| The Outside World |

Monday, September 27, 2004

On Music: Jill Scott is Golden
MUSIC COLUMN by Aamir Bermiss

When I was put on to the dopeness that is Jill Scott (about three years ago now) I was but a young man struggling to make sense of life away from Brooklyn, NY. I was fully aware of how dope she was then but I think that Jill Scott is something one can appreciate more as maturity starts to set in. A very, very long three years later, (and at least one too-hot-to-handle live album double disc from Jill and her band, Fatback Taffy) I think I can finally understand where my girl Jill is coming from.

Her new album, Beautifully Human: Words and Sounds 2, is not some trifle R&B or neo-soul album. After taking some time off to grow into her own maturity, the Jill Scott that dropped an album at the end of the summer is a singer/songwriter of the highest order. I feel like, as a music writer, I am obligated to say things like "the highest order" every now and again but rarely do I really get to mean it.

To start, Jill Scott has a voice like some seasoned veteran singer out of a film noire. Her voice flawlessly contorts back and forth between whispering and belting with distinct confidence. Sometimes it can seem like her voice is like fragile glass-so close to breaking. She will sing with a smooth, graininess that most singers don't obtain until well into their golden years (an aside: Anthony Hamilton, who sounds like a gin-soaked blues hobo-nightmare, is the extreme exception to that trend). Other times, Jill brings the tenacity of something from the Aretha Franklin/Patti LaBelle book of singing (referred to, in the musicians' circles as: sangin'). "Bedda at Home", off the new album, is perfect example the range of her vocal control. A song that starts off with that tenuous voice that seems too weak to hold any emotion other than sappy love-song comes knifing through the din of a relentless break-beat. As the song progresses, however, her voice becomes more solid and strong. By the time the third verse comes around the break-beat that once threatened to over-power Jill is on the verge of being obsolete. On a track like "Talk to Me" Jill start out singing in her standard frank, conversational tone but the track concludes with swinging big-band arrangement over which Jill is completely at home.

Yet, to respect Jill's skill we needn't dwell in the superlative (a dangerous pastime for many art journalists these days); even on understated songs, her treatment of the melody is very personal. Jill is one who could, as the old axiom suggests, sing the phonebook and contrive something fantastically musical out of it.

Secondly, and perhaps more prevalently, there is the issue of lyrics. As I write this I am shaking my head and frowning at having to describe what makes Jill Scott such a superb lyricist. For a real understanding of this, I strongly suggest finding her albums (by any means necessary) and trying to get past the phenomenal singing (impossible as that may seem) and just listening to the lyrics. Most songwriters will probably admit that without the music supporting them their lyrics sound preposterous aloud. Scott's lyrics are the kind of words that could only be enhanced by being written out and experienced as pure poetry. I can think of very few artists in the last century to whom I would grant similar acknowledgement of skill (another aside: Biggie Smalls is my favorite example of this. Even his most commercial rhymes are worth the long consideration one might give a great bard-check out "Suicidal Thoughts" on Ready To Die). I challenge anyone to come up with a better explanation of the crazy feeling love of "Not Like Crazy" or to find a song that surpasses in potency the invigorating poetry of "I Am Not Afraid".

My advice to you, dear reader: Buy This Album. It may take a few years for it to really grow on you, but when it does the pay off will huge. To conclude, dear reader, I will not attempt to hold back any more (the mere thought of Jill Scott makes me wax poetic-I cannot help myself): I am no longer so young a man as I once was and, while I still search for Brooklyn constantly (physically and metaphysically indeed), with Jill Scott making music… life is beginning to make sense.