“Let me take you on a journey through Carmel City.”
CL Smooth. "Carmel City", off The Main Ingredient album. Green St. Recording, 1994.
June brings a lot of beauty. Perhaps no greater charm than the month’s recognition of African-American Music Appreciation Month (aka Black Music Month). As a tribute, join me as I venture down memory lane to detail a few highlights of the culture’s many iconic & captivating genres.
Enter a cassette. Now, wait. Wait. WAIT. A little longer. There ... press record! “Milk is chillin', Giz is chillin' What more can I say? Top billin'.” That was the song that made me fall in love with rap. And it was this era of 80's rap, or old-school rap, that was the driver of just about everything else that would follow. I’ll never forget waiting for the radio station to come back from a commercial or change from some other song — to play "Top Billin’" by Audio Two. I absolutely had to ‘own’ that song. Do you happen to recall the track that, if perhaps it didn’t introduce you to a music genre, still inspired you like none other? That feeling, you’ll remember, is as lush as the best memories, I’m sure. I can still feel the buttons of my boom box underneath my eager fingertips (you had to push down TWO buttons to record a song in those days). And from that moment my journey into black music appreciation ascended.
There’s no way to understate the influence of old school R&B either. There’s no way to simply forget tracks like "Simply Forget Me Nots", and all the other 80’s R&B music my mom or my grandparents played around the home. These songs helped shaped my background. The block parties, the backyard cookouts, the fish-fry Saturday's at Heckscher State Park, the dinner dances at Marina Del Rey in the Bronx, and tons more of the good times. They’re the life blood of my warmest memories with family & friends.
Go back even further in time, most soul tracks I actually did need to backtrack on learning about the origin. There’s a term labeled 'diggin’ in the crates'. It’s used to describe efforts of hip-hop producers who look to sample vintage sounds from a myriad of dated tracks. So, it was usually when I heard the at-the-time current rap song that I became familiar with the elder song from which the producer used a key element or hook. But not in the case of "One Step Ahead", one of the sweetest and most scintillating hits from Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin. I’ll always vividly remember my grandmother playing that track in the living room. Now, this is not to suggest I was enjoying it alongside her. Quite the contrary. It was just on. Just. Meaning, I heard it. But I didn’t listen to it. Until …
“I know I can't afford to stop for one moment … that it's too soon to forget.” Wait! What? I know those lyrics firing off at the top of one of the best hip-hop recordings ever, "Ms. Fat Booty", from the lyrical genius, Mos Def. But, as talented as he is with his own pen game, those are not his lyrics. They’re Aretha Franklin’s. It’s “One Step Ahead”. I can see grandma again, in my mind, relaxing in the living room. Mos Def’s producer dug in the crates and pulled out a gem. That’s just one thing I love about hip-hop; they blended sounds to create masterpieces. The music, the fashion, the lingo, the attitude — the culture. You don’t only listen to hip-hop; you are hip-hop. It’s not just black music; it’s black pride for an entire generation. And I was blessed to have it in my life.
My Life. I’m not repeating myself. My Life is my most treasured non-rap album. Of all time. Of any other genre. And it’s the perfect segue, to go from soul … to hip-hop … and now to hip-hop soul. From Aretha Franklin, Queen of Soul … to Mary J. Blige, Queen of Hip-Hop Soul and the author of My Life, her sophomore LP. There was no sophomore jinx here. It’s Mary at her best. In my opinion, it's the defining work ever for the genre. Some may argue. But when "Mary’s Joint" drops, you get all the feels. All the pain. All the love. All the vibes of a generation. All the hip-hop. And all the soul. Multiply that by 13 (the number of songs on My Life, minus the intro and interludes) and you have, in essence, hip-hop soul at its finest. If you’ve never taken a listen, do yourself a favor and go do so now. I promise you it holds up, even to this day.
I’m cheating a bit, separating out hip-hop soul and R&B. They’re enough alike to be considered the same. But pure hip-hop soul has influence from rap and hip-hop that helps discernible listeners hear the variance. Just like true R&B has its own roots that can’t be confused with hip-hop soul. Perhaps the best analogy is the contrast between how many would describe making love versus f*cking. It’s all sex at the end of the day. But dissimilar. Now, I could rattle off dozens of beautiful songs vying for number one on my top R&B list. It really just depends on the day or the mood I’m in. Ask me tomorrow and I’m sure it’ll be different. For now, I’ll go with "Stay" by Jodeci. Sincere apologies to Jodeci’s "Come & Talk to Me", Shai’s "If I Ever Fall In Love", SWV’s "Weak", Janet Jackson’s "Any Time, Any Place", Faith’s "All This Love", and so many others. On second thought, I can’t do it; too many I love. We can (we should) celebrate each and every R&B ballad. After all, it is Black Music Month.
More than your everyday R&B, and beyond just soul music, in the 90’s, a wave of young, hip, fervent artists captured the essence of black music with a slight, but distinctive neoteric voice: the aptly-named neo-soul. It's been highlighted by artists such as India Arie, D’Angelo, Erykah Badu, Maxwell, Jill Scott, Anthony Hamilton, Angie Stone, Floetry, and my personal favorite of the bunch, Musiq. The sexy, soulful sound of their compositions is enough to make you go "halfcrazy". In a good way, of course. When I think of true cool-out tunes, neo-soul always did give me good vibes. Of all the genres, I think I can say it’s the one I find myself most listening to today. Thanks, Alexa.
As you can tell, I enjoyed urban music throughout the entirety of my youth. But, truth be told, my favorite period was the late 80’s through the early 90’s. All the genres were on point. And while others would continue on until this day, for one in particular this time wouldn’t just be its golden age … but it would also mark its only age: new jack swing. Short-lived as new jack was, and for all the hits released in its time, it makes sense I most identify the genre with one-hit wonder Jeff Redd’s "You Called And Told Me". Still, there was so much energy and style in new jack. Incredibly infectious. Utterly unforgettable. You can’t talk about black music without giving new jack its due.
“Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns … As I crush so-called willies, thugs, and rapper-dons.” Any number of lyrics could’ve been used to represent the best rap has offered us. Nas. Jay-Z. 2Pac. Rakim. Kane. Andre 3000. Black Thought. Common. Redman. G Rap. So, why did I choose Biggie’s opening from "Kick In The Door"? Well, on top of Big being my favorite artist of all-time, this track in particular is a microcosm of the style, grace, wordplay, fire & ferocity of rap’s elite songs. And in ‘97, after his tragic passing, we were given one final chance to enjoy some of the best rap has served us. I couldn’t truly do a Black Music Month tribute without honoring the King of New York. Rap was the greatest inspiration I had toward becoming a writer. My poetry, short stories, film script (only the one; it was terrible), multitude of John Deere advertisements, and especially this blog. They happened because I fell in love with rap. I appreciate all black music. But none more than the sentiment I have for rap music.
I never understood a word of patois as a youth. But it didn’t stop me from loving reggae. In fact, I’d argue Jamaican patois allows untrained ears to better enjoy the rhythms of the music because you’re less focused on the words and more entranced by the melody. No song, for me, was more electric than "Murder She Wrote". If you know the song, then you know that contagious beat. I’m certain you can hear it right now as you read this, just pulsating in your head. I couldn’t dance to save my life (still can’t), but I can’t begin to describe how important reggae and dancehall music has been to me in enjoying and celebrating black culture. From Beenie Man to Bob Marley, Beres Hammond to Bounty Killa, Barrington Levy to Buju Banton, and so many others. It’s one of the best aspects of growing up in New York City; to have the privilege to be raised around reggae.
Do you recall your first crush? I do! She goes by one name: the inimitable Sade. Before I address her, know that smooth jazz was a staple in my upbringing. It was my grandfather’s fave. When he wasn’t listening to AM news, he was enjoying a sultry local New York radio station, CD 101.9 — in the house, in the car, and anywhere else, I imagine. While it didn’t bother me, it also wasn’t tops on my list. I’d find a song or two that would appeal to me. And, I admit, the tracks were quite soothing. But I hadn’t yet developed a great appreciation of lyric-less music. So, when every so often they played a song with actual words, naturally it stood out. Then I heard it … "Sweetest Taboo"; one of Sade’s many (many!) classics. That angelic, yet seductive voice. To say it was enthralling would be underselling. I made my mom play more for me. I couldn’t get enough of her. Though it would take several more years before smooth jazz, overall, would grow on me, it was my infatuation with Sade that started it all.
“Now, take these words home and think it through.”
Prodigy. "Shook Ones, Part II", off The Infamous album. Battery Studios, 1994.
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