cd reviews R&B
Erykah Badu, "New Amerykah: Part One (4th World War)" (Universal/Motown)
In 1997, Badu introduced herself with a sweet and to-the-point R&B record ("Baduizm"). Then she got into long vamps at the expense of songwriting and concision. The last time we saw a Badu album, four-and-some years ago, it was the expansive and interior "Worldwide Underground." "New Amerykah" is the first installment of a projected pair, and it's a deep, murky swim in her brain.
She's still interested in long songs with little development, but she has turned away from live-band studio jams; most of these tracks were made on a hard drive, hip-hop-style, by producers including Madlib, with a few live instruments added. Sometimes the tracks bear echoes of the old neo-soul style she helped shape in the late '90s, such as Roy Hargrove's soft, multitracked trumpets in "Me." A lot happens in these songs -- sound effects, eccentric interludes, dramatically different kinds of singing, from polished wailing to sleepy, floppy throwaway vocals. The material flickers back and forth between different kinds of sessions and ideas, some quite elegant, some deeply boring, none of it very well edited.
The album's single, "Honey," a lighthearted love song, works like a decoy. What you're really in for is a claustrophobic and sad and sometimes grandiose record, full of woozy tones -- including Badu's own vibrato -- and boiling ideas about institutional racism, the abuse of power, addiction and poverty. But those ideas can be half-expressed or too well worn. 5311
BEN RATLIFF, NEW YORK TIMES
POP/ROCK
Tift Merritt, "Another Country" (Fantasy)
This finds the Americana singer in another mind, as well. The North Carolina native, now based in New York, was inspired by a retreat in Paris, and the more delicate, pop-oriented approach she takes this time suits the introspective, soul-searching nature of the lyrics. It's beguiling, to be sure. But when you get to track 8, "Tell Me Something True," and it immediately kicks into rocking overdrive with punchy horns, you realize how much you miss the younger, rootsier Merritt. That's the one who brought a tough, bluesy edge and country-soul elegance to much of 2004's great "Tambourine." There are only echoes of that here, and the difference is underscored by the closing number, the wistful, sung-in-French "Mille Tendresses," which is more Edith Piaf than Lucinda Williams.
Merritt performs April 6 at Cedar Cultural Center. 5312
