In 2001 I had the pleasure of interviewing an artist whose work I really liked and whose previous multi-platinum album Let’s Get Ready had several incredibly infectious tracks (I don’t need to remind you of “Shake ya ass!” do I?) that oozed out of car stereos for-freakin-ever. At the time of my interview with Mystikal (born Michael Tyler) he was promoting the album Tarantula which garnered him several Grammy nods. Known for his Southern bounce, vocal theatrics and party songs, Mystikal had also come to hip hop by an unusual route, via the military. After his tour in the first Gulf War he returned to his native New Orleans and began the group Boot Camp Click on Master P’s No Limit label.
On each of his first three albums he has songs about his sister who was murdered by her boyfriend (a grandson of one of the Neville Brothers oddly enough). Off his debut album Mind of Mystikal “Dedicated to Michelle Tyler” begins:
Miss Michelle Tyler: Sweet, beautiful,
intelligent, talented, creative, and
crazy as hell. And missed more than
anything in the world.
And the song ends with:
You were already a angel, so
I guess you’re just goin' home.
And, I know that heavenly
choir sound good up there, now.
They one more strong.
So, you keep singin' baby,
and I'm gonna keep you in my heart
and my thoughts.
I love you.
He has several songs written directly to her killer. They all have a raw immediacy about them. From “Murderer III”:
Muthafuckin' murderer
Bitch you killed my sister
Bitch I'm bout to get my pistol
…
Six years, still tears
I know it's gonna be that way
Until the day that your grave is filled up
…
Bitch that was my only sister, you can't just kill her
Don't that fuck with you? Can't you feel her?
That's what the fuck she get for givin' you her real love?
…
I just wish I would've knew then what I know now,
I just wish I could've woke up before it went down
Now I'm sayin' "Damn!"
Wake up hollerin' "Damn!"
Wait until I get that muthafucka, AND I AM
***
The weird part about doing phone interviews is waiting for the person to call. Sitting there in my livingroom I remember thinking, I can’t believe I’m waiting for a call from Mystikal. I mean it’s trippy to pick up the phone (“Hello?”) and hear a voice you’ve heard coming from your stereo A LOT (“Hey, this is Mystikal”).
But the conversation flowed naturally and the deep, cavernous voice from his albums was much more disarming and Southern than I’d expected. He laughed a lot and was extremely sweet and almost childlike. He had the very Southern trait of calling me Darling, Honey and Sweetie in just about every sentence.
Interviews by their very design of course are highly artificial encounters wherein topics are covered quickly, summarily and expediently. So while I wouldn’t normally ask someone about their murdered sister ten minutes into meeting them, that’s how it had to go if I wanted to bring it up at all.
When he spoke about her his voice was calm and steady in a way that sounded effortful. He talked about her involvement in his music. He described her continued presence in his life. And in the long pause that followed, I debated whether or not to address his own history of domestic violence. I mostly was afraid of spoiling the heavy moment lingering between us on the line, the moment that felt rare in its genuineness under very artificial circumstances. I expected to get what many interviewers get when confronting someone about their alleged crimes: defensiveness, unwillingness to talk about it at all, denial, curtness.
When I did broach it, the heavy silence protracted. And then he acknowledged it frankly. He spoke about his struggle with violence, referring to it as a dark period in his life, a darkness in his past. There was a distinct change in his demeanor. He was no longer “on” at all. He was no longer Mystikal. He just sounded like a guy. Just some guy talking about something that he’s thought a lot about, something that’s hard to talk about. The quiet steadiness of his voice sounded less steady and even more clearly sad than when he spoke of his sister.
I’d never talked openly with an abuser about his abuse before. It was strange, in part because of how normal it seemed and also because of how melancholy I felt to hear him speak of it. I was touched by him and I felt something for him, sadness, maybe even sympathy, and that left me feeling uneasy.
I had other questions to ask but none of them seemed very important anymore. I couldn’t bring myself to transition into talking about videos or his tour schedule. So I thanked him and we soberly said our goodbyes.
I was anxious to listen to the tape and share with my editor what was sure to be a rich and moving transcript.
But. The. Tape. Was. Blank.
I had checked like I always do throughout the interview to make sure the tape was turning, but apparently some weak batteries caused it to turn so slowly that nothing was recorded.
***
I had cause to think of that conversation with Mystikal this week when I read an article about how he’s doing in Elayn Hunt Correctional Facility in Louisiana and what his plans are when he becomes eligible for parole in December. He’s apparently written 20 songs during the first year of his six year sentence for sexual battery. The original charge, aggravated rape, which carries a mandatory life sentence in Louisiana, was negotiated down to sexual battery for a guilty plea. Apparently there is a video of Mystikal and his bodyguards threatening and sexually assaulting his former hairstylist who they claimed had extorted money from the artist.
I was deeply disheartened when I originally heard about his arrest a year or so ago. I felt sad to know that the remorseful and thoughtful former abuser I had been so moved by was very possibly no longer a former abuser (or never had been). I didn’t doubt his sincerity in the conversation with me; he was convincing because he didn’t sound like he was trying to be.
From “Murderer II”:
What possesed that nigga that hurt her
100% black queen self?
…
Sister was your victim
Fuck, he said he did it
What the fuck you mean you’re being a victim
…
There will be no reasonable excuse for what you've done
Even ignored him when he started stealin' from me
Cause them was crumbs
A raindrop to a river
Huh, a sinner to a Christian
A holler to a whisper
She was the sole reason that I got along wichya
But I'ma never heal from the scars of what you did to my sister
When I read the article about him planning his comeback for when he gets out in December, I just wondered, really wondered--what does he think about on a daily basis and how does he frame this latest bout with violence against a woman? Does he think about it in relationship to his sister or somehow separate the two in his mind? I don’t know Michael Tyler, I don’t know how accurate my brief glimpse of him was, but reading about him this week reminded me of how involute the cycle of violence is and how its perpetrators are not necessarily so easily categorized as unequivocally nefarious. It would be easier of course to think of them that way. It would be easier to think that he was not genuine with me in his remorse and is just overall vicious and wack. It would be easier to think that someone prone to violence couldn't possibly also be sweet and thoughtful and loving. Easier, but most likely specious.
From his song “Michelle Elizabeth Tyler”:
I'ma miss you forever, forget you never
…
So if you can see me from Heaven, over the cloud
You could be proud of your little brother, so look down and smile