William Scott: No longer 'Invisible'

When Detroit-native William Scott recorded his Web-released debut he avoided all references to "bling bling" and "phat asses."
Instead, the singer-songwriter's progressive political music is modeled after socially charged tunes from soul-masters Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye.
"We [black gay men] have a hard time being visible on many levels and I think that fight's a constant one," Scott says from his Brooklyn, N.Y. apartment. "It's one of the most poignant thoughts and inspirations for me."
But with bubblegum pop and meaningless tunes dominating mainstream radio, Scott, a fan of culturally progressive music like Donny Hathaway and Lauryn Hill, struggles with the carelessness he hears in today's music. "I honestly don't even listen to the radio anymore because I'm so disappointed with the messages," he says.
It's not like Scott is an old closet-case out of touch with popular culture. He's 26.
"I don't feel that's far away from the target audience [of mainstream radio]," he says. "African-Americans have forgotten a lot of things that have been an influence to our culture in the past and have traded those things for more mainstream and materialistic ideas."
Scott's contributed to four songs on Bell Biv Devoe's 2001 album, "BBD," wrote a song for the soundtrack to "Two Weeks Notice," a film starring Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant, and has worked with Next, Monifah and producer Doug E. Fresh.
With his rich, velvet voice, Scott's album, "Who's Afraid of William Scott?" melts together traditional and modern R & B, hip-hop and soul music with introspective lyrics that examine our social path.
On "Invisible Man" Scott scrutinizes, through personal experience, a social structure where gay men are hidden beneath a facade, where they're oppressed and not acknowledged by society. "We want the same equality as everyone else does," Scott says. "Our love and our passions and our desires are just as valid as anyone else's."
Even with his move to Brooklyn, Scott feels invisible. Not only is he gay; he's also black. And while the stigma of gays showing public affection still lingers in communities, he says it's different for him.
"We still have issues showing our love and our affection in public places," he says. Even in areas where the black population dominates, like Brooklyn and Harlem, Scott feels shut out because "no African-American homosexuals would be able to walk around the street holding hands no matter how openly gay New York is."
Scott's not afraid, though, to use his music as a platform for his sexuality – even if he publicly outs himself. "In the last five or six years I've really opened up as someone that's very proud of who he is," he says. "People won't respect you until you give them a reason to."
Being out as a gay black man is Scott's reason, and he gives people an ultimatum: either accept me or don't. He says, "That way you know who's really on your team."
While his album is picking up momentum after Out magazine featured him as one of six top gay musicians, Scott relishes releasing his music independently, but wouldn't be closed off to a record deal that would allow him to continue his "FreeSoul," a musical tapestry that spans genres and ideas.
"What I want to do is find a label that understands my struggle," he says. And with his newfound fame he's getting emails and letters left and right. "People write in saying, 'You really inspired me,'" he says. "It lets me know that what I'm trying to do is really happening and really affecting people."