The Best of 2005: Music

By Mark Anthony Neal
SeeingBlack.com Music Critic

Talk about Black music here!

1. George Bush Don't Care About 'Ye
Kanye West—Late Registration (Roc-A-Fella)
OK, let's be honest. Kanye wasn't saying much when he opined about Dubya's concern for those folk "so black, so poor" but let's not pretend, per our man Chappelle, that there ain't risk associated with telling "white folks the obvious." And yeah the boy is way too invested in what he thinks folks are saying about him, but its not like he don't hold himself up to scrutiny. The balance between ego and self-critique is a fine one—it's what makes 'Ye the hip-hop equivalent of the Black Public Intellectual (present company included).

And no, the flow ain't all that and I ain't personally all that sold on bruh's critique of homophobia in hip-hop (more like a twisted attempt at what Jose Esteban Munoz calls dis-identification). But give the boy credit—some hundred words into this joint, I ain't even talked about the record yet. I think that's what we call charisma and the boy got mounds of it and mounds of talent. Soulful, witty, breezily cerebral and at times just plain ig'nant, but it gets no better than Late Registration.

Arguably more expansive than The College Dropout, Kanye found pop-pleasure in the infectious "Gold Digger" and found material redemption with "Diamonds from Sierra Leone" (replete with a hot verse from J: "I ain't a businessman, I'm a BUSINESS, man…" I was sold with the tear-drop piano of "Heard 'Em Say" (whurl-a-gurls bouncing on each knee as I explain to them why Kanye West matters) and good-lawd what the boy did with Bill Withers and Otis Redding and Curtis Mayfield (damn where'd I put that box-set?). Just another one of the things that we appreciate about the boy; the boy digs crates as an act of love—It's not like anybody was checking for Tom Brock before "Girls, Girls, Girls".

With "Crack Music," 'Ye gets us to the next ish—the Reagan/Black Panther commentary is yet more proof that the boy wasn't just talking smack that Friday night in September. And this is perhaps Kanye West's legacy: ain't been no rapper able to reach the back-packers, the conscious heads, the knuckle-heads on the boulevard and the honeys-around-the-way since 'Pac left this earth. Let's hope the best is still yet to some.

2. It's About Damn Time
Bettye LaVette—I've Got My Own Hell to Raise (Anti, Inc/Epitaph)

Cards on the table, I was oblivious of Bettye LaVette until the good folks over at Bob Davis's Soul Patrol began to champion her a few years ago. It's only when my Princeton homie Daphne Brooks (she of the brilliant Jeff Buckley book) signed off on the brilliance of I've Got My Own Hell to Raise that I even bothered to pick the joint up. And shame on me for that. The reality is that Bettye Lavette has been in the game for quite a long time—her first single "My Man—He's a Loving Man" hit record players in 1962. And like far too many folks than we want to admit, LaVette's singular style—can't imagine Candi Staton and Ann Peebles weren't checking out those early LaVette sides—got lost amongst arbitrary label decisions to shelve her projects. Shame on them. So now we have a comeback (not really though) of Jimmy Scott (or perhaps Terry Callier) proportions. Bettye LaVette is a Soul singer, but you'd be hard pressed to find anything that resembles what one thinks of as a "Soul music" composition on this disc. This nonconformity is the brilliance of I've Got My Own Hell To Raise—it expands the notion of what "Soul music" is supposed to be (Lewis Taylor is doing the same to R&B, but that's for another day). And yet, per our Ms. (Dr.) Brooks, you can't forget the often cross-racial feminist power of the artistic pedestal on which LaVette hoists the genius of Fiona Apple, Lucinda Williams, Rosanne Cash, Aimee Mann, Joan Armatrading (the resident black folkie) and Sinead O'Connor. I can't say no more—I'm fighting back the tears as this woman sings Bobby Cryner's "Just Say So".

3. Where Pharaoh Sanders Meets the Boom-Bap
Dwight Trible and the Life Force Trio—Love is the Answer (Ninjatune)

Thank God for podcasts or at least my man Jason Smith's monthly episode of "Both Sides of the Surface" where I was introduced to "Equipoise" by Dwight Trible and the Life Force Trio. The immediate sensation was something like hearing Pharaoh Sanders and Leon Thomas channeled through some mid-1990s hip-hop beats and I wasn't too far off—Trible has been Sanders's vocalist of choice since the legendary Leon Thomas passed on a few years ago. The lead single "Equipoise" is essentially an extended remix of the version that Trible recorded with Build an Ark (Peace with Every Step) the year before. Featuring production from the likes of Madlib, J-Dilla, and Carlos Nino, some of the highlights on Love is the Answer include the title track, "Freedom Dance" and "The Tenth Jewel," which features X-Clan veteran Brother J.

4. Ode to Back Porch Music
Leela James—A Change is Gonna Come (Warner)

Home-girl publicist Karen Lee first tipped me to Leela James a few years ago. "Grown Voice" I recall saying to myself, this in the months before Anthony Hamilton dropped "Coming from Where I'm from." And indeed, by the time James dropped A Change is Gonna Come, the music industry was perhaps better primed for a return to down-home Soul. Don't mean baby-gurl (and let me be clear, there ain't nothin' girlish about this women's voice) was ever gonna get the spins that Amerie (the oh-so-pretty-one) or even Faith was gonna get. Nevertheless, in my mind Leela James" is the best that mainstream R&B had to offer in 2005. The Kanye produced "Alright" deserved to be the lead single, though "Music" gets at what Ms. Leela is all about. Ultimately A Change is Gonna Come is a fine debut for a vocalist who is well versed in a wide-breadth of R&B styles. The recording's closing suite, which riffs on the themes of change—Sam Cooke's "A Change is Gonna Come," the old-school gospel of "I Know I Been Changed" and "Long Time Coming"—is a fine example of James's ability to work through musical eras. James calls her style of music "back porch Soul" because "it's a style of music that's homegrown, reminiscent of a time where folks sat around on those hot, sticky days on their porches singing and playing the blues." Let's hope we can all reminisce over this Leela James debut for years to come.

5. Thug Soul for Your Mind
Raheem DeVaughn—The Love Experience (Jive)

Raheem DeVaughn is one of those artists that has benefited from the presence of satellite radio. While it's likely that the same kind of paid-spin politics is happening at XM and Sirius, satellite radio for the time being still delivers on its promise to break the monotony. DeVaughn's The Love Experience (Jive) exemplifies this. The album suffers from the ongoing need of artists to use all 80 minutes the compact disc format allows, but once you strip away the filler, what's left is compelling. DeVaughn's vocals are reminiscent of Dwele's, but where the latter's music was overly restrained, DeVaughn is R&B unreconstructed -- messy and ragged. The lead single, "Guess Who Loves You More," with its smart use of Earth, Wind and Fire's "Can't Hide Love," is a fine introduction to DeVaughn but the real gems are the Prince-like "Who" and two political tracks, "Until" and "Catch 22." On the latter track, DeVaughn perfects the symphonic thug soul of Dave Hollister ("Baby Mama Drama") and Blackstreet ("Hustler's Prayer").

6. And the Infidels Did Dance
Meshell Ndegeocello Presents the Spirit Music Jamia—Dance of the Infidels (Shanachie)

Meshell Ndegeocello's music has often been stridently political, though she distances herself from the idea that she was even fit to offer such commentary. This modesty is perhaps fitting for an artist who has viewed herself as more healer than agitator; more mystic than intellectual. It should be no surprise then that on Ndegeocello's latest recording, Dance of the Infidel, she withdraws to the background, allowing the genius of first rate improvisators, such as Kenny Garrett, Oliver Lake, Don Byron, Wallace Roney, and Jack Dejohnette, to work the supple musical landscape that she creates. Highlights include "Al Falaq 113" (a product of her recent conversion to Islam) and the title track. The real gems, though, are the vocal performances of Cassandra Wilson and Lalah Hathaway, particularly the latter's rendition of the standard "When Did You Leave Heaven." Stuck in the shadow of her famous father for much of her career, "Heaven" is the vocal performance where Hathaway comes into her own.

7. BE Real
Common—BE (Geffen)

I understand that claiming that Common is the hip-hop artist most likely to be played in the mini-van with the whurl-a-gurls (now 7 & 3) is not a strong argument for calling BE one of the best releases of the year. In reality, heightened expectations that BE would usher in a new moment for hip-hop were quietly derailed the first listen through Ye's Late Registration. And while Kanye is all over BE, Common is never gonna be as fun and as self absorbed as his Chi-town homie. Anybody who has been traveling with Rashid Lynn all these years knows that he sounded like your forty-something uncle from the beginning. As a newly minted 40-something, I ain't got a problem with that. Let the youngins have all the Young Jeezys and The Games they want—I need some grown folks music and hip-hop don't get anymore grown that Common's BE. For the record, "The Corner,"\ "Love Is…" and "It's Your World (parts 1 & 2)" are the tracks that keep me coming back.

8. The Voice Returns
Jeffrey Osborne—From the Soul (JayOz/Koch)

Jeffrey Osborne is one of the definitive voices of his generation and, amongst the R&B elite of the 1980s, there was no finer vocalist—excepting Sir Luther. Establishing himself initially as the lead vocalist of L.T.D., Osborne perhaps tried to hard at times to follow the path of his fellow funk band lead, Lionel Ritchie. Missteps aside ("can you woo, woo, woo?"), Jeffrey Osborne can sing ANYTHING and has been quietly doing as much over the last few years. Osborne's That's for Sure (2000) is arguably one of the finest recordings in a career that now spans 30 years. The same can be said about From the Soul—Osborne's tribute to the Soul and Pop that he grew up on. Osborne's version of "Yes I'm Ready" is the gem that urban radio will shamelessly ignore—their loss. Our gain are tracks like Osborne's thoughtful remake of Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth" and the over-top-version of Brenda and the Tabulations's "Every Little Bit Hurts." The musical selections on From the Soul are timeless and indeed, Osborne is the timeless voice that can keep them that way.

—December 13, 2005

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