"So, yes, I am in the underground, but actually, it feels like home"
About this Quote
Braxton makes “underground” sound less like a bunker and more like an address. In jazz and experimental music, the word usually carries a double charge: it’s a badge of integrity (outside the market) and a polite way of saying you’ve been shut out. Braxton flips that tension with a sly calm: “So, yes” concedes the label, almost like he’s indulging an interviewer’s framing, then pivots to the real point. The surprise isn’t that he’s underground; it’s that he’s comfortable there.
The line lands because it rejects the usual grievance narrative artists are expected to perform. Instead of begging for mainstream validation or romanticizing struggle, he treats the margin as a chosen ecology. “Feels like home” signals more than acceptance; it suggests an environment where his music’s rulebook actually makes sense. Braxton’s work - sprawling compositions, new notational systems, ensembles that blur improvisation and architecture - isn’t “difficult” for sport. It demands a community willing to listen without needing a hook, a chorus, a press-ready genre tag.
There’s also quiet defiance in calling the underground home. Home is where you stop translating yourself. In a culture that often equates visibility with value, Braxton implies that obscurity can be a kind of freedom: fewer compromises, fewer gatekeepers, more room for experiments that won’t survive daylight’s harsh economics. The subtext is clear: if the mainstream can’t accommodate this, that’s not a tragedy. It’s just geography.
The line lands because it rejects the usual grievance narrative artists are expected to perform. Instead of begging for mainstream validation or romanticizing struggle, he treats the margin as a chosen ecology. “Feels like home” signals more than acceptance; it suggests an environment where his music’s rulebook actually makes sense. Braxton’s work - sprawling compositions, new notational systems, ensembles that blur improvisation and architecture - isn’t “difficult” for sport. It demands a community willing to listen without needing a hook, a chorus, a press-ready genre tag.
There’s also quiet defiance in calling the underground home. Home is where you stop translating yourself. In a culture that often equates visibility with value, Braxton implies that obscurity can be a kind of freedom: fewer compromises, fewer gatekeepers, more room for experiments that won’t survive daylight’s harsh economics. The subtext is clear: if the mainstream can’t accommodate this, that’s not a tragedy. It’s just geography.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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