A Tribe Called Red colours the spotlight on Native beats at Osheaga

“So they came over here and were like, ‘You guys are Indians… right?’ And we were like, ‘No…’”

Immediately following this cheeky sound bite, electronic music laced with chants and danceable drum beats blasted through the speakers lining the stage at Montreal’s hugely popular Osheaga music festival. In the crowd, glow sticks and wild enthusiasm were rampant as onstage, Ian “DJ NDN” Campeau (Ojibwa, Nipissing First Nation), Dan “DJ Shub” General and Bear Witness (Cayuga, Six Nations) fervently fed a mix of sound clips, their own tracks and hip-hop beats from the likes of Kanye West and A Tribe Called Quest from their laptops and turntables to the speakers.

Better known as A Tribe Called Red, this Aboriginal DJ collective from Ottawa has caught the attention of Aboriginal, electronic and hip-hop music fans. Their debut appearance at this year’s Osheaga festival saw a packed audience who were obviously familiar with the tracks played, showing how far this group has come in two years since the release of their self-titled debut album.

On August 2, the group attracted a crowd of thousands to the festival’s Piknik Elektronik stage despite the fact that they played at the same time as goth-rock legends and festival headliners, The Cure. After a 20-minute delay and being accidentally called A Tribe Called Quest by DJ Baauer who had the set before them, they walked onstage to massive applause. They immediately launched into Electric Powwow Drum, the single off their first album.

A Tribe Called Red’s particular brand of electronic/hip-hop mixed with traditional Aboriginal chants and drum music sounds earned them a coveted spot on the shortlist for the Polaris Music Prize to be held in Toronto Sept. 23. But don’t mention that to Campeau since competing for one of Canada’s most prestigious music awards makes him dizzy.

“I got faint, when you mentioned it,” he laughed. “It’s insane that we made the shortlist.”

Like Campeau, Bear Witness is simply thrilled to be on the list, noting aptly that their group is making history already –no all-Aboriginal group has made the list before now.

All hype aside, Campeau says that the music (often called “powwowstep”) came about as a natural progression of what he was already doing – being an Aboriginal DJ in Ottawa.

“It came from a party,” said Campeau. “We had an electric powwow party where Bear and I just wanted to showcase the fact that we were Aboriginal DJs in Ottawa.”

Campeau and Bear began having what they call “weeklies” – parties put on for young Aboriginals in the Capital Region.

“And from that came this huge overwhelming response,” Campeau explained, “because we were creating this comfortable space for people who were coming from rural communities to school in Ottawa and never felt comfortable going out until they came to our parties.”

In order to show appreciation for the crowd as well as showcase their heritage, Campeau and Bear started playing music that sampled powwow tunes at their weeklies and eventually began mashing up their own.

In 2009, General, a champion turntablist, made it three and A Tribe Called Red was born.

But being a high-profile Aboriginal act in Canada hasn’t been an easy ride. After performing at multiple festivals in the US and Canada, the band tweeted, “Non-Native fans who come to our shows we have to talk. Please stop showing up in headdresses and war paint. It’s insulting.”

According to the group, a lack of education led to a situation where non-Native fans believed they were honouring them by attending the shows with traditional accessories. But tweeting and oftentimes speaking firsthand with their fans seems to have had a positive impact as the sentiment caught on to those around them; their manager and even a festival on the West Coast have taken steps to fix the problem. The festival, Tall Tree on Vancouver Island, announced that headdresses were inappropriate and would be confiscated at the door this year.

The problem, says Bear, is mostly found in festival culture at the moment.

“At one of the festivals we played on the coast we had a traditional dancer come onstage,” he said. “So you know, here are all these people wearing something very fake, that doesn’t represent us, that doesn’t honour us, while we’re able to show them something really real at the same time. I don’t think it’s a malicious thing… A really common response is, ‘We want to honour you.’ But you’re not honouring us. You’re not even representing us.”

Since their tweet, the number of incidents has significantly decreased. In the meantime, the guys have been focusing on their music, touring festivals and promoting the release of their second album, Nation II Nation.

“What we’re doing in a way is continuing [powwow] culture,” said Bear, “and looking at it through the urban lens.”

Through this dichotomy they hope to reach both rural and urban Aboriginal music fans. The message?

“At the heart of it is… pride,” said Bear after a long pause. “That’s the biggest thing that we can bring. Pride, and to show that we can do anything as well, if not better, than anybody else, as ourselves, as Aboriginal people. You don’t have to lose your culture or separate yourself from your culture to do things.”

Their success is already bringing pride to their home communities, as Campeau says his mother is now a celebrity on the reserve.

The whole Tribe also had a message for the Cree nations of James Bay.

“We sample a lot of very talented Cree singers, and none of us are Cree,” laughed Campeau. “So thank you so much.”