You thought Boyz II Men knew how to work a roman numeral? Get a load of Soul II Soul.
I have a foggy memory of sitting at home on a typical 1989 afternoon, catching a particular video on television, and thinking to myself, "You know, these black musicians currently dancing on my TV screen are not dancing like the typical black musicians I usually see dancing on my TV screen. Who are these particular black musicians, and where did they come from?" One day I received the answer, and explanation, I was looking for:
Britain. They came from Great Britain.
This ... explained ... everything.
Now, I could be entirely mistaken, but I have the feeling that the African-American experience is slightly different from the, uh ... African-British (I doubt that's the term?) experience. Maybe it's the accents. Maybe it's the fish and chips. Maybe it's the superior educational system. But even at nine years of age, I could sense that Soul II Soul were not cut from the usual American R&B mold that I was familiar with. They looked like the bohemian, cafe-dwelling, poetry-reading, jazz and Earth, Wind & Fire-listening kind of black. They looked like they celebrated Kwanzaa, quoted Langston Hughes and James Baldwin to each other, and had posters of Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu in their bedrooms. Just look at their song titles. You didn't usually see tracks called "African Dance" or "Jazzie's Groove" on Bobby Brown albums, is what I'm saying.
Like most of my countrymen, until I got my hands on Soul II Soul's debut album, Club Classics Vol. One (Retitled Keep On Movin' in the US, presumably because the label assumed American consumers would have been too stupid to realize it was not, in fact, a compilation), I had only ever heard two Soul II Soul songs: "Keep On Movin'" and "Back To Life (However Do You Want Me)". These two singles - breezy, elegant, suave, and almost melancholy, but possessing just enough muscle to stand out from the usual Quite Storm fare - were sung by Caron Wheeler. Hence, I concluded - erroneously, but not without company I imagine - that Caron Wheeler (not to be confused with the Sundays' equally enchanting Harriet Wheeler) was the "lead singer" of a mainly song-oriented group named Soul II Soul. My conclusion, though understandable, was WRONG, TOTALLY WRONG.
It turns out that Soul II Soul were more of a dance/electronica/DJ-oriented collective that didn't really focus on recording proper "songs" with verses and choruses per se, or even lyrics. Soul II Soul, God bless them, cast those oh so American musical boundaries aside. Wikipedia lists their genre as "soul/neo soul/dance/R&B/rap/British soul/reggae," but I feel like "neo soul" would have just about covered it (in a way, they were knocking on the door of trip-hop). Some of the tracks on Club Classics Vol. One feature lead singers other than Wheeler, some feature light rapping, and others are flat-out instrumentals. What I'm trying to say is that, if you're wondering why a group that released two excellent hit singles didn't release more of those excellent singles, it's probably because the listening public heard Soul II Soul's other songs that didn't have Caron Wheeler's voice on them and thought, "Wait a minute, this is Soul II Soul? But where's the lead singer?" See guys? You thought you could be all "utopian" and "collectivist" and "boundary-free," but let me tell you something: it doesn't help the brand. Even the Alan Parsons Project, for crying out loud, eventually caved on the lead singer question. But Soul II Soul refused to sell their soul. To paraphrase Graham Nash, "Was the money you didn't make worth the price that you didn't pay?"
But wait, there's more! Not only did Caron Wheeler sing nothing else on the album aside from the singles, but the version of "Back to Life" that appears on the album isn't even the hit version, but rather a radically different, virtually a capella mix. It's like that time in college I was perusing my friend's CD collection, grabbed 2Pac's All Eyez On Me from the rack, and said, "Yeah! Put on 'California Love'!" only to watch him grimace and explain, "Uh ... the version on the album is just this weird remix, it's not the version you actually want to hear." Buzz kill. Oh the problems music consumers used to have that we simply don't have anymore.
So, Soul II Soul's videos. At the time, they might have seemed like a glimpse into R&B's future, but in retrospect they're more like a glimpse into Cornel West's wet dream of R&B's future. So many dreads, so many weaves, so many beads, so many dashikis, so many multi-colored 'do rags ... it's like Maya Angelou on acid. And when was the last time you saw violinists in an R&B video? I almost wished these two videos could just ... keep on moving and not stop. Instead, the moment they end, I find myself coming back to life, back to reality - and, honestly, compared to a Soul II Soul video, my reality is pretty bland. Favorite YouTube comments:
As a kid I swore she said "yellow is the color of some rain". I thought she was saying that sometimes life pisses on you 😂!
Yellow is the color of some race. I used to think that's what she was singing. lol
the summer of '89, i remember brothas bumpin this in their Ford Escorts. the sound systems were more expensive than the car.
This song reminds me of a funny incident that happened back in 1990 when this song was popular and on the radio. I was a sophomore in high school and our class was waiting outside for our teacher. But then we were informed that our teacher was out sick and to wait outside for the substitute. So we were wondering who our sub was going to be and this old lady was walking toward the classroom. Then I guess one of my fellow classmates was hoping the old lady wasn't going to be our sub. As the old lady was coming to open the door, the guy started singing "Keep On Movin, Keep On Movin Don't Stop, No." Man, we just started busting out laughing.
No comments:
Post a Comment