SiNCE her soulful debut 14 years ago, Me’shell
Ndegéocello’s music has conveyed want. Lust and lack have
underpinned the singer/songwriter’s output, which has covered the
waterfront of style and sentiment and shone light on its coves. Just
recall her nimble cover of Bill Wither’s “Who Is He and What Is He to
You,” a funk-laden, same-sex interpretation that stood out but didn’t
call attention to itself. Gimmickry is not Ndegéocello’s game,
candor is. And with the release of her seventh studio album, The
World Has Made Me the Man of My Dreams, Ndegéocello upends
again in unassuming fashion.
“I was told to wait for the man of my dreams,” explains
Ndegéocello via email the day before her New York record release
party. “I waited and he didn’t come, so I had to become him.”
Ndegéocello’s career suggests that becoming the man of her
dreams has less do with suitors than druthers. She has persistently lit
out for new sounds, looked inward for new ideas, and bandied licks with
an impressive sampling of contemporary greats to improve her
musicianship. What remains constant are the themes running through her
body of work. As Ndegéocello tells it, “My life is still plagued
and blessed by the same shit as ever: guilt, discipline, living,
loving, and believing.” But having abbreviated her lyrics and gone
opaque, the confessionals and cultural commentary are less
intelligible. Mood reigns. Ndegéocello, as she sees it,
positioned herself to “untangle it.”
Motley in contributors and content, The World Has Made Me the Man
of My Dreams rollicks with sonic diversity. Primed by the jazz
explorations of her last release, The Spirit Music Jamia: Dance of
the Infidel, to “make structure out of the abstract and abstract
out of the structure,” Ndegéocello streamlined her increasingly
opaque lyrics and stretched out, showcasing her chops and those of
guests Oliver Lake, Pat Metheny, and Robert Glasper. Punk figures
prominently too. There is the vaguely political “The Sloganeer:
Paradise,” dusky and danceable thanks to stuttering drums and
Ndegéocello’s Brit-inflected exhortation to “get a bang out of
life,” and the up-tempo “Article 3,” featuring South African singer
Thandiswa Mazwai. Rounding out the cast is Sy Smith, whose dulcet
soprano foils Ndegéocello’s sometimes masculine whir.
Ndegéocello’s successfully adapted the grand scope of the
album to the practicalities of the road, thanks to a tight six-piece
band. In contrast, Ndegéocello’s stage presence is subdued: her
mohawk sometimes shrouded in skull cap or hoodie, eyes closed, head
lolled back, body swaying or spinning into meditative dance. She
doesn’t make much eye contact with the audience and is unlikely to dig
into her back catalogue. As to fans’ disappointed expectations,
Ndegéocello stands firm in an unwillingness “to dwell in the
past,” and a commitment “to be here now.” A “man” of her word,
Ndegéocello unveiled brand-spanking new compositions alongside
selections from The World… and a timely Joy Division cover at
her recent record release party. Characteristically, she satisfied the
throng while leaving them wanting more.