REVISITING A SONIC TIME
The genre-crossing Meshell Ndegeocello finds new depths in 1980s and ’90s R&B
Soul singer Meshell Ndegeocello, 49, remembers her childhood in Washington, D.C., as an all-youcan-eat musical smorgasbord.
“I grew up going to see Van Halen one night and Prince the next,” she says.
After getting her start playing bass in local go-go bands, Ndegeocello, a graduate of the Duke Ellington School of the Arts, went on to become a genre-crossing phenom, recording critically acclaimed albums woven through with jazz, blues, funk and other musical threads.
For Ventriloquism, the album she released last month, Ndegeocello did something surprising: She recorded 11 covers, all R&B songs from the 1980s and ’90s. The process led Ndegeocello to find new depths in songs made famous by TLC, Janet Jackson and Prince.
Q Why did you decide to record a covers album?
A I owed my record company a record, but so much was going on — I was scoring a TV show, my father was dying, I had been fired from another TV show. When I would go see my dad, who lived outside of D.C., I’d listen to WPGC, the station that plays all the songs from my teenage years.
Q R&B singles from the ’80s and ’90s can sound pretty dated today.
A I know what you’re saying. When my band and I would listen to them in the studio, to learn them, we’d laugh at the production. It was a period where production overwhelmed songwriting, but when you strip that away, these are really great songs. Like Private Dancer — when you take those words out of that glossy pop production, it’s a pretty dark song. Tender Love is like an insipid love song, but it works — it speaks to your inner romantic. Q TLC’s Waterfalls always felt a little treacly to me. But in your version, the sadness of losing a loved one really comes through.
A We recorded that a few days after my dad died, and the guitar player — his mother and father had just died, too. In that recording, you can feel our emotions on the surface. I mean, a lot of great songs are about confronting the ultimate conundrum, which is the end of your life cycle and of the people you love.
Q Have you talked to any of the people who originally recorded or wrote the songs you covered?
A I’m about to interview David Spradley, who (co-)wrote Atomic Dog. I thought it had been written by (Parliament-Funkadelic keyboard player) Bernie Worrell. When I found out it had been written by a Korean man from Detroit, I was like, “Wow, people need to know about this man, who wrote one of the most incredible songs in the AfricanAmerican catalogue.”
Q What will you do with the interview? A I’m putting out a podcast. I’m thinking of calling it The Woodshed.
The woodshed is where musicians will go practice or kick a drug habit, and it used to be where your parents would take you out and beat you.
So I want to talk about how all those threads go through a musician’s life: getting your ass whooped, kicking a bad habit or really knowing your instrument. I’m going to start by interviewing (Spradley) about those things and hopefully find out more about his life.
Q What has been the woodshed of your musical career?
A Playing in a go-go ( band) really taught me how to interact with the crowd, in terms of tempo and making you feel good. I have a really top-shelf groove because of that.