Cuban Linx

Section: Talent

Jessica Jones

Explosion Suprema MC Mikiflow takes hip-hop beyond Havana.

In communist Cuba, the government-run record labels make it difficult to independently produce - and successfully market - one's music. No one knows this better than MC Mikiflow. He's been in the rap game for almost 10 years, but you'd never hear his rhymes on the Cuban airwaves.

Mikiflow, 30, moved to the United States six months ago to circumvent Cuba's communist regime - and to sell more records, if he's lucky. His crew, Explosion Suprema, is part of El Cartel, a 10-group Cuban collective which was formed in 2003. Now ready to embark on a solo career, his old-school flow - replete with thought-provoking lyrics and a raspy, almost-DMX sounding voice - are featured in the recent documentary East of Havana, which chronicles the lives of three young rappers as they prepare for the country's annual rap festival.

Like many rap groups in Cuba, Miki considers himself part of a different era in hip hop. Weaned on '70s and '80s hip hop, he says music - both American and Cuban - is supposed to be about an intellectual analysis. Not bling. That standard, he says, shouldn't just apply to Cuban rappers, but to American ones as well. "[The groups in El Cartel] are the people who've always stayed consistent in their message and their style," says Miki. "They're the ones who've never sold out."

Today, Miki is living with his wife in Washington, D.C., where he hopes to become a master of both the English language and the Latino hip hop market. Vibe.com talked to the MC about capitalism, communism, Castro and his preferred method of communication: music.

How did you end up getting involved in the documentary East of Havana?
I knew the directors of the film from several years back. They would always come to Cuba for the hip-hop festival, and record things and take pictures. I had seen them at parties and things like that, but we had never hung out on a one-on-one basis. [The directors] were looking for people who represented Cuban hip-hop, but also had a good sense of themselves and [had] their own style that set them apart from everyone else.

How long have you been rapping?
I always loved the parties, and dancing and improvising. I was always into hip-hop [and] I got to know everyone in the hip hop world in Cuba. I used to play basketball with one of the members of Explosion Suprema. After we finished playing basketball, we would start improvising and rapping and everything. And so one day he said, 'Why don't you come join our group.'

How would you describe the Cuban hip-hop scene?
The hip-hop movement in Cuba is very authentic. It's very original in its manners of expressing politics and thoughts and creativity. The rappers in Cuba are very influenced by hip hop from the '70s and '80s.

Who are your musical influences, both in Cuba and the United States?
In Cuba, I like Afro-Cuban music like rumba, which is kind of like salsa but with more a rhythmic complexity to it. I like old school Cuban music - [like] old ballads and stuff. In the United States, I like soul and R&B. For specific artists: Notorious B.I.G and Slum Village.

What would you say the biggest difference is between Cuban hip-hop and American hip-hop?
[In Cuba], we stayed more in the old school hip-hop mentality of making social critiques and stuff like that -and being intelligent. What I see right now as the biggest difference is that in Cuba, they're a lot more, at least they let it be seen that they are a lot more educated and [there's an] intelligent analysis [behind the music].

So what do you think of American hip-hop?
I don't understand why this country - with all the technology [that makes you able] to do so many different things with a music - why someone would put out a CD where every song sounds the same. And none of the songs talk about any interesting topics.

What was it like growing up in Cuba and how has that shaped your music?
Now that I'm in the U.S., I'm realizing that [growing up in Cuba] was the best thing that ever happened to me. I write about what happens in my life from day-to-day. I don't have a certain ideology in my music that I am trying to push, or a certain point I'm trying to get across. I'm just trying to convey my reality in my music.

Why has being in the United States made you realize that growing up in Cuba was the best thing that ever happened to you?
In Cuba there's very little violence. All the kids always go to school and they have a good education. And, more than anything, there's a lot of happiness just in the streets everywhere. And that's what most confuses me about this country - that no one's happy. People in this country have a different way of living, where everyone's kind of separated and all in their own world doing their own thing. In Cuba, no one has anything, but they all live together and they're happy.

Will you ever go back?
Maybe, yeah. Why not? I love my country. I came to the United States because it gives me the opportunity to work myself into the Latino music market. I don't have that opportunity in Cuba. Cuba is the land of the great contradiction: Everyone can be a doctor or a teacher and very educated, but there's no economic benefit from doing any of those things.

In the documentary, there seems to be a divide between younger people and the older generation when it comes to their views on Fidel Castro. How do the different generations feel about him?
The generation that grew up with the revolution, they were building something. And everyday they were working on building something and building the revolution. [But] by the time my generation came along, what they had built was starting to crumble. We grew up when all the difficulties started to present themselves.

What do you think will happen to Cuba when Castro dies?
Nothing. The government has everything.

What would you like to see happen?
I don't care if it's socialist or capitalist or communist. I'm not worried about the politics. I want young people in Cuba to have the possibility to achieve their goals and set their goals and do what they want to do with their lives.

So people aren't allowed to make music?
Yes, you can make music in Cuba. You just have to do it all on your own because the only record labels in Cuba are government labels that promote salsa and traditional Cuban music that tourists are interested in hearing. The groups that get heard outside of Cuba are either the son or nephew or the daughter of one of these people who work for one of these record labels. Or someone who paid someone off.

What are the other members of Explosion Suprema up to now?
Just before [I] left Cuba, we put out our last CD called the Injustice Trembles. (We have done three CDs.) It worked out because we were nominated for the Pueda Viva awards in Cuba. It's a new [award] for people who produce independent records. Just three days ago, they called me to tell me that we won.

You said that now that you're here, you are going solo. When will you release your solo album?
Right now I'm writing a lot. And with this whole movie tour I've been doing in New York and LA and Miami, a lot of producers have come up to me and talked to me about some possibilities.

Where do you see yourself in the next five or 10 years? Will you be here or in Cuba?
Right now there are no possibilities to do anything with my music in Cuba. I'm not caught up in this whole American dream 'the streets are paved in gold' kind of thing. But here at least there are possibilities to move around and get to know a lot of people. There's a lot more opportunity here.