REVIEW: Meshell Ndegeocello, Bitter (Maverick)
- Jon Steltenpohl
Compromised, abandoned, surrendered, resigned...and bitter.
Up until this point, Meshell Ndegeocello's music has had a fair share of pain, hurt and disillusionment in it. Her unorthodox funk and her ability to draw up complex emotions intertwined in a beautiful mixture that seemed too upbeat to cry to, yet too poignant to dance to. On her latest release, Bitter, the music is much more fitting to the lyrics. Her trademark bass is quiet and reserved, and Ndegeocello is focused entirely on her lyrical world.
Bitter is essentially the perfect title for this album. Too often in the modern world, rage and revenge and posturing are assumed just as quickly as a wrong is committed. But they mask the silent, reflective moments in which there is nothing to do, and no one to lash out at. In a single word -- Bitter -- you encompass a range of emotions, from unrealized desperation to futility. Take this lyric from "Sincerity": "The morning comes he reaches out to feel her warmth / She pulls away/Closes his eyes/He's so ashamed/He's poor in all but truth/But what a fool he is/To wish for wine in her empty kiss."
In Ndegeocello's world, "bitter" is a conflicted state of being where one can not move from the spot they simultaneously desire and despise. She paints portraits of relationships that, even when happy, are still filled with loneliness of another kind.
It's not that Ndegeocello is focused on negativity or pain. Bitter has many tracks about being in love and joy of it all. Her cover of Hendrix's "May This Be Love," with its metaphor of love as a waterfall, is treated gently and tenderly. In a setting outside of this album, it might even be taken as an unequivocal statement of love.
But, on Bitter Ndegeocello is painting a portrait of a relationship. "May This Be Love" is set between the title track and the song of half fulfilled love ("Sincerity"). The title of "May This Be Love" is as much of a question as it is a statement, and as Ndegeocello sings the last lines, it takes on even more uncertainty: "Waterfall don't ever change your ways/Fall with me for a million days / Oh my waterfall." Ndegeocello sings like a woman on the brink of giving up.
Even when she sings of love, she comes into the song compromised. "Soothe my broken heart," she sings in "Loyalty." "Your love is my only saving grace," she claims in "Grace." "Satisfy" includes the same emotion: "Grateful at being in love," she sings, "I hold out my hand and touch heaven/Tear out my grieving heart /But you come and fill it with love."
Musically, the entire mood of Bitter is subdued compared to the bass-fueled funk you might expect from Ndegeocello. Producer Craig Street's work with the likes of k.d. lang and Cassandra Wilson have prepared him well for Ndegeocello's mood, and in a way, Bitter is for Ndegeocello what Ingenue was for lang.
Fans of Wendy & Lisa will note their presence on guitars and keyboards, and the similarity to the duo's self-titled album. The keyboards on "Faithful" are incredible. The rest of the lineup is large and varied, and ranges from avant-garde composer David Torn's "hand-made instruments" to Joe Henry singing a distant, stifled harmony. The music is lush, but in a way, the album is a bit too subdued, a bit too mellow. The resignation in her voice is too entrenched in quiet reflection, and it loses a bit of the edge we've come to expect. If ever an album required a dark, damp day, Bitter is it.
Ndegeocello goes out of her way to do this, and Bitter doesn't suffer for it, not too much. Instead, it sets out to be an artistic statement. It is not, in any regard, a collection of singles. Bitter is the antithesis of upbeat, and the only real problem with Bitter is that your natural instinct to reach for an Ndegeocello album as a groove will be severely challenged. As Ndegeocello states, "I see this album as a testament to [those] who refused to be pigeon-holed by genre. It's for Joan Armatrading, Ritchie Havens, Cree Summers, Tom Wilson, Jimi Hendrix, and anyone who refused to just do booty songs."
Instead, Bitter is a portrait of the bruised heart. A heart which, despite the bruises and bitterness, still holds out hope for love without pessimism or cynicism. It is a painting in a corner of a gallery. Small, sad, lonely...and yet, ultimately beautiful.
