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Thu, 10 Dec 1998 12:14:15 EST
The name Kirk Franklin elicits a host of varied images, depending on your
perspective: Energetic frontman who stomps on stages with armies of singers
and musicians; controversial character who makes wild, dance-filled music
videos and rubs shoulders with the likes of Salt 'N' Pepa, Mary J. Blige,
Usher, R. Kelly and other general market hip-hop and R&B artists; songwriter
and arranger who's practically changed the face of gospel music.
But dig this, Franklin aficionados: How about Kirk Franklin, the U2 fan who's
dreamed of singing with Bono ever since he first heard The Joshua Tree as a
16-year-old?
Although the raspy-voiced band leader runs slightly roughshod over the Irish
foursome's melody and lyrics, the excitement in his earnest Bono imitation is
unmistakable: "I still... haven't found... what I'm lookin' for! The Joshua
Tree, man... it's spiritual music! With or without you... /With or without
you...."
It's therefore not too surprising that Franklin pushed to have Bono guest on
"Lean on Me"--a rousing ensemble ballad featuring the voices of Crystal Lewis,
Blige and Kelly--from Franklin's latest album, The Nu Nation Project.
(Franklin and his record labels--Gospo Centric and Interscope--donated
$250,000 in September to help burned churches and synagogues in anticipation
of profits from "Lean on Me.")
"I asked [Rattle and Hum producer and Interscope exec] Jimmy Iovine if I could
sing with Bono, and he said yeah," Franklin explains. "I said, 'Are you
serious? Can you hook me up?' So he called Bono, and Bono said he'd love to do
it. Hearing the news was incredible!
"So I flew over to Ireland. I don't even remember what studio it was. I didn't
sleep. But it was quick. I tracked him, and we shot some video footage. Then I
left. And I was back home the next day for my daughter's birthday."
The whirlwind, one-day session was logged by Rolling Stone's Random Notes
section and was a perspective-builder for Franklin, the rising star who got to
share studio space with a rock 'n' roll legend.
"Bono's a nice guy, a very spiritual guy," he recalls. "I asked him how things
were going, and he talked to me about the 'PopMart' tour. He said one of the
shows didn't turn out as big as they wanted it to, and I'm lookin' at him and
goin', 'You're kidding!' And then he mentioned something about Pop only
selling 7 or 9 million units! I thought, 'Man!'"
Blessed Dirt
At this stage in Franklin's career, a little perspective from the mega-
successful likes of Bono can only help. The Nu Nation Project's initial
impact--over 100,000 units were sold in its debut week--and the concurrent
release of his pull-no-punches autobiography, Church Boy: My Music & My Life,
are the latest in a growing line of success stories bearing Franklin's name.
To wit:
He's at least partially responsible for three of the Top 15 best-selling
Christian albums of all time [CCM Magazine July 1998];
1993's Kirk Franklin & the Family was the first debut album on a Christian or
gospel label to go platinum;
Last year's God's Property album (featuring the hit single "Stomp") went
double platinum and reached the top of the R&B and gospel charts--and third
place on the pop charts. That project earned a Grammy;
His multi-city tour (to start after Christmas) promises to be his biggest,
most elaborate production yet.
So with seemingly everything Franklin touches turning to platinum, the
question on most minds now is, "How far can he go?" On most minds, that is,
except Franklin's.
Not that he doesn't strive for success. "I struggle with my flesh every day,"
he says. "I mean, if the album isn't getting enough spins on the radio, I get
frustrated." But Franklin's quick to admit that achieving success--and
figuring out how to view and use its rewards--is a struggle and challenge he
deals with moment by moment.
"I can't take the praise of people," Franklin reveals. "I gotta say, 'It's
from Jesus' or I get caught up in the flesh. I know I'm supposed to say,
'Lord, I just want to minister. If one person gets saved, that's all that
matters.' But I don't always do that. Then God convicts me--and His conviction
is the blessing. It's like, 'Hey boy, you trippin'! Who is this about?'
"I'm just afraid that someday I'm gonna look in the mirror and forget that.
I'm afraid that if I go for popularity, riches, No. 1 charts, limos and
private jets, God will say, 'You're no good for me.' And then He'll cut me
off. I'm nothing but dirt that God's blessed."
Don't Call Johnny Cochran
But along with the rewards of his work have come equal measures of thorny
barbs. Ever since he came on the scene in 1993, controversy and criticism have
followed Franklin like rabid hell hounds on his trail. So relentless are his
critics that Franklin countered with two tracks on The Nu Nation Project
devoted to them.
The opening number, "Interlude: The Verdict," is a Carman-esque courtroom take
on the "charges" Franklin's often saddled with: that he spends too much time
with rap and R&B artists; that he's a general market artist dressed in
Christian clothing; that he makes gospel music too worldly. "Interlude: The
Car (Stomp)" is a hilarious send up of an older, Rev. James Cleveland-loving
couple who bow to Franklin's feet but then diss him behind his back, calling
him "shorty" and "filth," among other epithets.
Perhaps Franklin's biggest setback came during a freak accident that nearly
cost him his life. Walking backstage during a November 1996 concert in
Memphis, Franklin fell into a pitch-black pit offstage and sustained serious
head injuries. Miraculously, he healed quickly and the "Tour of Life" resumed
the following month.
But for Fred Hammond--a top R&B artist in his own right and a close friend of
Franklin over the last five years--being nearby when Franklin got hurt was one
of the most horrific moments of his life.
"We'd just come offstage after the opening number, and I heard a lot of
hollering," Hammond explains. "I'd played in this place before, so I
immediately knew Kirk fell into the pit. When they finally got to him,
security was flashing a light on his feet, then his head. It was twisted
sideways and bleeding. He was going into convulsions. It was pandemonium. And
I was thinking over and over, 'This isn't happening. This isn't happening.'
"So I went back onstage and told the audience that Kirk needed prayer. At that
point the concert was ruined, but we had a 30-minute worship service anyway.
In my times of tragedy, in my times of panic, with tears in my eyes, I'll sing
worship songs. Because the enemy comes in and brings doubt. There was so much
physical opposition to that tour happening--[singer] Yolanda Adams had a lung
disorder of some sort; I was close to developing diabetes; and then Kirk. I
mean concerts were selling out, and God was being lifted up--but then the
enemy says, 'Okay, I got you all now. I'm shutting this thing down.'"
And the most recent hurdle for Franklin? A lawsuit, and not one from a crazed
fan or a struggling songwriter claiming Franklin stole lyrics. This lawsuit
was filed by none other than God's Property. In mid-October, Franklin and
Gospo Centric were sued by the ensemble vocal group for more than $65 million
in damages. The suit claims Franklin & Co. induced God's Property founder,
Linda Searight, into signing a one-sided contract and that no royalties have
been paid to the group since the now double platinum album released.
Franklin's camp has denied the charges.
And talking to Franklin, you'd never know a multi-million dollar lawsuit is
hanging over his head. It's almost as if it's merely another knob that's been
turned up in the pressure cooker that's become his life.
"It gets to you," Franklin admits, referencing the barrage of criticism he's
received. "It hurts when people attack you directly. It's a challenge. It's
not something I learned overnight, but when 'Stomp' was hitting and people
criticized the dancing in the video, I used to try to defend myself all the
time. But God told me, 'You are not my attorney! You're not my Johnny
Cochran!'"
Yet despite edicts from above, there are a few issues Franklin can't keep
silent about--the most notable being the treatment of high-quality Christian
music compared to what he characterizes as raunchy general market songs.
"I find myself going to radio stations and record companies and getting
livid!" he says, the passion in his voice building with each word. "It's a big
struggle now because I'd like to be Peter... and cut ears off. I have a big
problem when people play secular music with lyrics calling women 'b's' and
'h's' and saying 'nigga.' And here I am with a song, and the beat is just as
hot and the rhythm is just as funky, but they decide to play this other mess
instead! They won't play my songs 'cause I say Jesus! That rubs me! I find
myself getting in the middle of a war--and I fight it.
"But God convicted me... again. He called me to be a servant, to live for Him,
but still I struggle. Why is society so scared of the name Jesus? Things have
happened in the last decade that have given Christians a bad name--that
they're money-hungry, fornicating hypocrites--but you can't throw the baby out
with the bath water!"
Fight the Future
Innovators do what they do because they're not afraid of being different--or
being ridiculed, derided or laughed at. When these trailblazers are carrying
out their radical projects and theories, the change they bring about isn't
often looked upon favorably. But when innovators are proven correct, they're
hailed as heroes.
Franklin is indeed an innovator--not just through his music, but through his
relationships with other artists, especially those steeped in the adulation of
general market hip-hop and R&B. And just like many other facets of his life,
Franklin's friendships have been lightning rods.
One of the most far-reaching criticisms he's received in this regard stems
from his friendship with rapper Cheryl "Salt" James of Salt 'N' Pepa, who made
a controversial guest appearance on "Stomp." James' presence was controversial
because she's been quoted numerous times as believing in Jesus and
recreational sex--not exactly a combination associated with a biblical
worldview. But whatever James' spiritual state, Franklin is steadfast in what
he sees as his pastoral role with her and other artists like her.
"Sometimes I'm an ear. They know they're talking to somebody who's not going
to judge them," Franklin explains. "[Young R&B singer] Usher is one. There
have been a couple of times when he and I have hung out. He's such a young
man--and he's a big pop star. So I'm telling him 'be careful; recognize your
relationship with God.' You know, to reach the secular world, you don't beat
them over the head with the Bible. You do it the way Jesus did it. You feed
them first, then you preach to them."
The Rev. Tony Evans--pastor of Dallas' Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship and a well-
respected speaker, author and teacher--is one of a handful of informal mentors
Franklin meets with for counsel and prayer. Evans says he actually foresees
Franklin transferring the emphasis of his career away from entertainment and
toward ministry.
"He's been wanting to develop his discipleship impact," Evans reveals, "and
there's a very strong possibility that he'll bring my ministry--the Urban
Alternative--on his upcoming tour."
Franklin acknowledges his need for more mature Christians to keep him
accountable, primarily because he's operating in culture at large, outside the
safety afforded by a career within the church market alone. While that can be
an honor and a privilege, it can also be a problem--one that most Christian
artists aren't faced with. Indeed, as with many innovators, Franklin's chosen
path is often a lonely and difficult one.
"You feel a mixture of things," Franklin explains. "Sometimes you feel like a
dirty piece of carpet with people walking over you; sometimes you feel like a
fish out of water. Yet there are so many opportunities to minister to people.
But if you go into that environment and people can see no difference in you,
there's something wrong with you. If they're not uncomfortable smoking herb
around you, then maybe you're not living right.
"So that always makes me check myself. I can't say or do anything that gives
Christ a bad name. Yes, I have bad days, but my life is not mine anymore. I
know that I can't do anything and go wherever I want anymore. I'm accountable
to a cloud of witnesses. I'm accountable to Abraham. I'm accountable to Jacob.
To Isaac. To all the brothers and sisters who've come before me."
I copied this from teh ccm website...supposedly in the actual mag there is a
cool pic of bono and kirk franklin together
in the name of hope,love,joy and u2
Megan
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