Environment is a bitch. Even the mightiest, most magnificent species can get drop-kicked by their surroundings.
Consider the dinosaurs. Back in the day, they were the playa pimps of the planet, ready to administer a sound beat-down to all challengers. But times changed, and the dinosaurs came down with a nasty case of extinction.
It seemed like the same fate was suffered by two of the most magnificent strains of modern black music: neo-soul and socially conscious hip-hop.
You remember neo-soul. It bootlegged its spirit from the 1970s, one of the most golden periods in R&B music.
Neo-soul was ripe and juicy five or so years ago, when singers like Maxwell and D'Angelo—who whored his impressive abs that infamous music video—sailed to platinum success on a sea of soaked panties. But then D'Angelo got tubby and Maxwell's album tanked, and before you could say "peace out" the public had migrated to the next big thing.
During the late '80s and early '90s, socially conscious hip-hop held down rap music like a strong, patient nurse and injected it with a Message. Public Enemy got set to fight the power and Arrested Development went looking for Tennessee. Inevitably, focus shifted—bling was suddenly in. Dazzled by rocks, music buyers went rollin' on dubs, and soon the Message was little more than a speck in the rear-view mirror.
But don't write those obituaries just yet. Two artists have quietly slipped in to rock the room with a sound that's a welcome blast from the past.
Neo-soul rises like Lazarus thanks to the supple ministrations of a very natural woman by the name of Leela James. On the strength of her debut, A Change Is Gonna Come, Leela's become the undisputed earth mother to this millennium's family of soul-loving sophisticates.
It's easy to see why. Her smoky wail is a force of nature, the unfettered stuff of early, bluesy Tina Turner. And the production on her tunes—which shimmer with lush Hammond organs and guitar licks—is as tasteful and polished as her fan base.
Leela's not as revolutionary as she and her fans think she is. Songwriting is her Achilles heel, and she'd benefit a great deal from sharper lyrics and a few "Brown Sugar"-style hooks. But she's got raw talent and strength of vision on her side, and it'll be interesting to see where she goes next.
Unlike Leela, Common's been in the game for a while now, and it shows. On his new joint, Be, the socially conscious rap virtuoso bellows verse burnished with a sheen only maturity can bring.
The back cover of Common's CD shows him sprawled beneath a portrait of Malcolm X. Thankfully, his rhymes aren't ever as didactic as this image suggests. Common's sociopolitical commentary is always personal, sweetened with wordplay that dances and surprises like a heavyweight champion in the ring.
Will Leela and Common whup the charts the way their predecessors did? Probably not. But with a modest yet fiercely devoted cadre of supporters, they've both clearly carved their niche.
And that's how species survive.
Subscribe to Feed
