Text by by Dawoud Kringle

Last night (as if this writing, on November 17th, 2011), I attended a performance by Meshell Ndegeocello at Highline Ballroom in New York City. If memory serves me, this is the fifth time I have heard her live. The group played mostly music from her newest release Weather. Meshell almost never plays her old catalog. The night’s exception was when she offered a ballad – like reworking of her classic “Shooting Up and Getting High.”

Much of her new music concentrates on short pieces; an extension of what she began with “Devil’s Halo.” Her use of unusual time signatures was quite noticeable. Many songs were in 6/8. One was in 13/8 (or at least the verses were). Yet the effect never seemed to interfere with the ever present groove.

How does one groove to 13/8? Relax; Meshell will show you.

I bought Meshell’s first release Plantation Lullabies when it was first released. I don’t remember what prompted me to do so, but after the first listen, all I could say was “Damn!” I still say “Damn!” when I think about it. In the realm of funk / neo-soul, nobody can touch Meshell. Nobody.

This In-Your-Face-Booty-Smacking Funk continued (in a way,,,) with her next release Peace Beyond Passion.

The CDs that followed were all different; yet held true to the above description. 1999’s Bitter was a major departure; and took many of her hard-core fans by surprise. It was an emotionally dense catharsis of failed love. Some people were disappointed because she moved away from what her previous releases led them to believe her music was (and could only be). Undaunted, Meshell, forged ahead.

After Cookie: the Anthropological Mixtape and Comfort Woman, her CD Dance of the Infidels (a tip of the hat to Bud Powell) took a greater departure from the general territory (and I do mean general) she’d treaded in the past. This was a jazz project – or something resembling jazz. Yet she hid herself in the shadows and let others take center stage. It was almost as if she held the role of enabler; an almost maternal figure wherein her own presence was downplayed in favor of bringing out the voices of the other musicians. Or perhaps she simply didn’t wish to stand in the spotlight.

Her next release, The World Has Made Me The Man of My Dreams, holds this quality. But here she steps back into the forefront. And like all her musical works, she is painfully honest. Some of the tracks show a balance between contrasting elements. For example, “The Sloganeer” is a punkish angry song about those who abuse religious teachings for political purposes; yet there is an unmistakable undercurrent of sadness in the song. As if her anger was inspired by a desire to persuade rather than condemn. It reminds me of the Qur’an (Meshell is a Muslim) in that English translations often sound angry and severe; while the tone of the original Arabic is sad and compassionate.

Devil’s Halo was another departure which is exactly what one expects from Meshell. The songs were short, the hard funk was understated, or left behind entirely. Each song was less a collection of music than pages in a diary. Weather continues in this vein; yet it’s not merely “Halo Part Two.” The songs are as changeable and unpredictable as life itself. Weather also featured two covers: Leonard Cohen’s “Chelsea Hotel”, and “Don’t Take My Kindness for Weakness” by Soul Children. This, and the fact that she brought in a producer (Joe Henry) shows another wave in the ocean she navigates; more changes, more evolving toward an indefinable and unreachable goal.

As I listened in the standing-room-only crowd, I realized that the one thing that over the years and many musical changes that Meshell has gone through that remains absolutely consistent is her stage presence. She does not work a crowd by using the usual show business gimmicks to get a response. Her audiences respond to her honesty and sincerity. When she plays, you are in the presence of a friend. Her soft spoken banter resembles more than anything the intimate, and often humorous dialogue one has while curled up on a couch with a lover. There is a shyness there; an undercurrent of self depreciation that makes you want to hug her and tell her that everything is OK. Yet at the same time, you know you’re in for a fight if you take too much of a liberty with her.

This is Meshell’s charm. This is her vibe. This is who she really is.

Beyond her talent, brilliant musicianship, and immense reservoir of inspiration, what really sets her apart and is probably the subtle undercurrent of what makes her so special is her sincerity. Meshell’s music is nothing if not autobiographical. Most artists hide behind their music; Meshell reveals herself. There is nothing in her music that is not her. One listen, and you know who and what she is. Her inner heart is thrown into raw sharp relief. The intimacy one experiences listening to her is painful, and impossible not to experience empathetically. It makes you fall in love with her at the same time – and ready to forgive anything incomprehensible, mercurial, or infuriating that she may say or do.