Author’s introduction
BL Shirelle, Germantown native, is a musician reshaping the recording arts industry through her leadership at Freer Records, the nation’s first record label dedicated to producing music by currently incarcerated individuals. As Co-Executive Director alongside Fury Young, BL Shirelle remains dedicated to the mission of Freer Records “to build the careers of artists so their work is widely heard, uncensored, and upholding of their humanity.” On April 18, I spoke with BL Shirelle about her upbringing in North Philadelphia, her leadership in the music industry, and how the recording arts can serve as a catalyst for prison reform and social change. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Evan Mitchell Schares: Can you speak about your upbringing in Philly and how the city has impacted you and your artistry?
BL Shirelle: I was born and raised in Germantown, Uptown specifically, and we have such a deep art culture here in Philly. I grew up close to Germantown Avenue which was part of the Underground Railroad. I learned so much at a young age about fighting for freedoms, art, and music.
I loved school, but I only finished eighth grade. My mom was an addict, so I did whatever I wanted, and I didn’t have a lot of rules. But I am glad that I got my GED when I was 16.
I was incarcerated or under supervision from the ages of 12 to 32. And I didn’t get exposed to nature and animals until I was going to prisons and juvenile placements in rural areas. Those drives were the first time I ever saw a deer or rode across a bridge because I was so trapped in a six-block radius.
Being locked into one area is a breeding ground for ignorance because I didn’t see other things. I didn’t meet other people. I didn’t try new foods. Something as simple as trying a different food can open your mind. But I wasn’t getting any of those stimuli because I was trapped in one area for so long.
Evan: How did you get involved with Die Jim Crow, and how did that evolve to you now leading Freer Records as Co-Executive Director?
BL Shirelle: I went to prison at 17 for a police-involved shooting but I was trying to defend myself. He was undercover and I was shot multiple times, and they beat me down, handcuffed me, and kept beating me while I was bleeding out. It was traumatic. But I ended up in prison and when I got out, I had the nerve to go back to prison after that.
I realized there was no other option. I knew I was going to literally die if I didn’t get this right this time.
I had been a writer my whole life and at the institution they were doing a Ted Talks performance. So, I took a crack at it because I would have to write something outside of my wheelhouse. I got my band together and I wrote two songs. And Fury Young reached out through a letter and said he was working on an album about mass incarceration through the Black experience.
When my best friend gave me the letter I was automatically inspired and something unlocked in my brain because I didn’t know this guy but he’s telling my whole life story in the letter. I was so appalled and offended. Not at him, but just at the audacity. I felt like I was literally a walking statistic, and somebody just had my strings, and they were just pulling them, and I was doing whatever they knew I was already going to do. I decided that I will never let anybody tell my story for me. So, I started writing songs, and we started working together from there.
I came home in December 2015 and around 2018 Die Jim Crow became a nonprofit and he asked if I would join the board. Since then, we just kept building together and in 2020 we became a record label. I became Co-Executive Director in 2022, and now I lead Development, Communications, and we split programming down the middle.
Evan: How would you describe the mission of Freer Records?
BL Shirelle: Originally our mission was to dismantle stereotypes around race in prison in America. When we became Freer Records, we evolved our mission to build the careers of prison-impacted musicians so that their work is widely heard, uncensored, and upholding of their humanity. We want to be viewed as a legitimate record label who break barriers and get people’s work out so they can be seen for their humanity.
These artists own 100% of their masters because we’re a nonprofit. The difference between us and other nonprofits is that we don’t want to be this charity where the person just sends a bad song home to their daughter. We want the talent to lead. So we want the music to be phenomenal. We want the product to be undeniable. We want to work with the best of the best talent, and we want to get their work out there.
And we want to break the censorship barrier because that’s how mass incarceration thrives. It’s because people are not seen nor heard and when you’re not seen or heard, people aren’t thinking about you.
When Lady Lifers performed their song at a Ted Talk, only two women were commuted from their life sentences between 1984 to 2014. After that performance, that number jumped over 400% because audiences were looking at these old women and they’re seeing grandmothers, aunties, and they’re like, oh my God. And their performance changed the trajectory for commutation in Pennsylvania. One song. That’s what we want to do on a grand level.
Evan: The way you frame the mission of Freer Records is so powerful. How does it work logistically?
BL Shirelle: It all depends on the institution. It all depends on the state. It all depends on the regime. In every election cycle things will change.
For example, in Colorado we dropped the Americana grassroots album, TLAXIHUIQUI, and the state of Colorado loved it. At this time, we were also working on one of our other initiatives of getting instruments in prison. And the band leader who is serving five life sentences was moved from a max facility to a medium security facility so that he can run this music program with the instruments that we put in there. Colorado also helped us administer the royalties. And then a new regime came in and they didn’t give a fuck about none of that.
But when you can get into the prison, you could be put anywhere: a cafeteria, a gym, a janitor’s closet. The only consistent thing is consistency. You must adjust and not allow red tape to stop you. You must be nimble and know how to work around everything.
One of the biggest challenges is censorship. If you allow censorship to go past a certain point, you are delivering a curated message from the D.O.C. and you end up delivering the message that they want out. And that goes against everything that we stand for.
Evan: What is your message for artists and producers who are also committed to ending the mass incarceration of marginalized communities?
BL Shirelle: You can’t save the world. You can’t do it alone. So, it must be about collaboration. It’s about offering what you offer and bringing in other people to fill in your weak points.
Count your wins. We have an artist who was exonerated after serving 26 years in prison. His name is El Bently 448. He performed plays. He made music and he snuck a mixtape out to us – “Innocent Born Guilty.” And he told the whole story. And he fought for his freedom. He really advocated for himself until he got enough global support for it to work out in his favor. And he got out. That was huge.
And I have another artist right now who we just launched a petition for: Spoon Jackson. He’s served 48 years in prison. We’re trying to get him out for his 50th year.
These things take time. You’re not always going to win, but when you do win, embrace that. It can feel draining at times, and it feels like you’re up against this massive thing, because you are.
But when you make those wins and when one person gets free, embrace that. Let it pour into you to give you enough energy to keep on with the fight. You’re not going to be able to change the world overnight. So, just take small steps. Focus on what’s in front of you and just knock your goals out one by one by one.
Read more articles by Evan Mitchell Schares on Artblog.
