{"id":3626,"date":"2025-11-13T11:49:05","date_gmt":"2025-11-13T11:49:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/2025\/11\/13\/the-music-beats-favorite-tiny-desk-performances\/"},"modified":"2025-11-13T11:49:10","modified_gmt":"2025-11-13T11:49:10","slug":"the-music-beats-favorite-tiny-desk-performances","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/2025\/11\/13\/the-music-beats-favorite-tiny-desk-performances\/","title":{"rendered":"The Music Beat\u2019s favorite Tiny Desk performances"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><\/p>\n<div>\n<p><em>Musicians are constantly reimagining their discography, and nowhere are these changes more radical than the stage. Tiny Desk provides a uniquely intimate platform for these reinventions to take place \u2014<\/em> <em>everything from hip-hop to classical to the pretentious indie rock that gave the show its claim to fame has a home in the snug nooks of the Tiny Desk stage. <\/em>J<em>oin The Michigan Daily\u2019s Music Beat writers as we explore our favorite Tiny Desk reinventions.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>\u2014 Music Beat Editor Amaya Choudhury and Senior Arts Editor Nickolas Holcomb<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong>Little Simz<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>\u201cThere\u2019s a war.\u201d Not a suggestion, not a question \u2014 a statement. Marching drums and low-end piano chords enter first. Then a fade-in from black reveals a living room situated in the middle of a pitch-black space and a garrison of musicians. The camera moves in, coming to settle close on London-based rapper Little Simz\u2019 face, stony and resolved as she utters these first words of her song \u201cIntrovert\u201d off the then-upcoming 2021 project, <em>Sometimes I Might Be Introvert<\/em>. She sits cross-legged, staring down the camera as she preaches about corruption, oppression and family with uncompromising precision.\u00a0<\/p>\n<aside class=\"scaip scaip-1    \">\n\t\t<\/aside>\n<p>This is a fitting beginning for <a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=Nkt93coQzqg&amp;t=1019s\">Little Simz\u2019s Tiny Desk Concert<\/a>, set in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic and the Black Lives Matter movement \u2014 a context that\u2019s impossible to ignore. Aside from the lyrical content of the opening track that alludes to an outer world torn asunder, Little Simz finds herself physically outside of the NPR Tiny Desk room. She is instead perched on the couch of a faux living room (one of <a href=\"https:\/\/youtube.com\/playlist?list=PLy2PCKGkKRVYPm1tBwoX45ocAzuhVyvJX&amp;si=eRLehbbvN7hhyD2D\">many<\/a> personalized sets built for NPR\u2019s Tiny Desk (Home) concert series), spotlit in the middle of inky darkness. The staging is curated, reading as both intimate yet menacing; cozy, but polished.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s not the decor that controls the energy of the space, though \u2014 it\u2019s Little Simz herself. The tense opening turns defiant by the end of the first song, as she raises her fist and declares, \u201cas long as we\u2019re unified, we\u2019ve already won.\u201d Her second performance, a debut of \u201cI Love You, I Hate You,\u201d is similarly pointed, but trades the grandiosity of \u201cIntrovert\u201d for a percussive groove and a repeated vocal sample of the track\u2019s title. The expert musicianship of Little Simz\u2019 band moves with her, malleable in the palm of her vocal agility. The song rises to a fever pitch, then breaks down into spacious pockets and harmonies from her trio of background singers. As Little Simz dances, eyes the camera gliding through the set and pierces through the song\u2019s jazzy backdrop to deliver her message straight to the song\u2019s target \u2014 her father \u2014 it\u2019s clear who is really in control of the room.<\/p>\n<p>Though she performs in a staged living room, Little Simz may as well be in her own home as she leaps into another new song, the bouncy afropop track, \u201cPoint and Kill.\u201d It\u2019s a transition that exhibits her equal comfort with confrontation and simply vibing out. She invites an impeccably dressed Obongjayar, rising Nigerian R&amp;B star and the song\u2019s feature, onto the carpet to sing with her and introduces each member of her band with the ease of a host flitting about a house party pointing out her friends and esteemed guests. The performance closes with \u201cWoman,\u201d an ode to her mother and a lush neo-soul track that loses none of Little Simz\u2019 signature swagger; she stands in the middle of the room, a maestro of the rich music around her, thanking her audience. She sinks back into the couch where she started, puts her hands behind her head and lets the band play her out. It\u2019s a move that oozes effortless ease and class, a punctuation on her masterclass in storytelling, versatility and utterly compelling cool. Little Simz was born at the top of her game, and her Tiny Desk is certainly no exception.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p><em>Daily Arts Writer Matt Popp can be reached at <\/em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.michigandaily.com\/arts\/music\/the-music-beats-favorite-tiny-desk-performances\/mailto:poppmatt@umich.edu\"><em>poppmatt@umich.edu<\/em><\/a><em>.<\/em> <\/p>\n<p><strong>The Roots feat. Bilal<\/strong><\/p>\n<aside class=\"scaip scaip-2    \">\n\t\t<\/aside>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=eB4oFu4BtQ8\">The Roots and Bilal\u2019s Tiny Desk Concert<\/a> perfects the three-act structure.<\/p>\n<p>The Roots begin with a jazzy prologue, a cover of the funky \u201cGimme Some More\u201d by The J.B\u2019s. With a bigger band, the Tiny Desk version\u2019s well-layered saxophones sound noticeably thicker than the original. There is no bass or tambourine in the cover. Instead, some claps and Questlove\u2019s lively drums take their place, giving the song less of a funky and danceable edge. The lack of groove works to push the listener aside. Where the original might inspire us to move to it, this version feels communal \u2014 inspiring us to move alongside it, as though we\u2019re in a street parade.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s perhaps this marching, parade-like quality that allows Bilal to shine. When he comes in, we all feel ready to celebrate, but the whole band winds down instead. They put on a sparse layer of instrumental smoke, and Bilal\u2019s voice pierces through it on \u201cIt Ain\u2019t Fair.\u201d He\u2019s calm yet sharp \u2014 so justified and certain of his anger that his verse reads like a pointed sermon: \u201cI pray the Lord their souls to keep \/ Because wolves disguised as sheep patrol our streets.\u201d Black Thought follows Bilal\u2019s lyrics with a complex verse about ignorance and its sources, and the band complements his delivery, upping the tempo. It\u2019s a remarkable one-two punch which The Roots and Bilal repeat twice more \u2014 each time with rising intensity. The band\u2019s instruments thicken as the concert progresses, reaching the same level of fullness as the prologue but with a darker, more somber edge. Clapping and lively drumming turn into a howl for justice, with trombones and tubas passionately wailing away. All the while, Bilal and Black Thought continue to develop the song\u2019s themes, pointing out things that contribute to rising racial tensions like social media, the lack of education and the misuse of religion.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>By the end, Bilal cries \u201cIt ain\u2019t fair\u201d and practically wages a war on the now foreboding, aggressive-sounding band. Those last three minutes are a grand explosion of passion and anger, of dissatisfaction and restlessness, and they are by far the most moved I\u2019ve ever been by a Tiny Desk Concert. Over the course of only two songs, The Roots and Bilal take us on a devastating journey about community. The concert pulls us close together, prompting us to clap and chant. Then, they remind us of the power of community; of how, together, we can prevent all this violence, yet we consistently let it persist.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p><em>Senior Arts Editor Ben Luu can be reached at <\/em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.michigandaily.com\/arts\/music\/the-music-beats-favorite-tiny-desk-performances\/mailto:benllv@umich.edu\"><em>benllv@umich.edu<\/em><\/a><em>.<\/em><\/p>\n<aside class=\"scaip scaip-3    \">\n\t\t<\/aside>\n<p><strong>Action Bronson<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=CUN8pdgA0m8\">Action Bronson\u2019s Tiny Desk Concert<\/a> is proof that some artists are meant to live outside the confines of studio recordings. From the moment he begins pacing across NPR\u2019s cramped stage, his booming voice rises and falls, creating a sense of space with his words. His music is expansive and stretches beyond the confines of even the Tiny Desk; every bar feels more conjured than rehearsed, as if improvised on the spot.<\/p>\n<p>His band amplifies his unorthodox instincts. Backed by Human Growth Hormone, Bronson and his bandmates speak to one another through their music. Saxophonist Matt \u201cYung Mehico\u201d Carrillo turns \u201cDmtri\u201d devotional with his solo. Bronson clasps his fists in prayer, feeding off every note as if it is charging him up. \u201cLive From the Moon\u201d weaves rain sounds and jazzy piano into bongos and Bronson\u2019s frantic pleas. It\u2019s tropical and meditative, exemplifying music\u2019s transportive abilities. Clearly, Bronson is taken by the sweet sounds of the saxophone: He takes a knee, temporarily swapping the spotlight with \u201cYung Mehico,\u201d joining his audience in spirit. Throughout the set, Bronson remains animated as ever, gripping his skull fervently. In a later aside we learn that this is his attempt to \u201cdownload the words.\u201d What begins in his mind finds its way into ours. He knows what to say, and he feels every word. \u201cI told you I couldn\u2019t stand still. How do you play music still?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>But Bronson\u2019s real genius is how he folds his persona into the performance. \u201cI also want to let you know the edibles just hit,\u201d he announces with a grin, a minute into \u201cTerry.\u201d His lyrics dissolve into gibberish, forcing him to restart the track: \u201cIf I don\u2019t do it right, it\u2019s not right.\u201d He comes back stronger, bigger, louder, fiercer. When he apologizes \u2014 \u201cI was in another world, excuse me for a second\u201d \u2014 it\u2019s unnecessary. He\u2019s already brought us with him.<\/p>\n<p>On \u201cLatin Grammys,\u201d Bronson bends the chorus into stand-up. \u201cI might not be able to touch my toes, but I still fuck these (hoes),\u201d he raps, only to undercut himself with a perfectly timed aside: \u201cI\u2019ve been able to touch my toes for about three years now.\u201d He makes conversation musical, riffing until even throwaway lines land like hooks. Later, a soundboard of eagle cries, thunder and crashing lightning turn the NPR office into a cartoon storm, another reminder that Bronson can\u2019t resist chaos.<\/p>\n<aside class=\"scaip scaip-4    \">\n\t\t<\/aside>\n<p>For most artists, Tiny Desk strips the performer down to their essentials. For Bronson, it magnifies him. We are able to see his true voice as it fills his song\u2019s gaps with personality as much as melody. The set is devotional, chaotic and funny in equal measure \u2014 a reminder that his greatest instrument isn\u2019t his voice or his band, but rather his refusal to stand still.<\/p>\n<p><em>Daily Arts Contributor Esha Nair can be reached at <\/em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.michigandaily.com\/arts\/music\/the-music-beats-favorite-tiny-desk-performances\/mailto:eshanair@umich.edu\"><em>eshanair@umich.edu<\/em><\/a><em>.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong>Alice Sara Ott<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The tumultuous roar of Chopin\u2019s Prelude No. 24 opens <a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=-XppUz4SkLk&amp;list=PL1B627337ED6F55F0&amp;index=263\">Alice Sara Ott\u2019s Tiny Desk Concert<\/a>, as the German-Japanese pianist makes the singular upright piano sound like a Steinway at Carnegie Hall. The right-hand melody rings out before exploding into arpeggiated releases. Tension rises in Ott\u2019s playing as she grapples with the simultaneous anguish and triumph this prelude emits. There\u2019s a sense of finality as the dramatic final notes (popularly referred to as nails in a coffin) are stabbed into the piano. However, Ott is just getting started.<\/p>\n<p>Opening with the final prelude is quite a statement \u2014 one that is extremely hard to follow up. Ott meticulously chooses not to push the boundaries of this extreme, but instead approach the Preludes\u2019 connection to life, memory and emotions from the other end of the spectrum. Chopin\u2019s Prelude No. 7 is played next, charmingly and innocently for less than 40 seconds, sounding like an afterthought compared to Prelude No. 24. What makes Ott\u2019s Tiny Desk performance so rewarding is that while she juxtaposes the extremes of pianistic skill in Chopin\u2019s writing, she underscores the importance of emotional depth and context in music.<\/p>\n<aside class=\"scaip scaip-5    \">\n\t\t<\/aside>\n<p>Context is a driving force in Ott\u2019s performance of her 2021 release, <em>Echoes of Life<\/em>. Almost as an intermission in her program, Ott breaks to discuss the necessity of context, suggesting that our perception of music \u2014 whether as \u201cold, dusty and elite,\u201d or as \u201cmodern, relevant and inclusive to us\u201d \u2014 shapes its accessibility and emotional meaning. She drives this point home by combining Chilly Gonzales\u2019 2018 \u201cPrelude in C-Sharp Major\u201d with Chopin\u2019s \u201cRaindrop\u201d prelude to close out her Tiny Desk session. By connecting these preludes as if they were always meant to be played as a pair, Ott asserts that \u201cMusic is timeless\u201d and displays the beauty of taking risks in music.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Ott\u2019s grasp of emotional complexity and meaning makes the connections between music spanning 200 years feel tangible. Both preludes open meditatively, turn dark with dissonant harmonies and louder dynamics, before returning to their beautiful beginnings. They are portraits of the same conflicting moments of joy, fulfillment, pain and uncertainty that make up our lives. It doesn\u2019t matter if the music was created this year or centuries before; if one is playing on a keyboard or grand piano; for an audience or not. It is the context \u2014 the stories, emotions and catalysts \u2014 beneath music that makes it such a profound representation of life. This Tiny Desk session is a perfect illustration of Ott\u2019s keen ability to make music transcend time, space and expectations.<\/p>\n<p><em>Daily Arts Contributor Tobin Saxton can be reached at <\/em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.michigandaily.com\/arts\/music\/the-music-beats-favorite-tiny-desk-performances\/mailto:tobinsax@umich.edu\"><em>tobinsax@umich.edu<\/em><\/a>.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Tyler, The Creator<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=N1w-hDiJ4dM\">Tyler, The Creator\u2019s Tiny Desk Concert<\/a> highlights Tyler Okonma\u2019s most important attribute: his humility.<\/p>\n<aside class=\"scaip scaip-6    \">\n\t\t<\/aside>\n<p>In the midst of his Tiny Desk performance, Tyler, The Creator openly admits that he cannot sing. It\u2019s easy to think this would limit his musical capabilities, but that\u2019s not the case. Tyler\u2019s ability to admit to his shortcomings and relinquish his ego makes him one of the most impactful musical powerhouses of the last ten years, emphasized by his stunning Tiny Desk performance.<\/p>\n<p>This humility is present from the moment the Tiny Desk begins. For a minute and 29 seconds, Tyler doesn\u2019t even appear on screen. He allows the sweet melodies of his fellow pianist Jaret Landon to beautifully weave in and out of Kaye Fox and Kiandra Richardson\u2019s lush vocals. The first shot of Tyler is him in the audience, looking incredibly proud of the talents onstage.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Unlike any other Tiny Desk up until that point, Tyler decided to set up his own lighting for the stage, giving himself a way to capture the mood of his music visually as well as sonically. The gentle blues, purples and reds complement the easygoing, nocturnal palate of Tyler\u2019s compositions without taking away from the performers\u2019 presence. As an innovator in fashion and a man with directing under his belt, Tyler thinks holistically. While sound might typically be the main star of a Tiny Desk, Tyler engages your full array of senses to bring you into his world.<\/p>\n<p>The way that Tyler builds the energy of the room during \u201cBoredom\u201d is emblematic of the way that he keeps his ego in check. Tyler\u2019s musical genius is on full display, as he invents melodies on the spot and finds phrases for Fox and Richardson to perform. But, at some point, after priming his band to think a bit more improvisationally, he allows these same singers to start making up their own phrases and allows the singers to have the spotlight.<\/p>\n<p>This same back and forth is present in their dreamy performances of \u201cSee You Again\u201d<em> <\/em>and \u201cGlitter\u201d,<em> <\/em>where Tyler often begins verses by himself, but slowly allows the more expressive voices of Fox and Richardson to take center stage. His gravelly, goofy inflections are a fun contrast to the silky soft chords in the background. That authentic, fun-loving vibrancy stitches together a meticulously crafted series of songs.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>The medium of Tiny Desk is, well \u2014 tiny. For most artists, this poses a challenge in adapting their songs. For a man as humble as Tyler, however, this challenge is a strength, and that strength is what makes his Tiny Desk so irresistible.<\/p>\n<p><em>Daily Arts Contributor Nathaniel Evans can be reached at <\/em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.michigandaily.com\/arts\/music\/the-music-beats-favorite-tiny-desk-performances\/mailto:natevan@umich.edu\"><em>natevan@umich.edu<\/em><\/a><em>.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong>PJ Harvey<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAbsence, absence, absence,\u201d PJ Harvey croons a cappella at the beginning of \u201cA Noiseless Noise<em>,<\/em>\u201d a selection from her recent album <em>I Inside The Old Year Dying<\/em> and the second song in <a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=pSUgrhmtXIw\">Harvey\u2019s Tiny Desk Concert<\/a>. It\u2019s not a bad word to describe the performance she offers. Garbed in a simple gray dress and accompanied solely by long-time collaborators John Parish and James Johnston, Harvey forsakes the cluttered aesthetic of the desk in favor of a simple production consisting primarily of her voice and guitar. The signature gaudy attire and roaring electric guitar that brought her fame in the \u201990s are completely missing here \u2014 instead, with an offering of five (mostly) new tracks stripped to their essentials, her stunning songwriting abilities are placed on full display.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>With Harvey\u2019s instrumentation as streamlined as it is, her lyrics \u2014 mostly adapted from her 2022 epic poem \u201cOrlam\u201d and written in a rarely-spoken dialect of her native Dorset \u2014 are given expansive room to captivate. Strumming the acoustic guitar and enunciating each word with purpose, a tangled fairytale emerges as she begins her performance with the song \u201cI Inside The Old I Dying.\u201d Close your eyes and you are transported to the English countryside, hiding from the chalky children of evermore with the beech buds, twoads and all the other creatures as she sings in her clear, cutting upper register. With no grand accompaniment to distract, it recalls treasured childhood memories of hearing your favorite story, putting the listener in a different world filled with magic.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>The overall minimalism of the performance means that the few moments in which Harvey <em>does<\/em> decide to crescendo have intense impact. Following the quiet introduction to \u201cA Noiseless Noise<em>,<\/em>\u201d<em> <\/em>Harvey\u2019s deadpan expression betrays no warning before she abruptly starts striking fervent guitar chords that jolt us out of the established lull. When John Parish joins in with a dissonant violin accompaniment, the sudden forte starts to feel apocalyptic. But not long after Harvey brings her musical world crashing down, the storm passes \u2014 the guitar is returned to a calm strum as Parish lightly sets down the violin. It\u2019s such an intense moment that it almost feels metal, quite a feat for a primarily acoustic folk song. The raw emotion that she packs into the song is both terrifying and electrifying.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Harvey concludes her set with the only song not taken from <em>I Inside The Old Year Dying<\/em>, the title track off her 2007 album <em>White Chalk<\/em>. It\u2019s an apt selection, as its folky vibe and beautiful descriptions of Dorset pair perfectly with the mythos of her more recent material. It connects the twisted fables with the real artist, the prolific poet of today to the rock star of the past. The performance reminds us that Harvey\u2019s constant musical pivots have never been gimmicky or inauthentic\u00a0\u2014 in fact, her versatility has always been her greatest asset.<\/p>\n<p><em>Daily Arts Contributor Max Janevic can be reached at <\/em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.michigandaily.com\/arts\/music\/the-music-beats-favorite-tiny-desk-performances\/mailto:janevicm@umich.edu\"><em>janevicm@umich.edu<\/em><\/a>.<\/p>\n<aside>\n\t\t<\/aside>\n<p><h3 class=\"jp-relatedposts-headline\"><em>Related articles<\/em><\/h3>\n<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Musicians are constantly reimagining their discography, and nowhere are these changes more radical than the stage. Tiny Desk provides a uniquely intimate platform for these reinventions to take place \u2014 everything from hip-hop to classical to the pretentious indie rock that gave the show its claim to fame has a home in the snug nooks [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3627,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[20],"tags":[2816,3629,1382,24,3630,3628],"class_list":{"0":"post-3626","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-entertainment","8":"tag-beats","9":"tag-desk","10":"tag-favorite","11":"tag-music","12":"tag-performances","13":"tag-tiny"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3626","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3626"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3626\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3628,"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3626\/revisions\/3628"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3627"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3626"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3626"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tmbglobal.news\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3626"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}