dupa Fly, was released in mid-1997; the success of its lead single "The Rain" led the album to be certified platinum.[23]
The success was also a result of the music videos of her single releases, which were directed by Harold "Hype" Williams, who created many groundbreaking hip hop, Afro-futuristic videos at the time. The album was nominated for Best Rap Album at the 1998 Grammy Awards, but lost to Puff Daddy's No Way Out. The year also saw Elliott perform live at the MTV Video Music Awards show on a remix to Lil' Kim's "Ladies Night" with fellow rappers Da Brat, Angie Martinez and TLC-rapper Left Eye. Elliott continued her successful career in the background as a producer and writer on Total's single "Trippin'", as well as working with several others in the hip-hop and R&B communities. Elliott co-wrote and co-produced two tracks on Whitney Houston's 1998 album My Love Is Your Love, providing vocal cameos for "In My Business" and "Oh Yes". Elliott also produced and made a guest appearance on Spice Girl Melanie Brown's debut solo single, "I Want You Back", which topped the UK Singles Chart in Brown's native United Kingdom and is Elliot's only chart-topping song in that country.
1999–2001: Da Real World and Miss E… So Addictive
Although a much darker album than her debut, Elliott's second album was just as successful as the first,[28] selling 1.5 million copies and 3 million copies worldwide. She remarked, "I can't even explain the pressure. The last album took me a week to record. This one took almost two months…I couldn't rush it the second time because people expect more."[28] Da Real World (1999) included the singles "All n My Grill", a collaboration with Nicole Wray and Big Boi (from OutKast), a remix to "Hot Boyz" and "She's a Bitch". Also in 1999, Elliott was featured, alongside Da Brat, on the official remix to a Mariah Carey single "Heartbreaker".[29] A music video was filmed for the remix, shot in black and white and featuring a cameo appearance by Dogg. The Desert Storm Remix is acclaimed by music critics and became a cult remix .[30]
Missy Elliott next released Miss E... So Addictive on May 15, 2001. The album debuted at number two in the United States and sold 250,000 copies in its first week.[31] It spawned the massive pop and urban hits "One Minute Man", featuring Ludacris and Trina, and "Get Ur Freak On", as well as the international club hit "4 My People" and the less commercially successful single "Take Away". The double music video for "Take Away/4 My People" was released in the fall of 2001, shortly after the sudden death of Elliott's close friend Aaliyah on August 25 and the 9/11 terrorist attacks. The "Take Away" video contained images of and words about Aaliyah, and the slow ballad acted as a tribute to her memory. The remainder of the video was the more upbeat "4 My People", contained scenes of people dancing happily in front of American flags and Elliott dressed in red, white and blue. Though "Take Away" was not a success on radio, "4 My People" went on to become an American and European club hit due to a popular remix by house music duo Basement Jaxx in 2002.
Tweet's appearance on Elliott's "Take Away" as well as her cameo at Elliott's house on MTV Cribs helped to create a buzz about the new R&B singer. Tweet's own debut single, "Oops (Oh My)", was co-written by Elliott and released through Goldmind in February 2002. The single was a top ten hit, thanks partially to Elliott's songwriting and guest rap, and to Timbaland's unusual production on the track. Elliott co-produced the Christina Aguilera, Lil' Kim, Mýa and Pink cover of "Lady Marmalade" for the album Moulin Rouge! Music from Baz Luhrmann's Film,[32] which went to number one on the Billboard Hot 100 in 2001.
2002–04: Under Construction and This Is Not a Test!
For her next outing, Elliott and Timbaland focused on an old school sound, utilizing many old school rap and funk samples, such as Run–D.M.C.'s "Peter Piper" and Frankie Smith's "Double Dutch Bus". Elliott's fourth album, 2002's Under Construction (see 2002 in music) is known as the best selling female rap album with 2.1 million copies sold in the United States.[33] In 2002, Elliott won a Grammy Award for Best Rap Solo Performance for "Get Ur Freak On".[1] In 2003, Under Construction received Grammy nominations for Best Rap Album and Album of the Year.[34] The New York Times designated Under Construction "this year's best hip-hop album".[35] Elliott released two singles off of Under Construction. The lead single, "Work It" reached No. 2 on Billboard's Hot 100 chart and won the "Video of the Year" award at MTV's Video Music Awards. The second single, "Gossip Folks" featuring Ludacris, became a Top 10 hit on Billboard's Hot 100 chart, was one of the most-played music videos on MTV, MTV2, MTV Jams, and BET in 2003 and was embraced by the dance community, as well as the mainstream, due to a Fatboy Slim remix.[36] A third single was never released, though a video was shot for "Back In The Day" featuring Jay-Z[37] and Elliott was.
In between albums, Elliott produced the "American Dream Remix" (featuring Tweet's additional vocals) of Madonna's single "American Life", was featured rapper on Timbaland & Magoo's return single, "Cop That Shit", and produced "Fighting Temptation" (featuring herself, Beyoncé, Free and MC Lyte) for the soundtrack to the Cuba Gooding Jr. and Beyoncé Knowles movie of the same name. The track reached No. 1 in Japan but failed to chart in the U.S. Hot 100. Elliott was also featured on Wyclef Jean's "Party to Damascus" and Ghostface Killah's "Tush" singles, the latter of which became a minor 2004 dance hit, and had a pivotal role in the film Honey. Gap approached Elliott later in the year to co-star in a commercial with Madonna, which received much media attention.[38] Elliott furthered her relationship with Madonna by performing the controversial 2003 MTV Video Music Awards show opening alongside Madonna, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera. Also in September 2003, Elliott performed the theme song "The Opposite Sex" for the UPN sitcom Eve starring her good friend and fellow rapper Eve. It lasted for three seasons.
A year after Elliott's most successful album to date was released, Elliott felt pressured by her label to release another album hoping to capitalize on her recent success.[39] Elliott's singles, "Pass That Dutch" and "I'm Really Hot", from her fifth album, This Is Not a Test! (released November 2003), both rose the urban charts. However, both were not as successful at pop radio in comparison to many of her previous efforts. This Is Not A Test sold 690,000 copies in the United States[39] and has been certified Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). Elliott has since stated that "the album This Is Not A Test came out extremely too quickly for me. I didn't want it to come out when it did."[40] In 2004, Elliott was featured on Ciara's hit single "1, 2 Step", with her verse interpolating Teena Marie's single, "Square Biz". Elliott premiered her own reality show on the UPN Network, The Road to Stardom with Missy Elliott in 2005 even though it was not renewed for a second season. During the late 1990s and early 2000s, she sold more than 7.6 million copies in the United States, being the female rapper with best-selling albums in the country, followed by Lauryn Hill (seven million), Lil' Kim (four million), and Eve (four million) at the time.[41]
2005–06: The Cookbook and Respect M.E.
Elliott wanted to "give people the unexpected" by utilizing producers other than Timbaland and a "more to the center" sound not as far left as her other music.[40] Her sixth solo album, The Cookbook was released on July 4, 2005, debuted at number two on the U.S. charts and was certified gold by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), selling 645,000 copies in the United States. Elliott's work during The Cookbook era was heavily recognized. Elliott received 5 Grammy nominations in 2005, including one for Best Rap Album for The Cookbook. The album's first single, "Lose Control", won a Grammy for Best Short Form Video and was nominated for Best Rap Song. "Lose Control" also garnered Elliott six 2005 MTV VMA award nominations (winning Best Dance Video and Best Hip-Hop Video). Elliott won Best Female Hip Hop Artist at the 2005 American Music Awards, and was nominated for Best International Female Artist at the 2006 BRIT Awards.
"Lose Control" featuring Ciara and Fatman Scoop, became a Top 5 hit in the midyear (peaking at number three on the Billboard Hot 100). The second single, Teary Eyed, did not chart, although the video charted on MTV's TRL for a few weeks, and BET's 106 & Park for a few days. The third single, "We Run This", was released with heavy airplay on VH1, MTV, and BET. It served as the lead single for the soundtrack to the gymnastics-themed film Stick It. The song was also nominated for a Grammy Award in the Best Rap Solo Performance category in 2006. Respect M.E., Elliott's first greatest hits album, was released outside the United States and Canada on September 4, 2006, only in South Africa, Australia, Europe, Japan, and Brazil. The collection became her second top ten album in the UK and her highest-charting album to date, peaking at number seven there.
2007–14: Production work
Elliott was an honoree of the 2007 VH1 Hip Hop Honors.[42] In honor of her career, many artists performed some of her biggest hits. Timbaland and Tweet performed "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)", Eve and Keyshia Cole performed "Hot Boyz" and "Work It", Fatman Scoop and Ciara performed "Lose Control", and Nelly Furtado performed "Get Ur Freak On (The Remix)".[43] Since 2007, Elliott's seventh studio album has had several different forms with extensive delays. In 2007, she worked with Timbaland, Swizz Beatz, Danja, T-Pain and DJ Toomp and planned to release an album at the beginning of 2008.[44] In January 2008, "Ching-a-Ling" was released as the lead single for the Step Up 2: The Streets soundtrack, which also featured "Shake Your Pom Pom" produced by Timbaland. Elliott released the song "Best, Best" in the same year[45] and renamed the albums previous title FANomenal to its current tentative title Block Party.[46] She later decided against Block Party and four years later, in 2012, Elliott released two Timbaland-produced singles ("9th Inning" and "Triple Threat") exclusively to iTunes.[47] Though the songs managed to chart on Billboard Hot Digital Songs,[48] in an interview with Yahoo's The Yo Show, Missy talked about her hiatus from making records: "Your brain needs time to refresh! Things happen in your life where you can then write something else instead of the same three topics. Like, how many times we gonna talk about the club? I gotta feel like what I'm giving the fans is 100 percent and that it's game-changing. I don't just throw out microwave records."[49]
In between the recording of her seventh album, Missy Elliott found success behind the scenes. Elliott's writing and production helped her reach No. 1 on Billboard's Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs with Keyshia Cole's "Let It Go" (2007), Jazmine Sullivan's "Need U Bad" (2008), and Monica's "Everything to Me" (2010). Since 2008, songs written and/or produced by Elliott for Fantasia ("Free Yourself"), Jennifer Hudson ("I'm His Only Woman"), Monica ("Everything to Me"), Keyshia Cole ("Let It Go"), and Jazmine Sullivan ("Need U Bad" and "Holding You Down (Goin' in Circles)") have all received Grammy nominations. Both Fantasia's "Free Yourself" (2005) and Sullivan's "Holding You Down (Goin' In Circles)" reached No. 3 on Billboard's Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs. In mid-2010, Elliott embarked on a two-part tour with stops in Europe, Asia, Africa and Australia,[50] while she also performed at VH1's "Hip Hop Honors: The Dirty South" in a tribute to Timbaland, performing "Get Ur Freak On" and "Work It". In 2008 she made an appearance in "Whatcha Think About That" by The Pussycat Dolls, and performed live in different places with them. In 2011 and 2012, Elliott made guest appearances on "All Night Long" by Demi Lovato, "Nobody's Perfect" by J. Cole, the remix of "Why Stop Now" by Busta Rhymes with Chris Brown and Lil Wayne, and a remix of Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)" that helped catapult "T.G.I.F". to No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. She also produced Monica's singles "Anything (To Find You)" and "Until It's Gone".
Throughout 2013, Missy Elliott was featured on Eve's album cut "Wanna Be",[51] as well as international artists singles, Little Mix's "How Ya Doin'?" and "NiLiria" with K-pop musician G-Dragon, which was named by Complex magazine as one of the "50 Best Songs of 2013".[52] Elliott also contributed to her protégée Sharaya J's two releases, "Banji" and "Smash Up The Place/Snatch Yo Wigs". In December 2013, Elliott received a Grammy nomination with Fantasia and Kelly Rowland for their song "Without Me".[53] As early as July 2013, Missy Elliott and Timbaland held recording sessions for Kat Dahlia's debut, My Garden (2015).[54] In August 2013, R&B singer Faith Evans revealed that Missy Elliott would be featured on her sixth studio album, tentatively titled Incomparable.[55] In March 2014, Evans revealed one of the tracks was named "I Deserve It", featuring Missy and her protégée Sharaya J, in which Evans cited it as a "banger" and "feel good" record.[56] Evans also revealed that in total Elliott contributed three tracks to her album.[56] On July 7, 2014, fellow R&B singer Monica confirmed that Elliott would be a feature on her upcoming eighth studio album.[57] On July 29, 2014, a snippet of a Missy Elliott–produced song, nickname "I Love Him", premiered on Monica's official Instagram account.[58]
2015–18: Super Bowl XLIX halftime show and new music
In 2015, Elliott performed at the Super Bowl XLIX halftime show with Katy Perry. Elliott performed a medley of "Get Ur Freak On", "Work It", and "Lose Control".[59] The performance was well-received,[60][61] and boosted digital sales of Elliott's work that week, with a twenty-five-fold increase in album sales (to 2,000 units) and a ten-fold increase in sales of the three songs she performed (to 71,000 units) compared to the week before. It also became the most watched Super Bowl halftime show in NFL history, receiving 118.5 million viewers in the United States.[62] On February 3, 2015, it was confirmed that Elliott would be a feature on the upcoming remix to Diplo and Skrillex's "Take Ü There".[63] On February 11, Elliott stated that she was still in the process of recording her seventh studio album, Block Party, with Timbaland.[64] On April 2, 2015, Pharrell Williams confirmed that he was working on Elliott's album during an episode of The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.[65] On November 12, 2015, "WTF (Where They From)" and its music video were simultaneously released to digital outlets.[66] By November 19, the song and its video had been streamed 6.1 million times in the US alone, with an additional count of 16 million views per YouTube viewing.[67]
On February 7, 2016, the day of the fiftieth Super Bowl, Elliott released a promotional single, "Pep Rally".[68] Later that month, Elliott reunited with former protégée Tweet and frequent collaborator Timbaland on the cut "Somebody Else Will" taken from the former's third studio album, Charlene.[69] By March 15, 2016, First Lady Michelle Obama proclaimed that she had assembled a collaborative track featuring vocals from Missy Elliott, Kelly Clarkson, Janelle Monáe and Zendaya alongside production credit from pop songwriter Diane Warren and Elliott titled "This Is for My Girls".[70] The iTunes-exclusive record will be used to both coincide with Ms. Obama's SXSW speech and to promote her third-world educational initiative Let Girls Learn.[70]
Following a surprise appearance with TLC on the 2016 televised special Taraji's White Hot Holidays,[71] Elliott announced plans to release a documentary chronicling her impact on the production scene in both audio and video.[72] The midnight of January 27, 2017, saw the full-length release to a new Elliott single titled "I'm Better", featuring production and vocal assistance from recurring sideman Lamb and shared directing credit by Elliott and longtime colleague Dave Meyers.[73]
In July 2018, Missy Elliott teased fans by appearing on a snippet nicknamed "ID" by Skrillex, a release date for the single has yet to be announced.[74] One month later, Elliott appeared on the Ariana Grande number "Borderline", taken from the singer's fourth studio album Sweetener (2018). In October 2018, Elliott announced that she is working on her new album, which would be released in 2019.[75] On March 20, 2019, Lizzo released a collaboration with Elliott titled "Tempo"
2019–present: Recognition and Iconology
On June 13, 2019, Elliot was inducted to the Songwriters Hall of Fame, becoming the first female rapper to receive this honor.[76] Elliott received an honorary Doctor of Music degree from Berklee College of Music,[77] and the Michael Jackson Video Vanguard Award.[78] She was also the first female rapper to receive the award.[79] Elliott received the Women's Entrepreneurship Day Music Pioneer Award at the United Nations in 2019 in recognition for her achievements in music and being a leader. This award was placed in the Congressional Record.[80]
Elliott released her first extended play on August 23, 2019, titled Iconology. The five-track EP features a variety of musical genres that cover the breadth of her career as an artist and has received favorable reviews from critics. Upon release of the album, she also released the lead single, "Throw It Back", with a music video featuring Teyana Taylor. Musically, Iconology is a pop, hip hop and R&B EP reminiscent of Elliott's previous work. The opening track, "Throw It Back" contains "trap snares and a serpentine bassline", which along with the second track, "Cool Off", were described as "woozy, futuristic romps" containing "distorted bass lines and frenetic production". Lyrically, "Throw It Back" contains references to Elliott's history, as well as previous collaborators Tweet and Heavy D. Maura Johnson of Entertainment Weekly described "Cool Off" as calling "back to hip-hop's two-turntables-and-a-mic early days". "DripDemeanor" has been described as a slow jam that explores Elliott's "sensuous side". Musically, it contains "plush synths [that] skip-step underneath" the song's beat. "Why I Still Love You" is a doo-wop song with gospel influences and jazz influence that lyrically chronicles the singer's "conflicted emotions about holding on to a cheating lover". The EP closes with an a cappella version of "Why I Still Love You".
Elliott was motivated to write uplifting music to counter mainstream trends and encourage more dance music to feel good. "DripDemeanor" was released as the album's second single on October 22. "Why I Still Love You" was released as the third single on January 17, 2020. "Cool Off" was released as the fourth and final single from the EP on April 21, 2020.
On June 26, 2020, Elliott appeared on the official remix to Toni Braxton's single "Do It". Elliott co-produced the track alongside Hannon Lane.[81]
On August 13, 2020, Elliott appeared on the remix single "Levitating" by Dua Lipa which also featured Madonna. The remix was produced by The Blessed Madonna. Unlike Madonna, Elliott appeared in the video. The music video was directed by Will Hooper.[82]
On January 11, 2021, Elliott appeared on the single "ATM" by Bree Runway.[83] She directed the music video for "Twerkulator" by the City Girls in July 2021.[84]
Personal life
Elliott has said that she wants to start a family, but she is afraid of giving birth.[85] In 2008, she stated, "I don't know if I can take that kind of pain [of labor]. Maybe in the year 2020 you could just pop a baby out and it'd be fine. But right now I'd rather just adopt."[85]
Elliott and her father speak occasionally, but she says she has not forgiven him for abusing her mother.[17][19]
In June 2011, Elliott told People magazine that her absence from the music industry was due to a hyperthyroidism disorder known as Graves' disease. She was diagnosed after she nearly crashed a car from having severe leg spasms while driving.[86] She experienced severe symptoms from the condition, and she could not even hold a pen to write songs. After treatment, her symptoms stabilized.[87]
Legacy
Elliott has been referred to as the "Queen of Rap",[88][89][90] "Queen of Hip Hop",[91] and "First Lady of Hip Hop"[92][93] by several media outlets. Elliott's experimental concepts in her music videos changed the landscape of what a hip-hop video had as themes at the time.[94] Her catalogue of songs have included themes of feminism, gender equality, body positivity and sex positivity since the beginning of her career, being one of the first to center on these topics among hip-hop and R&B performers.[95] The Observer's Ted Kessler stated that, with her studio albums, she "has revolutionized the sound of R&B and hip-hop". Destiny's Child, Eve and Macy Gray have credited her for "clearing a path" in the American music industry towards "their own pop pre-eminence" as Black R&B/hip-hop female performers.[96] An article from Vibe credits Elliott's debut Supa Dupa Fly as "changing the rap game for women", noting the rapper's "refusal to be pigeonholed" with her image.[97] Commercially, Missy Elliott led female hip hop album sales during the late 1990s and early 2000s.[41] As of 2015, she has remained the best selling female rap album artist in the US.[98] Cardi B,[99] Lizzo,[100] Chloe Bailey,[101] Doja Cat,[102] and Ivy Queen[103] have cited Elliott's work as an inspiration.
Awards and nominations
Elliott has won four Grammy Awards, eight MTV Video Music Awards, two American Music Awards, six BET Awards, and a Billboard Women in Music award for Innovator. On June 13, 2019, Elliott was inducted to the Songwriters Hall of Fame, becoming the first female rapper to receive this honor.[76] Also in 2019, Elliott received an honorary Doctor of Music degree from Berklee College of Music,[77] and the Michael Jackson Video Vanguard Award.[78] She was also the first female rapper to receive the award.[79] Elliott received the Women's Entrepreneurship Day Music Pioneer Award at the United Nations in 2019 in recognition for her achievements in music and being a leader. This award was placed in the Congressional Record.[104] In 2021, Elliott was among the inaugural inductees for the Black Music & Entertainment Walk of Fame.[105]
Other ventures
Biographical film
In 2005, there were plans to make a biographical film about the life story of Elliott.[106] It was to be co-produced by Robert De Niro and Jane Rosenthal, and written by Diane Houston.[107] In mid-June 2007, Elliott said she was still working on the script with Houston in order "to come up with the right stuff 'cause I don't want it to be watered down. I want it to be raw and uncut the way my life was."[107] Initially, it seemed Timbaland wouldn't be a part of the movie. When Missy asked him, he refused, citing he felt it dramatized his character; "the movie is about her life, her story, that goes deeper than putting me into the movie".[108]
Philanthropy
In 2002, Elliott wrote a letter on behalf of PETA to the mayor of her hometown Portsmouth, Virginia, asking that all shelter animals be neutered/spayed before being adopted.[109] For the reality TV show The Road to Stardom, there was a contest for viewers to create a public service ad for the Break the Cycle fund.
In 2004, she joined forces with MAC Cosmetics to promote their "Viva Glam" campaign. In addition to the ad campaign, Elliott promoted the MAC Viva Glam V lipstick from which 100% of the sale goes to the MAC AIDS Fund.
In 2007, Elliott appeared on an ABC's Extreme Makeover and awarded four scholarships for a weight loss program to four underprivileged teens.
In August 2017, a 27-year-old Virginia man named Nathan Coflin began a Change.org petition that gained over 30,000 signatures in support of a statue to honor Elliott's philanthropic endeavors to be erected in her hometown of Portsmouth, Virginia.[110] On the petition's proposed site for this statue a Confederate Monument previously stood. This led to widespread media coverage in several national publications including The Washington Post,[111] HuffPost,[112] Newsweek[113] and Time Magazine.[114]
Discography
- Supa Dupa Fly (1997)
- Da Real World (1999)
- Miss E... So Addictive (2001)
- Under Construction (2002)
- This Is Not a Test! (2003)
- The Cookbook (2005)
Filmography
Film Year Title Role Notes
2001 Pootie Tang Diva
2003 Ultrasound: Hip Hop Dollars Herself Documentary
2003 Honey Herself
2004 Fade to Black Herself
2004 Shark Tale Additional voices singing Voice
2005 Just for Kicks Herself
Television Year Title Role Notes
1997 All That Herself "702" (Season 3, Episode 8)
"MC Lyte" (Season 3, Episode 20)
1997 Family Matters Herself "Original Gangster Dawg" (Season 9, Episode 10)
1998 The Wayans Bros. Herself "The Kiss" (Season 5, Episode 7)
2003 Eve Herself "Private Dancer" (Season 1, Episode 9)
2003 Punk'd Herself "Missy Elliott" (Season 2, Episode 1)
2005 The Road to Stardom with Missy Elliott Herself Reality television
2008 Ego trip's Miss Rap Supreme Herself Reality television
2008 My Super Sweet 16 Herself "Demetrius" (Season 8, Episode 1)
2008 America's Best Dance Crew Judge assistant Season 2
2009 Party Monsters Cabo Herself "Missy Elliott" (Season 1, Episode 7)
2010 What Chilli Wants Herself "What Chilli Wants" (Season 1, Episode 3)
2015 The Voice Mentor assistant Season 9
2016 American Dad! YoYo "Stan-Dan Deliver" (voice)
2016 Taraji P. Henson's White Hot Holidays Herself, Guest appearance FOX television special
2017 Star Pumpkin 2 episodes
Concert tours
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Headlining
Co-headlining
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Special guest
Opening act
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See also
Sources
- Rappe, Michael (2010). Under Construction. Dohr. ISBN 978-3-936655-67-4.
External links
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Wikimedia Commons has media related to Missy Elliott. |
THE MUSIC OF MISSY ELLIOTT: AN EXTENSIVE VIDEO OVERVIEW, A CROSS SECTION OF RECORDINGS, MUSICAL ANALYSIS AND COMMENTARY, PLUS VARIOUS INTERVIEWS WITH MISSY ELLIOTT:
