The Creation of Urban Soul

(The Tipping Point and JOE in the 90s)

By Anthony D’Juan

Sly and The Family Stone would tip their hats – as would all soul sounds of the late sixties and seventies – when the truth comes out that The Roots are the truest soul band since soul bands stopped being soul bands and went R&B (a term in itself that lost value with it’s attempted come backs and foul ups in the nineties -- the decade of slow jams and beggary copied by all, yet mastered by few).  Hints of a, long overdue, departure from hip-hop as we know it showed in The Roots 2002’s Phrenology – which dropped around the same time as Common’s mediocre Electric Circus.  Both albums played in the Hendrix school of sound with flower/funk experimentation that left listeners on the fence of “this is either really bad, or undeniably brilliant”.  The Roots proved the latter with Phrenology and have now taken it further with their latest, The Tipping Point (Geffen Records). 

            With all the complexities used in Phrenology (from the calming sound of “Sacrifice”, (with Nelly Furtado), down to the brilliant rock and roll birth right of “The Seed (2.0)” – originated by Cody ChestnuTT, who sings the hook), The Tipping Point simplifies their mission and cuts straight to the core of urban frustration:  the climb to evolution, (with their use of young Malcolm Little aka Malcolm X on the front cover with his tip hat and wondering eyes) without banging listeners over the head with X-Clan style protest – though Mos Def and Talib Kwali have taken neo-black protest to a more accessible state, the protest record is dead in popular culture.  Rather The Roots take an approach of the unconscious, with little apology.  On Phrenology Amiri Baraka joined the group to recite, perhaps, the truest stance on black self-responsibility:  “Something In the Way of Things (In Town)”.  Baraka’s message takes a stance of “stand up and get serious.”  The words themselves sound strangely within the black republican field of thought – in the take of self-responsibility – yet he doesn’t preach; he warns of the decline of culture if one doesn’t remember who one has been, and who one can become if one does not take serious to the power of the “now.”

            Yet The Tipping Point is used for something else.  A “welcome back” for urban music (supported by people such as The Nappy Roots, Anthony Hamilton, D’Angelo, John Legend); it’s a reassurance that experimentation is an acceptable (if not, a necessary) approach in pop culture.  For Kanye West has fooled us with risk taking, in his talks of God and “George Bush don’t like black people”, leaving listeners to question value, moral stance, and the appearance of good will.  The Tipping Point allows us to enjoy a purity, without telling the listener how to feel, and gives a sense of remembrance that we lost hold of.  Anthony Hamilton, though a vocal beauty, stagnates with his wandering sense of word play; John Legend picks up where D’Angelo left off; yet The Roots aren’t afraid to be themselves (they sit in their own right, just as the brilliant Jas Stone).  The Tipping Point contradicts with it’s beautiful “remake” of Sly and The Family Stone’s “Everybody is a Star”, on to the hard hitting “I Don’t Care” (“The Seed (2.0)” sequel – in theory) – both songs complement each other; whereas “Star/Pointro” is a story of self belief, “I Don’t Care” is about moving forward with the “self” that has been discovered.  The nostalgic “Boom!” featuring Big Daddy Kane and Kool G. Rap reminds us of hip-hops’ long lost legacy, brought back only to be ignored (in these days of Kanye West and 50 Cent) by pop culture clusters, fucked over in their own right. 

            The Tipping Point, like all Roots albums, continues forward with music innovation, avoiding self-inspired pretensions.  Whereas Common can’t seem to pave his rode, as he did on Like Water For Chocolate,  The Roots aren’t afraid to grow.  Common’s new thing about playing in to pop culture is the very thing that shuts him out.  The Roots don’t attempt to be a part of pop culture; they create their own myth by way of self-perseverance.   

Nostalgia

(JOE in the 90s)

“Tell me what kind of man

Would treat his woman so cold.

Treat you like you’re nothing,

When you’re worth more than gold.”

…so begins the braggadocio, practically, weak-minded opening to JOE’s “All the Things (Your Man Won’t Do)”, which tells the fable of promise to a working class woman, caught up in a common relation.  Yet JOE has the answer to her mishap – an infedelic joyride to temporary romance, where “big bank take little bank” over stands in the ongoing climb to flash fortune that dominates the cliché of love.

This is the very tribute to JOE’s brilliance in terms of this timeless tune.  The tune that creates the clearest picture of begging by ultimatum, since Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get it On” – which tells the bold desire of male vulnerability.  JOE’s willingness to risk pride gives him the upper hand amongst his peers (the quasi-sexuality of Teddy Riley; the youthful ignorance of H-Town) in that his guard is nowhere present while he begs; and by using psuedo-confidence and overblown metaphors:

“I’ll light a thousand candles all around

show me to the subway,

I’ll go down.”

He allows the male ego to perish; he let’s his immaturity be in the forefront, and isn’t ashamed of male inferiority to women in the pursuit of lust; JOE takes the risk of allowing her response to either raise or crush his journey.  Unlike the dominant killjoy of Freddie Jackson, JOE allows no room for male machismo.  He welcomes feminine reality, as did Gaye, to flourish the risk of “amongst the guys” humiliation – the very element that makes the song dangerous to begin with.  For man to let go of his power equates him with original intents of the Adam and Eve story or Othello – into say, God planned to keep man/woman equal, until Eve bit the apple or Yago’s envy took front and center.

“All the Things” plays into male fantasy (making cliché out of black women) in that all one needs to get ahead is the Russian roulette risqué and resolution to displease the unworthy (in Paul Hunter’s pathetic video for “All the Things”, Joe wins her over, leaving the boyfriend in shambles); this is a misinterpretation for the short span listeners.  JOE plays into illusions of romance (in itself an oxymoron) by inviting sweet talk, riches, and multi-orgasma.  He leaves out true love  -- not once saying, “I love you”, which makes the song twice as sexy – limiting the affair too physical (unlike Jodeci’s brilliant “Come and Talk to Me”, that promises male interest verse possible, and very likely, female rejection).  JOE promises diversion rather than indulgence, and never sways our expectations in fibbery.  He tells us to except our desires, with out shame – as did Gaye, as does Prince, as does D’Angelo – and true acceptance to one’s weakness.  For “All the Things” tells the story of human decadence in it’s sexiest and ignores compromise.

Fireworks Photo Caption

Extraordinary Machine

Fiona Apple

A quick insert by

Anthony D’Juan

Since her split from director Paul Thomas Anderson (Hard 8, Boogie Nights, Magnolia, and Punch Drunk-Love), Fiona Apple has created a legacy that she could never live up to.  And this is proven on Extraordinary Machine (the most experimental and musically advanced album since D’Angelo’s Voodoo; or Tom Waits Blood Money and Alice).  Extraordinary Machine taps into the sound of the circus act.  There’s a beautiful blend from new producer Mike Elizondo – based on the previous production from the brilliant Jon Brion – that glows a sense of mythology.  Apple, since her previous When the Pawn…, took the time to create a voice so distinct that she now has the challenge of topping herself (MC Lyte had this same problem with the brilliant Act Like You Know, as did Mary J. Blige with My Life; the difference is, Apple has the capacity to stretch).  The rumors of the record labels shelving the album are revealed as false (Apple herself shelved the album, based on seeming, dissatisfaction with the quality).  Extraordinary Machine was worth the wait.  The brilliant often go slow and crazy.  Apple has taken her time (the album has been complete since May 2003); and here we are, with our tongues out, begging to hear what she has to say. 

The album will release Oct 4.  For those who want to check it out early go to:

http://www.myspace.com/fionaapple