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Mystery Black Boy John Legend shows the way to grace
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Mystery Black BoyJohn Legend shows the way to graceby Kandia Crazy HorseSome would say the notion that a song could be your life is one best left to childhood fancy and rockcrit hyperbole. Yet here, on the eve of the winter of my discontent, there is such a composition that has penetrated my defenses: John Legend's "Show Me." The magnificent standout from Legend's second Sony release, “Once Again,” "Show Me" not only sounds like the late Jeff Buckley and Jimi Hendrix at play up from the skies (and thus vitally precious to my soul), but it may just be Legend's finest expression to date. Among cherished rockcrit parlor games are the rush to anoint an artist and playing spot the influence. If I can be accused of the latter, it should be forgiven in the case of “Once Again” wherein Legend actively samples the Four Tops, evokes the mid-1960s bossa nova vogue on a pair of songs centering on the titular "Maxine," and — unconsciously or not — summons Sam Cooke and the Iceman-era Impressions to the same blue-light basement party on the sultry "Slow Dance." Indeed, a cursory first rotation of the disc triggered the thought: "Someone's been listening to a lot of Todd Rundgren;" only subsequently did I learn that Legend had cited "Hello, It's Me" as his favorite song in a Gap advert. The sonic case for Legend's deep adherence to a late ’60s/early ’70s AM pop aesthetic is made plain from the git-go through “Once Again”'s opener and "Stormy"-sampling hit single "Save Room" (a heartening, rockin' sign that producer will.i.am hasn't completely taken leave of his senses in thrall to Fergie's Londonlondonlondon). Musician friends of mine have, at various times and in different ways, tried to denounce genre boundaries by proclaiming, "Music is music. It's either good or bad." Be that as it may — and certainly anyone who follows this space regularly knows these ears range wide — the world is not there yet. While music criticism is guilty as a deus ex machina ordering sound and subcultures via taxonomy and establishing arbitrary hierarchies, the average listener independently brings value judgments to bear on how they perceive and consume music. With an artist of Legend's provenance — Midwestern church upbringing, intersection with the Philly neo-soul elite as a Penn undergrad, a sonic CV featuring L-Boogie, Jigga, Common and Mary J., and, above all, his status as Kanye West protégé — it's disingenuous to ignore the ways in which black music traditions and an early so-called urban audience has shaped his career. These very factors are currently impacting the reception of “Once Again,” an uneven but great effort that is a quantum leap forward from the Grammy-winning “Get Lifted” as a work of art. Even if the decline of the majors and radio has signaled the impossibility of monoculture in the 21st century, some local Charlotte listeners on the black hand side, most avowed fans of “Get Lifted” and primed for Legend's upcoming December 1 concert at Amos' SouthEnd, have expressed lukewarm appreciation for the new CD because they claim it eschews the debut's more hip-hop-oriented sound and seems an obvious bid for crossover status. Only groupie lament "Stereo" and the West-produced "Heaven" overtly heed hip-hop soul convention — the rest of “Once Again” sees Legend striving through the mostly mid-tempo compositions to keep pace with accelerating sounds in his head. Meanwhile, Stereogum has taken umbrage at Legend's Buckley tribute — the artist explicitly told Rolling Stone that this was his aim — couching its prejudices in the arch hipster argot of the Blogosphere. But I hear Legend's simulation and echo of Buckley's soaring croon on "Show Me" as a heartening sign of potential for moribund pop as a whole, not just the neo-soul plantation Stereogum's invested in. If his G.O.O.D. label head West can famously collaborate with hip L.A. producer Jon Brion (Fiona Apple), why shouldn't Legend expand his sonic horizons without censure? And speaking of prejudices, it's time to confess my own where Legend is concerned. I've never denounced him as "the male Alicia Keys"; however, after a few years in this profession, one becomes inured to incessant hype and that surrounding "Ordinary People" last year was almost beyond bearing. To be sure, it's not Legend's fault that a plainfolks piano ballad should be overburdened with such fervent kudos. Yet a music writer's desk is bombarded with scores of talented comers, many of whom will never get the exposure they deserve since they lack West's current Midas touch — what makes a self-anointed Legend more significant than those who will toil in obscurity or the indie ghetto? More to the point, I was bred in an era and environment when a song well sung was the standard (a given extended even to the dance floor: Sylvester, Donna Summer et al.), and young artists expected to apply and apprentice themselves before the laurels were flung. Hopes were not so diminished that the industry and audience could be rendered weak at the mere sight of a young man capable of writing a simple song and playing piano instead of going multi-platinum due to how many times he'd been shot. And Legend's professions to the press of admiration for my Chocolate City homeboy Marvin Gaye as a career model only gave me foreboding. Regarding Legend, the turning point for me was his solicitation of my dear friend, record producer Craig Street, as a collaborator on “Once Again.” Street co-produced "Again" and "Where Did My Baby Go," as well as augmenting Raphael Saadiq's work on the stunning "Show Me." At Manhattan's Right Track studios this past summer, I had the honor of witnessing them at work on the charmingly risqué "P.D.A. (We Just Don't Care)" with its infectious Shalamar handclaps, and being mesmerized by Italian composer Daniele Luppi conducting the string section for "Show Me." If Legend's true self remains hidden in plain sight, at least I do know courtesy of his association with Craig that he is serious and his aesthetic is maturing in a strong direction, that he wants to work hard on the quality of his songs and add something indelible beyond the market to give his music a chance at endurance. Craig, noted for his past work with artists as different on surface as Cassandra Wilson and Charlie Sexton, is himself unafraid of a radical realm of the senses — as well as very creative and talented. He's the sort of music man of whom it used to be said, "He has ears," and has been a great influence on me and how I hear. So Craig's enthusiasm for working with Legend got my attention, per his comments from his Manhattan home: "I think one of the great things about John is that he doesn't have any limitations. I think without question he's probably one of the most talented younger singer-songwriter-performers out there at this point in time ... There's other people that are good and interesting in pop music, but he's definitely one of the most talented. I mean, if I were to look at the pop world right now, it'd be him and Feist and Jack White and a handful of others that actually know how to write songs and know how to play their instruments and know how to sing. And, just by the fact that they can do those three, are light years ahead of everybody else. "[John] listens to everything. His influences are all over the place. He can write a classically structured, great song that sounds new; it doesn't sound dated. If he decides he's going to wear an influence on his sleeve, it still sounds modern. I think his wordplay is what separates him from a lot of folks. ... He's really not constrained by anything that the public or critics or record companies or anyone else puts on him. He probably could've done 'Ordinary People, Part Two' and he chose not to. He really steps out on a limb with this one. There's things that sound like they could have been on ‘Get Lifted,’ and there's others that're completely different. He's absolutely fearless when it comes to exploration, which is probably one of the signs of a really great artist — when the need to explore and try things is greater than the need to simply stay where the success has been." Although he and I disagree about the voice of "Coming Home" (and I might have tweaked the disc's sequencing), the end result is a complete work unafraid to take the many shades and vicissitudes of romance as its central theme. Without prematurely forecasting, “Once Again”'s power is evident. When artists find it easier to (belatedly) drop anti-Bush rants than sing about love in all its complexity, “Once Again” is definitely Legend's gauntlet cast at apathy and mediocrity. And "Show Me" has elevated Legend above the fray, moved me beyond thought. In my opinion, the late Jeff Buckley, aka the Mystery White Boy, was the greatest, bravest soul singer of the past 15 years — and truly one of the minute cadre of artists that gave my generation any claims to glory at all. Early spins of “Once Again” had already caused me to jokingly refer to Legend as "sepia Rufus" in reference to the disc's arrangements (especially the exquisite, string-laden Street songs and another favorite, the hothouse lush "Maxine's Interlude"), similar to Rufus Wainwright's in confounding the narrow purview of pop. Wainwright is also an avowed Buckley heir, and the finest piano man preceding Legend to have expanded song craft and pop's lyrical vocabulary in the recent digital age. Personally and as a music fanatic, I remain disconsolate over the loss of Jeff Buckley; as a critic, I am pained and baffled by my colleagues' generally poor reception of Wainwright. And so I had resisted writing this story; this is my saison en enfer, and I cannot carry the burden of caring about artists of John Legend's caliber. I know my late Mother would have loved "Slow Dance," if not all of “Once Again”; I can envision her bouncing around her flat, pestering me, "Who's that boy? That's my song!" — dancing a fearlessly sensual, funky drag from her youth in West Philly, where Legend honed his skills. Four days after she died, listening to "Show Me's" spectral strings in the studio, I was haunted and moved to tears. I do not want to feel nor be reminded of why music is my Great Mystery, and yet there it is: "Show Me," ghost notes speaking volumes, refuses to diminish its glory. In performance, Legend delights in sonic dialogue with Buckley's spirit, bravely lifting his voice as the guitar emotes and rises with him intimately, and I, who don't believe in God but my Ancestors, can hear them aloft where my Mother has joined them, cloud splitting over Legend's divine accomplishment. I may'nt want to, but still ken carnal and spiritual meaning when he sings: "Show me that you love me / Show me that you walk with me / Hopefully, just above me / Heaven's watching over me..." It is ethereal beauty, it is truth for the floating world I am adrift in and, yes, it's my song. John Legend makes his sole Carolinas appearance at Amos' SouthEnd, with special guest Robin Thicke; Dec. 1; 8 p.m.; $32.50 adv., $35 d.o.s.; the show is sold out but see thesoulmovement.com for details. #
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