Bittersweet Meshell - Brief Article

Lauryn Hill grabbed more Grammys. Erykah Badu caught more media attention. But to my ears, the most noteworthy black female artist of the 1990s was Meshell Ndegeocello.

This year, Grammy nominators completely overlooked Bitter, Ndegeocello's third and most recent album, which is surprising considering that both Vibe and Newsweek hailed it as "album of the year" for 1999, while Billboard called it "a modern masterpiece."

The landscape of this critically hailed disc is more spartan and reflective than Ndegeocello's previous albums, Plantation Lullabies (1993) and Peace Beyond Passion (1996). In spite of its title, however, the tone of Bitter is neither angry nor vengeful. The instrumentation is largely acoustic, and the music resonates with Ndegeocello's growing interest in Buddhism.

Ndegeocello has collaborated with other musicians, such as John Mellencamp ("Wild Night"), and on Bitter she jams with the couple formerly known as Wendy & Lisa (Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman, a.k.a. Girl Bros), who used to work with the Artist Formerly Known as Prince. Ndegeocello's trademark rhythmic, poetic, hip hop delivery has taken a back seat to her growing skills as a vocalist. She sings heartfelt performances of tunes like "Faithful," "Loyalty," and a haunting cover of Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love." She doesn't go the route of traditional R&B singing; there are no ornate gospel-tinged melismas a la Whitney Houston. Ndegeocello's is a simple, soothing, and honest voice that offers comfort and wisdom without a hint of shrillness or tension.

Unlike Ndegeocello's last two albums, there is virtually no political commentary on Bitter, and there isn't a real dance tune in the bunch. But there is social analysis and, not surprisingly, an unconventional perspective on relationships. "He loves with sweetness and sincerity / While she can only pretend," says the song "Sincerity." This time it isn't some poor Supreme, Vandella, or other wounded female saying, "Baby don't leave me." It's the man in the relationship who "gives his entire self, shares his secrets ... all in vain."

While Ndegeocello says the album is about the ups and downs of love, the bulk of the songs have a message Of sadness and betrayal. And yet, somehow, when the disc is done spinning, the predominant emotions that linger are sincerity and strength.

From the moment I saw the video for Ndegeocello's breakout hit single, "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)" from Plantation Lullabies, I knew I was in the sonic range of a musical force.

The quick-cut, flashing, music-video images revealed a petite, androgynous-looking black woman who fully enjoyed her bald head and whose music moved fluidly and seemingly free of mainstream convention. She wasn't a typical hip-hop artist, or a neoclassic jazz or soul diva, or a (black) chick with guitar singer/songwriter. She was none of that and all of that at the same time.

On the surface, "Boyfriend" was a likable dance tune with a unique groove and a catchy chorus hook. Underneath, it was a dense musical drama with all roles leading to Ndegeocello. She was the cool jazz pianist sustaining chords one minute and chopping up the rhythmic scenery the next. She was the hip hop poet/vocalist with the Kahlua and Cream delivery that blended poetry, rap, and a sultry contralto singing voice. She was the virtuoso bassist whose expression of line and rhythm was a musical universe of its own.

"Boyfriend" was a witty tale of a love triangle ("You say that's your boyfriend, you say I'm out of line. Funny ... he said I could call him up anytime...."), but the unflinching protestations of some of Plantation Lullabies' other songs were harsh enough to put off many listeners.

"Soul on Ice," for example, offered a flaming critique of race and gender politics in the black community. "Excuse me. Does your white woman go better with your Brooks Brothers suit?" she asks of middle class black men who pass their black sisters by in favor of white women. "You no longer burn for the motherland brown skin. You want blonde-haired, blue-eyed soul, / Snow white passion without the hot comb." When this line is taken out of context, you can imagine why some folks might get offended. But listen to the song in its entirety, and although you may not agree with the message, you gotta give props to the messenger.

Ndegeocello's second album, Peace Beyond Passion, was similar in style to Plantation Lullabies, and no less controversial.

This time, the hot-button topic was religion. "Maybe Judas was the better man and Mary made a virgin just to save face," Ndegeocello says in "The Way." "I too am so ashamed on bended knees, prayin' to my pretty white Jesus.... "

If that weren't enough controversy, Ndegeocello has also never hesitated to speak out about her bisexuality. Unlike some performers who've been dragged from the closet kicking and screaming, Ndegeocello has been openly discussing her sexuality from the start.

On Peace Beyond Passion, she sings a tribute to Mary Magdalene: "You're so beautiful. I wish you'd flirt with me.... I imagine us jumpin' the broom."

Whoa! No doubt those were fighting words for white conservative Christians. Black programmers also got nervous. BET decided to ban the video for Peace Beyond Passion's most controversial song, "Leviticus: Faggot," an anti-homophobic epic. "I think it had to do with them trying to `preserve' the black image," Ndegeocello told an interviewer from Vibe.

"Remember back in the day when everyone was black and conscious and down for the struggle?" she reflects on "Diggin You (Like an Old Soul Record)" from Plantation Lullabies. She remains dedicated to the large cause. "My goal for the world is for it to be healed of pain and sorrow," she told Vibe. "For right now, I hope people can just relate to my music and feel good."

Yeah!

Andrea Lewis is co-host of The Morning Show on KPFA radio in Berkeley and an associate editor with Pacific News Service in San Francisco.

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