It is rare when artists capture the spirit of the nation’s urban pulse, but it has happened as urbanites have grown with the times: Chuck Berry’s free-wheeling guitar licks and easy-rolling rhythms embodying the rock-n-roll generation’s hope and youth on the cusp of change; Marvin Gaye’s pleading masterpieces “What’s Going On” and “Let’s Get It On” encapsulating the socio-political undercurrent of the post-civil rights movement era and the sultry intimacy of the urban lover, respectively; Public Enemy’s work in the 80s perfectly translating the juxtaposition of the under-served urban populace’s angst and anger against the high-gloss materialism of the decade of decadence.
Since then, nothing has come closer to mirroring the reality of urbanity than Erykah Badu’s work.
From her debut, “Baduizm” to her latest release “New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh),” Badu’s releases have tapped into both what is refreshingly right and woefully wrong with the urban world.
First, the right.
Her idiosyncratic lyrical work and casually expressive vocals have shown what it means to be urban in the 90’s and the new millennium: We are cool. We are confident. We are more educated and our thoughts more expansive than it may seem. We fly free in the face of conventionalism. We strive to honor our roots while gazing into what is to come. And we love to love, whether the object of our affection is ourselves, our planet, our seed or our culture.
These realities expressed are refreshing and enlightening, and even more so when we see how her work, consciously or not, magnifies what is wrong with us.
We are cliquish.
Excluding her debut, where Badu was, we assume, still at the mercy of her label, nearly every album has been produced by the same coterie. Yes, this has established an overall consistency, but it has also stunted the possibilities of Badu’s immense talent, not to mention the opportunity for the world to breathe in the fresh voice of as-yet undiscovered producers, of which there are plenty.
Upon closer examination, this fault enhances another blight: we are not encouraging musical development among our urban youth.
Badu’s lyricism and vocal expression are truly unique, especially when we think of them as extensions of her artistic core. But seems to be that Badu’s lack of musicality from an instrumentalist’s perspective is what causes her to lean heavily on her producers, thus perpetuating the above-mentioned cliquish mentality.
Simply put, if she could actually play an instrument – and we’re talking about more than shaking a mean cabasa – imagine how far her talent could go. How much more she could express. How much more revolutionary she could be.
That self-imposed limitation is also what’s killing the creative potential of our urban youth.
Right now, though, Badu’s spirit will keep her art going for a little while longer, one way or another, as will the urban community’s. However, I feel that, sadly, her potential, the phoenix within, will never be truly unleashed without the next step. And without that next step, her longevity or even her creative existence itself might be threatened.
