M.I.A.: With a Rebel Yell

Photographs by Greg Kadel

Eccentrics, militants, farmers, and intellectuals -- all are represented in M.I.A.'s DNA. She likes to tell tales of growing up in Sri Lanka between her mother's creative family and father's pragmatic clan. Their influence is not only reflected in M.I.A.'s art and music, but in her conversation as well. She can talk about the state of the union one minute, then why couture clothing is so boring the next. Then address Wall Street greed and water birthing. She uses terms like "intellectual currency," then refers to change as a "chuggy thing." But when the subject of music comes up, she stops to ask, "Where the fuck has all the rebellion gone?" then pauses, as if waiting for an answer to materialize on the mixing board in front of her. "Music is still reliant on the same shit: sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll. They don't use it as a tool to stick their finger up at the rest of the world. It's like, 'Yeah, I got a shorty coming up to me, and we're about to have some liquor, chill in the SUV.' Maybe it happens every day like that in R. Kelly's world, but it's not realistic for me."

M.I.A. does not own a car or even drive for that matter, but even if she did, she'd be more likely to write songs about the kids in India who were paid two cents an hour to make the vehicle's after-market seat covers than the hoochie riding shotgun. "If you're having problems paying rent, then rap or sing about it," she says, lifting her soda can in the air as if it were a symbol of resistance. "Or is life really that great for everyone else, and I'm the biggest pessimist in the world?

"I have to know, 'cause now I'm having a child," she says, looking down at her swollen belly. "Do I need to turn it up or tone it down?"

Read more about M.I.A. in the December 2008 issue of SPIN, on newsstands now.