Greater Than Yourself: Uncredited Chicago House Vocalist Tish Bailey Speaks For Herself
The reality of the uncredited house vocal is a modern trope in dance music circles. In a world of sleeveless 12"'s, money-hungry labels stealing songs wholesale, and haphazard reprints, names get switched around, misspelled, or left out altogether. Usually in this capitalist charade, there’s a totem pole of who gets to make a fuss about wrongdoing: the producer, the writer, and often at the end of the line of grievance, is the vocalist. This intersection of oppression multiplies exponentially when it’s a Black woman. The boys club of dance music production, especially in the 80’s and 90’s, was actively careless in its treatment of Black women artists. Thankfully, this past decade has shown an uptick on calls for retribution on the inherent misogyny in splits, compensation, and acknowledgement.
More than righting wrongs on a socio-political scale, we’re choosing to share a personal story of connectivity and care. Tish Bailey is, yes, another uncredited Chicago House vocalist, but her story of the secular, sacred, struggle, stolen, and the sublime following her family across generations is as important as her voice reaching all across the globe with the 1996 DJ Deeon via DJ Funk Dance Mania hit “Freak Like Me” and her vocal subsequently illegally sampled for other derivative dance hits like “Freak” by Lexi and K-Paul in the millennium soon after.
German producer Sarah Farina, after coming across Tish and her story, began to produce an project in an effort of karmic balance; an explicit and equally collaborative dance music project with Tish as much a part of the process as a co-producer. What they came up with is the “Stay Soft” EP. On the business side, Tish and Sarah connected with Steph (musikmatter), to fundraise in hopes of receiving community justice in lieu of the legal.
“The more I know about the people and the culture, the more I can connect with the music.” - Sarah Farina
The interview below was conducted in June 2024.
Tish Bailey:
My great-grandmother was a servant to a German family whose wife couldn't have children. They used her as a surrogate when she was 13. By the time she was 19, she'd had three children and died having the last, which was my mom. After the head of the family died, the wife gave my great-grandmother’s children all away to different people as she remarried. All their inheritances were gone too, of course.
They all passed as white so when the people found out that they weren't, then they got given away again and again. Twenty years later, my mom found her sister. Ironically they both had a daughter, born in the same year, different days, named Mona Lisa. They did get to see each other a few times. At my family reunion, I met hundreds of relatives.
Dweller:
You said your mother was the last of her siblings. As you being the youngest in your family’s generation too, have you ever felt some responsibility to preserve these stories through your art?
TB:
It's such a natural thing for me. My entire family were poets or singers or both. We all also work in the medical field some kind of way. Even the ones I didn't know, it was all the same. That just goes to show how amazing DNA really is.
I think the biggest thing is I have to push is our heritage. Through my children and grandchildren just to let them know, especially when they're ungrateful. You have no idea where we came from or the things that your grandmother and your great-grandmother went through. It's not so much a responsibility as it is a joy, because it's what I've always known. It's what's always been there. It's what kept the family together.
D:
A devotion you don't even think about.
TB:
Yeah, you don't even think about it, just do it.
D:
Working in the medical industry and music or poetry all seem to have the capacity to be healing practices.
TB:
Yeah, for me, it was, I went through, my mom and my dad had so many sicknesses from strokes, cancers, heart attacks, amputations, diabetes. I wondered why did I have to experience so many things? Even myself, I went through a cancer diagnosis at 21. I found over the years that everything I experienced with my mom's care, my father's care, even with myself, it gave me this gift where I can almost diagnose things when I see them.
In the midst of all that turmoil, when I kept saying, “why me?” “Why my mom?” “Why my dad?” “Why my brother?” “Why so much?” It all made me who I am. It gave me all the gifts that I have now where I can help so many other people. I was kind of born into a life of service.
I always had a very creative mind because I was always very different. First, we were a very religious household. The kids kind of shunned me for that because I always had my Bible. My father was a pastor. So, you know, strict rules in my household.
I was doing poetry when I was six or seven, as soon as I can read and write. My mother was a poet and I always loved when she spoke. Her voice was so calming. She was always writing. When she would recite those poems, I'd say, “I wanna do that.” And I did.
D:
Were you singing in the church?
TB:
Singing has always been in my life. I think I sang my first solo at five years old. I went to New Home Missionary my whole life. Sunday school at eight o'clock, church service at 10, and then afternoon service at 3pm. There was the evening service at 7 and the broadcast at 10pm. We were at church literally, from eight o'clock in the morning to almost midnight. I sang in every choir. Eventually I was a lead singer, then a director.
D:
Congratulations. What was that transition, if any, between the spiritual and the secular?
TB:
That transition came around, around 20 or so when my [relationship with] religion became more spiritual as opposed to religious. I had a lot of opportunities that got passed by, for religious purposes.
When I graduated grade school when I was 13, and I had an opportunity to join the all-city chorus, and they would be going to Paris. My parents, with the difficult life they lived, were afraid for me to travel abroad without them. My father was in the military, so he's seen a lot of things. My mom was always scared I was going to be kidnapped. Then I got married young because of my religious beliefs. I was married at 16. By the time I was 20, I had four children.
My father passed away in ‘91, my mom got really sick, and my husband started using drugs, and I was just spiraling down. I got involved in some other things involuntarily as far as gang affiliation, surprisingly, but it just happened that way. I got pulled in due to an event and I was told, “hey, if you don't do this, you won't be protected.”
Again, me trying to help somebody. I helped somebody and now these other people [were] looking for me.
It just put me in a place where I was now, I was now trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted to do. A lot of [secular] music I always liked, but it's always that fear of doing something that God wouldn't like. When I went more towards spirituality than religion, I wanted to try other things. I did try singing other things, and I was secretly writing other kinds of music, but I was in that battle [thinking], “is God going to be mad at me?”
I started writing and then there was a guy, Darnell, from Do or Die. It used to be a dance group, then it went on to be a music group. He introduced me to DJ Funk. When he took me [to the studio], I rapped and I sang, and they go, "Oh, well, we think you sing better than you rap." I knew I had been brought there to sing anyway. I did a couple of covers of songs that already existed, that he kind of put a freaky spin on and changed the words, and I did that. You know, I went there for that reason. After that, I just started writing my own music.
I didn't have an outlet where I could put it out there. You sing to your friends, and you sing to your children, but I was able to express more freely. And then when you think you're going to die, it's that point where you go, "Okay, I want to try all the things that I never tried before. I may not have a long time to do that because you really just don't know." I found out that I enjoyed doing all sorts of music. The ghetto house was a little freakier than I wanted to go, but it was fun.
I mostly wanted to do inspirational music, not necessarily religious music. Music that would make people feel something, or be happy, or just get a good feeling. Like, Stay Soft. It's kind of house, it's kind of EDM, and it's kind of inspirational.
And I didn't intend to do anything with "Freak Like Me." I did it for a writing competition. That was like the first real thing that I did outside of religious music. That evening with DJ Funk, we were hanging out and he goes, "Play on the mic.“
And I go, "Sure.” When you're a vocalist, hearing yourself on playback, that's a big thing. It's not the studio, you're not on stage, but just to hear the playback. I think all vocalists like to hear that.
He goes like to the restroom, and I'm playing on the mic, and he played it back. I'm like, "Wow, yeah, that sounds good." That's the last I heard of it until it was out in the world. I didn't say, "Hey, use this." You know, or, "You can have this." Or anything to that effect. Because when I did go to record, we knew that it was to record, and we knew that it was for him. This wasn't that case, you know. This is us just having personal time. And to hear it again, surprised by it, like, "Whoa, hey, that's me”.
Now I'm trying to find out why and how. For over 20 years I called. I got no response at all. Until I think I reached out to him one time, and I may have said something that would make him feel like there was legal ramifications involved if he didn't answer me. So he said, "Oh, well, you know, somebody else handles my page. I wasn't seeing your messages on Facebook." I'm like, "Well, were you not seeing, hearing my messages on the phone? You didn't see my calls when I was reaching out to you all those years." We went into talks from there.
I went from religious to not knowing how much time I had left and wanted to venture out and experience new things. I wrote whatever I felt. That's just how it changed from there. I still do inspirational music that borders gospel. I have a love for the Creator. I can't say, "Oh, well, you know, it's a man, it's a woman.” It's just God. It's the universe. Whatever it is. I know there's a greater power than me. I know it's protected and provided for me. When I pray it's just to my Creator. I don't put labels on anything.
And I don't, and I would not, serve a master that was cruel and jealous and vengeful. I didn't feel I would be banished to hell. But doing the kind of music I wanted to do.
D:
That level of freedom coming out of such a sort of mental constriction that I think religious institutions can put on our minds is powerful. What you’re sharing about your life is a true example for others to fight for their own lives. To fight for what you love outside of what other people might think I obviously had no idea that "Freak Like Me" was pretty much your first step out of that.
How did you navigate after the track dropped in '96? In the next 20 years of you trying to run down Funk or Deeon on this issue, did that turn you off from the music industry? Did that make you jaded?
TB:
Not at all. I wasn't running down Deeon, I was running down DJ Funk because I didn't even know how Deeon got the track because I've never met him personally.
I realized [after a certain] point that both Deeon and Funk were a part of Dance Mania. That's how they were trading tracks back and forth.
It discouraged me because I had real things going on. I was married at 16. Diagnosed with cancer in my early 20’s. I had just lost my dad. My mom was sick, lost her leg, amputated.
I wasn't thinking of the women who do these vocals for these DJs and producers. At the time when you're doing them, you go, oh, it's just underground. It was fun, you're happy. Then when people take this vocal that you've done and make money from it, you expect that they'll say, “Hey we'll cut you in or here”, “here's 500 bucks.” Anything. You don't resent it at first because you're hearing your voice everywhere. Then it kicks in: you guys are making money off of my voice.
I know you did the production, but a lot of those are just samples that you pulled from a machine and put it together. This is my creation, or these are my vocals, even if they gave them something to sing.
You know in house music… that song comes on. People are dancing, but the favorite part of their songs might be a break. But it's those vocals that make it memorable. You know, a lot of songs have the same bassline or they may have the same beat or the same tempo, but it's that vocal that makes it unique. A lot of songs that I like are memorable by the women who sang these songs. I just have no idea what those women's names are. Now is the time to at their least put their names on the album.
When I spoke to Deeon years ago, he was very apologetic. He said to me, “I'm gonna make sure you get your name on here. I wasn't aware of how things were.” Emailed back and forth for years. We had conversations over the fall, but it just never came to fruition.
There was never a time when I stopped writing or stopped loving music. Only Sarah gave me that opportunity to let the world know that this is Tish Bailey. She sings, she does this, she did "Freak Like Me". Before Sarah, it was just a voice that millions of people have heard and no one knows my name.
D:
Nameless, faceless.
TB:
I'm very, very grateful to Sarah and Steph for the time and effort that they put in. Especially with Sarah allowing me to be featured on her EP. Sarah has what I consider a friend as opposed to just somebody who was compassionate enough to reach out and get the full story. She even tried doing the fundraiser. [She let me know that] this statute of limitations has passed and nobody's required to do anything, but I want to do a fundraiser for you.
Even if "Freak Like Me" was taken from me and used by so many people, it did something for me that not everybody has. I can say have millions of people heard your voice. Has your voice brought joy to millions of people? You know, that's the bittersweet part of it, to know that you created something that brought joy to so many people, but nobody knows that it's you. I'm not seeking the limelight. It’s just that it was my creation.
This is not DJ Deeon’s song. This is not DJ Funk's song. This was my song. And if I'm being honest, because I am unapologetically myself, it's still almost insulting for somebody to tell you, I'll give you a piece of royalty as a writer. I am the writer, you know, you wrote the music, I wrote the lyrics, you're going to give me a tiny piece, but even that breadcrumb I didn't get. The fundraiser hasn't done big numbers, but it's the thought behind it. It's the effort that they put in to say, "Hey, we want to make sure that you get something, "that the world knows who you are." And that's what the EP did for me, I love Sarah. I'm so appreciative to her and Steph for everything they've done.
I still love music, I still love house music. I still listen to DJ Funk’s music, because what I don't do is hate. Hate will eat away at you like cancer. I love where I am. I got all these beautiful grandchildren. I've got opportunities. Because of Freak Like Me, I met Sarah, I've got a feature on the EP; opportunities that I may not have had because of it. It's a win-win for me, because now my voice is out here for millions, and I'm still making music.
D:
I would love to hear from Sarah and Steph about how y'all met. And for Sarah, what was the impulse to reach out and to make all this happen?
Sarah:
Yeah, so I'm from Germany. I'm a DJ and producer since 2011. There has always been a political aspect for me with music and dance floors. Especially, as a Black person in Germany, everything is political to me.
Steph and I met in 2013 in London for at Rinse FM while I was a guest on the Hyperdub radio show by Scratcha DVA and Kode9. That’s were we ran into each other.
We just started talking and now we're here, many, many, many years later. Steph spends a lot of time in Berlin, where I live.
We always spoke about the industry and its difficulties. Steph is one of the realest people I know in the music industry. [She’s] has helped me numerous times navigating through situations regarding contracts. Also, of course, we have friendship.
With [respect to] ‘Freak Like Me”, I feel like there's a responsibility as a DJ [where] you can either just play music and that's it, or you can get to know the people and the culture behind the music. That's what I'm drawn to. I also spent some time in Detroit because of an artist residency. I spent a lot of time with Mike Banks and other people from Underground Resistance, I learned a lot from them, and it just became clear to me that the more I know about the people and the culture, the more I can connect with the music. It’s important to let people know about history, especially in the German context, where a lot of things are whitewashed.
The techno narrative in Berlin still has a long way to go. I mean, now people intellectually understand it better, but they haven't embodied this knowledge yet. I also do DJ workshops and that's where I always say there's a technical side to DJing and a spiritual side to DJing. That's where the responsibility comes into.
With the DJ Deeon ‘Freak Like Me’ track…always loved the track. I had the opportunity to play everywhere in the world, and every time I played this track, it just worked. People loved it. I wanted to work on my own music as well, and I was like,” I would love to make music that shows my Chicago influence, and I would love to work with a vocalist. What about this amazing singer from the song?”
I just typed in some keywords: “vocalist”, “freak like me”, “DJ Deeon”… all sorts of combinations. Didn't find anything, [On] YouTube I scroll and scroll and scroll. An endless scroll. It took a lot of time and the algorithm works in its own way. But then there's this thumbnail that somehow catches my attention, where you can see Tish, and I click on it. It didn’t have many views, maybe 2,000 at the time. I'm like, “okay, how can I get in touch?” I went to her YouTube channel found your email address, sent you an email:
“Hey, I'm a DJ and producer from Berlin. Love your voice and are you open for collaborations?”
I think you even answered the same day. We had a phone call. One of my first questions was, “how come everyone knows your voice, but no one knows your name or your face?”
Steph:
Some background about myself… my Nana had been very creative. She spent most of her life around musicians, artists, and writing poetry. I was writing poetry when I was little, and entered a radio competition when I was about 10. With poetry, nothing came of it, but I was always around creative people. [Later,] I went into corporate management and I climbed the ranks. Was in boardrooms… senior management… very uninspired. I was always creative in my work where my focus was always about the people, trying to help people grow.
In the meantime, my friends in London were part of a new music that was coming up called Dubstep. They were my friends before, so I started watching their careers and started being involved on the side. I started to realize that it was a mess for artists. They were always at the bottom of the importance list, and I'm not even talking about vocalists and singers, I'm talking about touring musicians. I started trying to transfer my corporate knowledge to helping artists.
Long story short, I gave up corporate and ended up working self-employed with artists. I changed my career from earning a huge amount of money, to earning no money. But I instantly realized how much happier and more fulfilled I felt.
That's how I met Sarah, because I ended up doing radio. I was hosting [a show] and I learnt to DJ. Not on purpose. I didn't want to be a DJ, still don't want to be a DJ! (laughs)
I'm only in Berlin because of Sarah. [Over time,] Sarah would talk to me about music industry politics and I would volunteer my opinion and outrage. When she told me about this Tish thing, I was immediately [understood], because I deal with contracts. Working for labels, I see this firsthand. Most labels have a clause that says, “You are responsible for the samples”. Most labels wash their hands of it from the start. I immediately knew how this had happened and how it was allowed to be perpetuated, because there'll have been one contract signed that just removed Tish. I was instantly astounded while I couldn’t make any promises, of course I'm going to help. I explained to Sarah how usually it works on licenses, credits, where we have to register stuff. We're just going to have to find our feet.
There's no harm in asking questions and reaching out.
Sarah did so much investigating on who had released it, who had remixed it, and then we just hatched a plan together of what that means, how do we go forward. It started with a fundraiser, but soon turned into the whole website, and then developed into the team of reaching out to Deeon's manager.
D:
What's going through my mind as all three of you speak is how music is made deserves the same kind of musicality that we appreciate in the music itself. How do we prioritize harmony, connectivity, listening for each other, and listening to each other?
TB:
When you make music, you don't make music to make money. That's why the music industry is so screwed. When you think about what music is and the vibration, how you're responsible for every word that you put out into the world because somebody is going to hear it.
It's going to make somebody feel something. It's going to make somebody do something. I'm probably responsible for a baby!
You know, maybe [Stay Soft] won't be something that stands the test of time like ‘Freak Like Me’, but maybe it will. But even if it does, if somebody hears you say, “this is not your reality.” “Nobody can make it be for you.” “You can do this.” These are the kind of messages I want to put out there now.
I want to take this time to thank everybody, Sarah, Steph, and definitely [my partner] Walter. He's been by my side through the whole thing, through every struggle. He's like the last good one that they made. I got him.
Steph:
[Tish,] you sent a message that made me cry. You said that your grandkids had Googled you and found your name. And you just couldn't believe it because that had never happened before. You [felt as if your] legacy is there now. How can it be for the first time since you put this tune out in '96 that now your grandkids can see your name? I want to thank you for trusting us and allowing me in. That message was really the reminder I needed for why we started.
TB:
When Sarah sends me a track, it's sometimes not even an hour that I return things back to her. The things that she sends me, they inspire me so quickly. They connect to me internally so quickly that I go right there. I always feel something instantly. It's only been maybe one or two times where she'll go, well, I was kind of thinking something else.
And because she's so sweet, she doesn’t say “No girl. that's not what we wanted to do.” That is a specialty of you guys. But I'm from Chicago. I can take it rough. I can feel the energy that you put into your music. When it’s time to do some words. Words come instantly. I'm not taking credit for the writing, all the writing, because it must come from somewhere. And it's always the inspiration of your music.
Sarah:
The amazing thing is, I know you can do anything. Like on ‘Stay Soft’ EP, the track ‘Stay In Your Lane’ is 155 BPM. Tish raps on a beat that's 155 BPM fast. I didn't change anything with her voice. Live recorded. So just want to shout out Tish for her skills here. [She’s] an amazing singer and there are not many vocalists who can work with club beats in general, especially 155 BPM. Most people probably would have to record it at 140 BPM and then speed it up. I love the intergenerational work of this. That's something what’s missing in the industry.
Steph:
I think even in the week that we launched the fundraiser, I was reading a story about a producer that I know. He put out his new EP and they were interviewing him and they asked him about the incredible vocal hook. Nobody batted an eyelid at his very nonchalant, “oh, we couldn't find who it was, so we just re-recorded it.” That's what happened with Tish's lyrics.
It's not only fighting the battle for the lost royalties of the tune that was made. She's not credited as the writer. This creates a bigger problem where a label has taken the song, and they have re-recorded the vocal with another female. Not only does Tish now not have credit for being the first vocalist on the original tune, but they’ve now also stolen the lyrics and taken that credit away. It's a horrendous way of making music that's actively happening. Because even if we manage to get the labels that have released it to accept that it was Tish's voice on the original, unless they accept that it was Tish's lyrics, she still only gets half the credit.
Sarah:
Have you heard about the "Freak Like Me" version from Lexi and K-Paul?
D:
No, I've not.
Sarah:
It just shows how the exploitation is just insane. Lexi and K-Paul are an electronic music duo, from Germany. They were pretty big in the early 2000’s, and their biggest hit was a song called "Freak”, where is Tish's voice being sampled.
I stumbled across their version and I would claim that this is their biggest hit. Without the song, they wouldn't be where they are. They're still playing big shows, mostly in Europe, I think.
It just says "Freak," and then they did remix versions and edit versions, like, they just couldn't stop. And you know, if you listen to all of the "Freak Like Me" versions, no one’s ever sampled the kick drum that Deeon used or the claps, they only ever used Tish's voice. Her voice is the song. The lyrics are the song.
And so there used to be this music event in the 2000’s called The Dome in Germany, where different artists would perform. And there is a video where they played "Freak Like Me" live and there is a white lady lip syncing to Tish's voice.
Steph:
Did you know this, Tish?
TB:
No, I didn't know that they did the lip sync thing.
D:
Do y'all wanna watch it together? It's like two minutes long. I just found it.
Sarah:
Let's do it.
It's just outrageous. When you look at it all, it's wild and you actually cannot believe it. And so the biggest point is, they were in the German charts in the 2000s. Top 20.
D:
I don’t think if I've ever seen a clearer example of cultural colonialism.
TB:
Look, I'm laughing at this. Then that other part of me… watching all these thousands of people live singing my lyrics. You're singing to my heart. Outrageous (laughing). Look, send me this link, this is unbelievable.
D:
I got you. Something I'm thinking about is how much more violence happens when vocals are attached to exploitation. It makes it that much more explicit. A lot of people here [in the States] do not connect techno as being a Black invention, but with house music, hearing you're loved one’s voice on a White body seems to have been endemic.
Sarah:
Yeah, there are many cases like this. There's another genre called Eurodance with similar stories like Tish’s. We reached out to Lexi and K-Paul's management, but unfortunately they have never replied. But that's a work in progress.
TB:
Exactly, that's the next step. Thank you all for this. Don't lose contact, 'cause I'm depending on y'all.
Follow Tish Bailey