M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” is more than just a catchy tune; it’s a cultural phenomenon. When I first heard it blasting from my friend Nate’s car speakers on the way to the Sasquatch! Music Festival, I was instantly hooked. Nate, behind the wheel, had insisted I listen to M.I.A., and the opening bars of “Paper Planes” were an immediate revelation. The stuttering guitar and bassline, the pounding drum, and then M.I.A.’s voice, sharp and confident, rapping “I fly like paper, get high like planes,” were unlike anything I’d heard before. By the time the chorus hit with its gunshots and cash register sounds, I was in musical ecstasy. It was rebellious, fresh, and undeniably dangerous. We played it on repeat for the rest of the drive.
Later that day, seeing M.I.A. perform on the main stage, even with “Paper Planes” being the only song of hers I knew at the time, was captivating. Her stage presence was a mix of showmanship and cool detachment. Dressed in a striking gold sequin jacket, teal sequin tights, white sunglasses, and worn Converse sneakers, she commanded the audience with a militant energy. And when “Paper Planes” came on, the crowd erupted, hands mimicking gunshots in unison.
As her set neared its end, she urged the audience to rush the stage. People started jumping the barriers, security was overwhelmed, and suddenly, M.I.A. was surrounded by a joyous, sweaty mob. It was controlled chaos, and she thrived in it. Witnessing this punk rock moment unfold felt like a cultural reset.
It wasn’t just me who was captivated. “Paper Planes” exploded into mainstream consciousness. It became a soundtrack for a generation, heavily featured in trailers for the stoner comedy Pineapple Express, remixed in the Oscar-winning Slumdog Millionaire, and sampled in Kanye West, T.I., and Jay-Z’s hit “Swagga Like Us.” The song’s licensing success was undeniable, but it also sparked a conversation about what “Paper Planes” represented. It became a symbol of rebellion, a defiant gesture against the status quo, even while ironically fueling the engines of commercial success.
It was only later that I realized “Paper Planes” sampled The Clash’s “Straight To Hell.” My Clash knowledge was limited to their biggest hits, but the punk rock DNA of “Paper Planes” was undeniable, even without knowing the sample.
Both M.I.A. and producer Diplo were acutely aware of this lineage. M.I.A. has openly expressed her admiration for The Clash, recognizing their importance to her and to London’s cultural landscape. The music itself evokes that punk spirit through a reggae-infused riff, a testament to the genre-bending attitude both artists share.
In an interview with Mick Jones and Paul Simonon of The Clash, Diplo articulated this connection perfectly. “We both have that reckless abandon. We don’t really look at any rules and we have successes and failures,” he said. “[The Clash] were always pioneers in sonics, of the way music sounded. In one way the message was punk rock but also the attitude of making music was even more in that same punk ethos. That’s why we have a similar attitude.”
Jones resonated with this, noting the parallel between punk rock and hip-hop as voices of the streets. This sentiment echoes Chuck D of Public Enemy, who famously called rap “black America’s CNN.” M.I.A. continues this tradition, especially in “Paper Planes,” positioning her music as a voice for the marginalized, those overlooked and disenfranchised by leaders who don’t represent their interests.
M.I.A. Live on KEXP in 2007
M.I.A. performing live on KEXP in 2007, showcasing her dynamic stage presence and unique style.
The journey to “Paper Planes” was also intertwined with M.I.A.’s personal battles. Following her debut album Arular, named after her political activist father’s code name during the Sri Lankan Civil War, she found herself on a Homeland Security risk list due to her politically charged lyrics. The album addressed the conflict in Sri Lanka, where she spent her childhood after being displaced from London. Her outspoken support for the Tamil Tigers drew scrutiny and controversy, with some even labeling her a “terrorist.”
Despite the backlash, M.I.A. remained steadfast in her activism and her commitment to addressing injustice through her music. While working on her second album, Kala, her visa experiences in America fueled her frustration with the immigrant experience in the US. This frustration became the raw energy behind “Paper Planes.” In a 2007 interview with The Fader, she explained the song’s origins:
“I actually recorded that in Brooklyn, in Bed-Stuy. I was thinking about living there, waking up every morning—it’s such an African neighborhood. I was going to get patties at my local and just thinking that really the worst thing that anyone can say [to someone these days] is some shit like: ‘What I wanna do is come and get your money.’ People don’t really feel like immigrants or refugees contribute to culture in any way. That they’re just leeches that suck from whatever. So in the song, I say ‘All I wanna do is [sound of gun shooting and reloading, cash register opening] and take your money.’ I did it in sound effects. It’s up to you how you want to interpret. America is so obsessed with money, I’m sure they’ll get it.”
These seemingly simple “take your money lyrics” are loaded with meaning. They are not a literal endorsement of theft, but a satirical commentary on the perception of immigrants and refugees as solely motivated by economic gain, as “leeches” rather than contributors. The gunshots and cash register sounds amplify this message, creating a sonic caricature of a money-grabbing immigrant, playing into and subverting negative stereotypes. M.I.A. uses hyperbole and irony to expose the prejudice and misunderstanding faced by immigrant communities.
This heavy message is embedded within a track that became a global pop hit. It mirrors The Clash’s approach in “Straight To Hell,” a song that addresses the plight of immigrants and the socio-economic fallout of industrial decline in England. Joe Strummer’s lyrics, delivered with biting irony, capture the isolation and hostility faced by immigrant communities.
M.I.A. performing at Sasquatch Music Festival in 2014, years after her initial performance, showcasing her enduring connection with the festival and her audience.
While M.I.A. shares a similar politically charged artistic approach with The Clash, she has noted a difference in how she is perceived. In an interview with i newspaper, she observed, “If you are The Clash, you can have a drink with all the other white bands, you have your mentor and protégés. But when you are Tamil, you are the only one, there is no one to have a drink with.” This highlights the unique challenges faced by artists of color in navigating the music industry and the broader cultural landscape.
Ann Powers, in a 2010 Billboard cover story on M.I.A., astutely observed, “She’s trying to do politics and she’s trying to do art. And she doesn’t want to compromise or keep silent. That worked for The Clash, but that was a certain time and a certain place. And it partly worked for them because they were a band, and we’re used to seeing guys be confrontational. If it works for her, she’s even more important than we thought.”
Powers’ words have proven prophetic. M.I.A.’s unwavering commitment to both her art and her political convictions has solidified her status as an icon. “Paper Planes” stands as a pivotal moment in her career, demonstrating how a song with a potent anti-imperialist, pro-immigrant message, encapsulated in those now-iconic “take your money lyrics,” can resonate deeply within mainstream pop culture. It’s a testament to art’s power to transcend boundaries and deliver uncompromising messages to a global audience. Even today, “Paper Planes” remains ubiquitous, appearing in commercials, parties, and on the radio, its message as relevant as ever.
While the sample from The Clash is a crucial element, the true genius of “Paper Planes” lies in M.I.A.’s ability to craft an anthem that functions on multiple levels. She created a song that is both incredibly catchy and profoundly meaningful, prompting listeners to sing along to lyrics that subtly challenge systemic issues and uplift immigrant communities. This is a remarkable achievement.
Just as generations continue to find resonance and meaning in the music of The Clash, “Paper Planes” and M.I.A.’s wider body of work will likely hold similar significance for my generation and those to come. In a world that often feels chaotic and unjust, artists like M.I.A. and The Clash remind us of the power of music to inspire, to provoke thought, and to fuel the fight for a better world. And when we need that reminder, their catalogs are always there, ready to be played on repeat.
