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Robert Crumb · 08-29-2005, 07:34 PM

IV. Where Do We Go Now... or; The Section of the Story Where Our Author Condenses Some Thirty Years of Music into a Couple Compact Pages...

Perhaps the greatest trick soul music ever pulled off was transforming the cliche into something tangibly new. I guess if you’ve got to this point, you might have realized that a lot of soul music, in someways, is very one dimensional. Bob Dylan called Smokey Robinson the greatest American poet of his time not because he was a grand deacon of ideas. No, it was because he could turn classic topical banality (example: a trite love song) into success because he was a master of technical poetic skill. Meter, rhythm and the sort. He didn’t write anything new, per se, yet he wrote nothing new so damn well that it’s simply enjoyable.

That might strike one as an underhanded compliment, but it’s not. The ability to turn shit into gold is an underappreciated talent, one of utmost importance to a pop musician. One that’s probably a bit lacking now-a-days.

Anyways, my point is that you can only go on for so long, milking the same cow. The tit goes dry, you know? During the seventies, soul fostered a wildly unique creative atmosphere which continued, even as the popularity of funk spawned disco and the two eclipsed soul to some degree. The soul album was perfected by a multitude of artists and the writing duo of Kenneth Gamble and Leon Huff made Philly soul a force to be reckoned with.

But then something kinda interesting happened; Smokey Robinson released Quiet Storm, an album of introspective love songs, “grown folks music,” if you will. Now, Quiet Storm is an good album. But the last thing the world needed was a hundred Quiet Storms, which is what it got when the album spawned it’s namesake genre.

Quiet storm became yet another sub-genre of soul, which hung around throughout the 70's and 80's. It did fill a void, perhaps the only niche left for soul to fill in the wake of funk, disco, and very soon, hip hop. After all, someone had to make love songs, right? Funk and disco got you on the dance floor, disco held the pop charts, quiet storm picked up the scraps.

Don’t get me wrong; it would be incredibly unfair to completely write off the 80's. Smooth soul proponents like Barry White and Luther Vandross might not be the most exciting or unique characters in the history of soul but they did what they did damn effectively. But very few could match their aplomb as they tackled romance and bed sheets.

Folks gave disco soul a shot, but that generally didn’t work out too well (see: Fire on Ice by Terry Callier.) Then again, some could take the slick bounciness of disco and infuse it with enough grace to make it work (see: the remake of “Ordinary Joe” by Terry Callier, also released in 1979.) The pop-soul of Michael Jackson was very much informed by disco but the funk remained light, suited to Jackson’s progression from child-star to adult.

In reality, the only truly unique vision came from Prince, who bent the line between the major forces of 80's pop music: new wave, hair metal, early hip hop and soul.

Armed with a wicked falsetto and an aroused imagination, Prince wove tales of sexual triumph with metaphors so thin, if you pulled them back, you’d probably get a peep show. But more than just a horny freak, Prince was also a gifted songwriter. He was easily the most original of any soul artist to come of age in the 80's, that’s for sure. By the time he was in his late twenties, he proved himself a master of folk, funk, pop, soul, psychedelia, electro-beats, and epic ballads. And he was ape-shit nuts. Beat that.

But mostly, 80's soul stuck close to tried and true formulas. Even as the music embraced change, like Terry Riley’s new jack swing, the ideas were roughly the same. New jack swing finally reignited the old musical courtship, this time a flame between soul and hip hop. The output had the hard-hitting break beats of hip hop production spliced with the genome of 80's smooth soul vocal.

Just about ever modern soul hit-maker from Bobby Brown to Janet Jackson (and Michael) embraced new jack swing. Riley’s first band, Guy, ended up a precursor to more popular artists like Boyz II Men, TLC, and Mary J. Blige, who, along with a whole generation of other artists, created an amalgam of raps and urban soul.

If you think like me, the thought process would probably go something like, “Gee, I like rap. I also like soul. Therefore, if rap and soul got together, I’d like the end result. Right?”

Problem is, new jack swing blows. Although the combination was a natural progression (that got better with time) the very few artists who did anything with it were the exception, not the rule. Boyz II Men might be the biggest R&B group of all time but that doesn’t mean that more than half of their songs aren’t the same smooth soul wank that the 80's produced in droves. Just my opinion.

But like I said, it got better with time. In the middle of the decade, things really started to pick up with albums like TLC’s CrazySexyCool, The Fugees’ Score and Brown Sugar by D’Angelo. Individual artists struggled out identities, personas that tried to properly integrate a hip hop street-wise sensibility with the sound of laid-back soul. Neo-soul had arrived, a sub-genre that looked backwards as much as it looked at present-day trends. Ex-Fugee Lauryn Hill might be a poster child for the style, even though she’s only released one proper solo album to date (although another is soon to come, albeit some seven years after the first.) The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill was not only a pop success, but it made inroads for soul to return to the depth of thought it had achieved in the 70's.

So that kinda takes us up today. Soul continues to push forward, showing no signs of the aforementioned state of disrepair, although it has come quite close in years past. Even scowling rappers bow down to the unbridled sexual spirituality of soul; singers like Erykah Badu and Cee-Lo Green are almost as ubiquitous on hip hop albums as James Brown samples are. The MC/singer, while not a new phrase to the lexicon of soul, is definitely an interesting aspect. Phonte of Little Brother knows how to belt out a tune, and though somewhat shaky as a vocalist, Andre 3000 made a huge splash as a songwriter.

Permutation after permutation, soul remains a vital source of talent and music. So if you don’t know, now you know.

08-29-2005, 07:34 PM	#5
Robert Crumb yeah baby shine that lamp Join Date: Jun 2004 Location: shine that lamp on this sad, sad man Posts: 4,345	IV. Where Do We Go Now... or; The Section of the Story Where Our Author Condenses Some Thirty Years of Music into a Couple Compact Pages... Perhaps the greatest trick soul music ever pulled off was transforming the cliche into something tangibly new. I guess if you’ve got to this point, you might have realized that a lot of soul music, in someways, is very one dimensional. Bob Dylan called Smokey Robinson the greatest American poet of his time not because he was a grand deacon of ideas. No, it was because he could turn classic topical banality (example: a trite love song) into success because he was a master of technical poetic skill. Meter, rhythm and the sort. He didn’t write anything new, per se, yet he wrote nothing new so damn well that it’s simply enjoyable. That might strike one as an underhanded compliment, but it’s not. The ability to turn shit into gold is an underappreciated talent, one of utmost importance to a pop musician. One that’s probably a bit lacking now-a-days. Anyways, my point is that you can only go on for so long, milking the same cow. The tit goes dry, you know? During the seventies, soul fostered a wildly unique creative atmosphere which continued, even as the popularity of funk spawned disco and the two eclipsed soul to some degree. The soul album was perfected by a multitude of artists and the writing duo of Kenneth Gamble and Leon Huff made Philly soul a force to be reckoned with. But then something kinda interesting happened; Smokey Robinson released Quiet Storm, an album of introspective love songs, “grown folks music,” if you will. Now, Quiet Storm is an good album. But the last thing the world needed was a hundred Quiet Storms, which is what it got when the album spawned it’s namesake genre. Quiet storm became yet another sub-genre of soul, which hung around throughout the 70's and 80's. It did fill a void, perhaps the only niche left for soul to fill in the wake of funk, disco, and very soon, hip hop. After all, someone had to make love songs, right? Funk and disco got you on the dance floor, disco held the pop charts, quiet storm picked up the scraps. Don’t get me wrong; it would be incredibly unfair to completely write off the 80's. Smooth soul proponents like Barry White and Luther Vandross might not be the most exciting or unique characters in the history of soul but they did what they did damn effectively. But very few could match their aplomb as they tackled romance and bed sheets. Folks gave disco soul a shot, but that generally didn’t work out too well (see: Fire on Ice by Terry Callier.) Then again, some could take the slick bounciness of disco and infuse it with enough grace to make it work (see: the remake of “Ordinary Joe” by Terry Callier, also released in 1979.) The pop-soul of Michael Jackson was very much informed by disco but the funk remained light, suited to Jackson’s progression from child-star to adult. In reality, the only truly unique vision came from Prince, who bent the line between the major forces of 80's pop music: new wave, hair metal, early hip hop and soul. Armed with a wicked falsetto and an aroused imagination, Prince wove tales of sexual triumph with metaphors so thin, if you pulled them back, you’d probably get a peep show. But more than just a horny freak, Prince was also a gifted songwriter. He was easily the most original of any soul artist to come of age in the 80's, that’s for sure. By the time he was in his late twenties, he proved himself a master of folk, funk, pop, soul, psychedelia, electro-beats, and epic ballads. And he was ape-shit nuts. Beat that. But mostly, 80's soul stuck close to tried and true formulas. Even as the music embraced change, like Terry Riley’s new jack swing, the ideas were roughly the same. New jack swing finally reignited the old musical courtship, this time a flame between soul and hip hop. The output had the hard-hitting break beats of hip hop production spliced with the genome of 80's smooth soul vocal. Just about ever modern soul hit-maker from Bobby Brown to Janet Jackson (and Michael) embraced new jack swing. Riley’s first band, Guy, ended up a precursor to more popular artists like Boyz II Men, TLC, and Mary J. Blige, who, along with a whole generation of other artists, created an amalgam of raps and urban soul. If you think like me, the thought process would probably go something like, “Gee, I like rap. I also like soul. Therefore, if rap and soul got together, I’d like the end result. Right?” Problem is, new jack swing blows. Although the combination was a natural progression (that got better with time) the very few artists who did anything with it were the exception, not the rule. Boyz II Men might be the biggest R&B group of all time but that doesn’t mean that more than half of their songs aren’t the same smooth soul wank that the 80's produced in droves. Just my opinion. But like I said, it got better with time. In the middle of the decade, things really started to pick up with albums like TLC’s CrazySexyCool, The Fugees’ Score and Brown Sugar by D’Angelo. Individual artists struggled out identities, personas that tried to properly integrate a hip hop street-wise sensibility with the sound of laid-back soul. Neo-soul had arrived, a sub-genre that looked backwards as much as it looked at present-day trends. Ex-Fugee Lauryn Hill might be a poster child for the style, even though she’s only released one proper solo album to date (although another is soon to come, albeit some seven years after the first.) The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill was not only a pop success, but it made inroads for soul to return to the depth of thought it had achieved in the 70's. So that kinda takes us up today. Soul continues to push forward, showing no signs of the aforementioned state of disrepair, although it has come quite close in years past. Even scowling rappers bow down to the unbridled sexual spirituality of soul; singers like Erykah Badu and Cee-Lo Green are almost as ubiquitous on hip hop albums as James Brown samples are. The MC/singer, while not a new phrase to the lexicon of soul, is definitely an interesting aspect. Phonte of Little Brother knows how to belt out a tune, and though somewhat shaky as a vocalist, Andre 3000 made a huge splash as a songwriter. Permutation after permutation, soul remains a vital source of talent and music. So if you don’t know, now you know. Last edited by Robert Crumb; 08-29-2005 at 10:40 PM.