11.08.2004
Nothing Without You...
"I have no sun, no moon, no stars, no clouds | No day or night, nothing is right | If I don't have you..." ~Smokie Norful
Twice in the last week I’ve held the thought, where would I be without music? Which ironically always seems to bring me back to a question I’ve asked friends for years: would you rather be blind or deaf? A tough question I know because there’s so much to see and yet so much more to hear. How does one even begin to choose? Okay so, if I absolutely had to choose one--->I mean if my hands were tied behind my back and some asshole threatened to either poke out both my eyeballs or puncture my eardrums, I think--->nah I know I’d say: hey, have your way with my eyes.
Fo sho’ cause a brother loves music and would find life not worth living if I couldn’t pop on a Stevie album every-now-and-again and parlay to his seemingly unending genius. I mean damn’ can you imagine it? Life without Michael, and Prince and Miles and Lenny and B.I.G. and Luther and Roberta and fuck, Barry? How would I prep for a party, channel love, wild out and if I chose so afterwards reflect, relate and release? Take my eyes somebody please because now that I think about it, there isn't that much worth seeing in this crime riddled, hate filled world anyway!
Music is my life, so you best believe I am not one of those knuckleheads that discovers one genre declare it the music of God and condemn any other beats, sounds, or lyrics that surface thereafter as works of Satan. Like I said, a bruh loves music. All types, be it jazz, rhythm & blues, rock, alternative, neo-soul, quasi-soul, gospel, hip-hop, REM to Mos Def, Mary J. to Mary Mary; Jill Scott to Carla Cook. What I am trying to return to however is the innocence I once had when it came to accepting new music. You know how it is, you love your favorite artists’ first CD but cringe when he/she suddenly decides to alter his/her well crafted image/art. Take Mary for example...people loved her debut album (What's the 411?) and fell head over heels with her sophomore effort (My Life...) but ever since then people have been like what? What’s wrong with Mary? When did she get so happy? Shit, I want the old Mary back. In life we know nothing stays the same, with art this is almost a requirement. Besides, at 30 something I don’t want to see Mary jumping around with a pair of Timbs hollering real love, settle down bitch and sing a ballad.
This all leads me to the artists that have been capturing my attention…
Dana Owens pka Queen Latifah serves it up on her new set The Dana Owens Album. As an adult who buys music it’s good to know there are still some mainstream artists out there willing to vie for my hard earned dollar. Though I love most of shit out nowadays, there are times when I just want to sit back, enjoy a nice glass of Grand Manier and chill out without feeling the need to drop down and get my eagle on, girl. And Queen Lah does just that for me. Smooth, relaxed and reminiscent of some of the great divas of our time (Sarah, Nina,Dianne) Lah delivers the goods one melodic note after the other. The production is flawless, the songs timeless, and the mood the CD will unquestionably lead you to, timeless.
Unfortunately Jill Scott has fallen into that sophomore what’s up with this new album line of questioning. Personally I love it, most people I’ve spoken to on the other hand don’t. And forget about some of the reviewers on Amazon.com. It’s like a witch hunt for ole’ girl. Which leads me to ask: should an artist fulfill her needs when recording, or the expectations of her following? In my opinion, all art is personal, even those limited few slated for sale. Nevertheless Jill handles her business on Beautifully Human especially on tracks like Can’t Explain where she keenly points out just because you love and lost don’t mean you stop loving. If you have a nightmare, do you stop dreaming? A must question I don’t think too many people have taken the time to stop and ask.
Have you ever exhausted an album so much that you knew every lyric, every adlib, every nuance captured through the power of recording? When Lizz Wright dropped I wasn’t ready, despite the incredible buzz surrounding her immaculate talent. I ended up paying for my ignorance however, through complete and utter servitude. I played her debut album Salt every day, often multiple times a day and never got tired of her silky voice or lingering lyrics. Last week I was forced to remember how much I love this CD while preparing a few compilations for my sister’s 50th birthday celebration. Before I knew it I had used four of her songs and was falling head over heels yet again for the woman who asked me quite boldly: How can you lose your song, when you’ve sung it so long?
When the man passed it was if I’d lost an uncle, or a father. That’s just how tough it was for me to deal with the lost of such a magnificent talent. I don't know about you, but I can’t put on a Barry White song and not feel moved, or inspired to love just a little more. I discovered him late, about 10 years ago when I first stumbled upon Never, Never Gonna Give You Up. That song defined an experience I was having to the letter, a situation I was determined to make work despite God’s every intention to separate us. Eventually God won, I moved on, but Barry and I...let’s just say he’s one spirit I will never, ever let die.
I grew up in the church. For years I played the organ there, directed a choir and was quite the vocalist. Even then secular music was gradually spilling over into traditional gospel and I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe because I’ve always preferred the old school let’s go to church and stomp our feet music, as compared to the wop inspired booty shake hippity-hop let’s reach the young folk music. Though I must admit over the years artists like Mary Mary have somehow managed to find their way into my heart and soul despite my rigid constraints on gospel music. Last week while out shopping for new sounds I decided to check the gospel section (for Jonathan Butler’s new gospel album) and soon stumbled upon Smokie Norful. Though the review is still out I will say the brother can sing, and most of his tracks are growing on me especially his take on the classic I Know The Lord Will Make A Way, a song I’ve loved ever since I was knee high to a grasshopper. Talk about repeat! And a desire to sing! Smokie may soon have me stomping up the street like Shug Avery in The Color Purple with all you heathens behind me waving and shouting a change has come!
That's it, I'm ghost...
|
Twice in the last week I’ve held the thought, where would I be without music? Which ironically always seems to bring me back to a question I’ve asked friends for years: would you rather be blind or deaf? A tough question I know because there’s so much to see and yet so much more to hear. How does one even begin to choose? Okay so, if I absolutely had to choose one--->I mean if my hands were tied behind my back and some asshole threatened to either poke out both my eyeballs or puncture my eardrums, I think--->nah I know I’d say: hey, have your way with my eyes. Fo sho’ cause a brother loves music and would find life not worth living if I couldn’t pop on a Stevie album every-now-and-again and parlay to his seemingly unending genius. I mean damn’ can you imagine it? Life without Michael, and Prince and Miles and Lenny and B.I.G. and Luther and Roberta and fuck, Barry? How would I prep for a party, channel love, wild out and if I chose so afterwards reflect, relate and release? Take my eyes somebody please because now that I think about it, there isn't that much worth seeing in this crime riddled, hate filled world anyway!
Music is my life, so you best believe I am not one of those knuckleheads that discovers one genre declare it the music of God and condemn any other beats, sounds, or lyrics that surface thereafter as works of Satan. Like I said, a bruh loves music. All types, be it jazz, rhythm & blues, rock, alternative, neo-soul, quasi-soul, gospel, hip-hop, REM to Mos Def, Mary J. to Mary Mary; Jill Scott to Carla Cook. What I am trying to return to however is the innocence I once had when it came to accepting new music. You know how it is, you love your favorite artists’ first CD but cringe when he/she suddenly decides to alter his/her well crafted image/art. Take Mary for example...people loved her debut album (What's the 411?) and fell head over heels with her sophomore effort (My Life...) but ever since then people have been like what? What’s wrong with Mary? When did she get so happy? Shit, I want the old Mary back. In life we know nothing stays the same, with art this is almost a requirement. Besides, at 30 something I don’t want to see Mary jumping around with a pair of Timbs hollering real love, settle down bitch and sing a ballad.
This all leads me to the artists that have been capturing my attention…
Dana Owens pka Queen Latifah serves it up on her new set The Dana Owens Album. As an adult who buys music it’s good to know there are still some mainstream artists out there willing to vie for my hard earned dollar. Though I love most of shit out nowadays, there are times when I just want to sit back, enjoy a nice glass of Grand Manier and chill out without feeling the need to drop down and get my eagle on, girl. And Queen Lah does just that for me. Smooth, relaxed and reminiscent of some of the great divas of our time (Sarah, Nina,Dianne) Lah delivers the goods one melodic note after the other. The production is flawless, the songs timeless, and the mood the CD will unquestionably lead you to, timeless.Unfortunately Jill Scott has fallen into that sophomore what’s up with this new album line of questioning. Personally I love it, most people I’ve spoken to on the other hand don’t. And forget about some of the reviewers on Amazon.com. It’s like a witch hunt for ole’ girl. Which leads me to ask: should an artist fulfill her needs when recording, or the expectations of her following? In my opinion, all art is personal, even those limited few slated for sale. Nevertheless Jill handles her business on Beautifully Human especially on tracks like Can’t Explain where she keenly points out just because you love and lost don’t mean you stop loving. If you have a nightmare, do you stop dreaming? A must question I don’t think too many people have taken the time to stop and ask.Have you ever exhausted an album so much that you knew every lyric, every adlib, every nuance captured through the power of recording? When Lizz Wright dropped I wasn’t ready, despite the incredible buzz surrounding her immaculate talent. I ended up paying for my ignorance however, through complete and utter servitude. I played her debut album Salt every day, often multiple times a day and never got tired of her silky voice or lingering lyrics. Last week I was forced to remember how much I love this CD while preparing a few compilations for my sister’s 50th birthday celebration. Before I knew it I had used four of her songs and was falling head over heels yet again for the woman who asked me quite boldly: How can you lose your song, when you’ve sung it so long?When the man passed it was if I’d lost an uncle, or a father. That’s just how tough it was for me to deal with the lost of such a magnificent talent. I don't know about you, but I can’t put on a Barry White song and not feel moved, or inspired to love just a little more. I discovered him late, about 10 years ago when I first stumbled upon Never, Never Gonna Give You Up. That song defined an experience I was having to the letter, a situation I was determined to make work despite God’s every intention to separate us. Eventually God won, I moved on, but Barry and I...let’s just say he’s one spirit I will never, ever let die. I grew up in the church. For years I played the organ there, directed a choir and was quite the vocalist. Even then secular music was gradually spilling over into traditional gospel and I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe because I’ve always preferred the old school let’s go to church and stomp our feet music, as compared to the wop inspired booty shake hippity-hop let’s reach the young folk music. Though I must admit over the years artists like Mary Mary have somehow managed to find their way into my heart and soul despite my rigid constraints on gospel music. Last week while out shopping for new sounds I decided to check the gospel section (for Jonathan Butler’s new gospel album) and soon stumbled upon Smokie Norful. Though the review is still out I will say the brother can sing, and most of his tracks are growing on me especially his take on the classic I Know The Lord Will Make A Way, a song I’ve loved ever since I was knee high to a grasshopper. Talk about repeat! And a desire to sing! Smokie may soon have me stomping up the street like Shug Avery in The Color Purple with all you heathens behind me waving and shouting a change has come! That's it, I'm ghost...
