There are many things that Jennifer Hudson can’t do: write her own songs, produce her own music, hold off notes in verses where they’re not needed, release and sell a surprise album (she hasn’t tried it, but it’s difficult to imagine she could pull it off), write a novel. She also can’t bring herself to be a compelling enough interviewee for all of 30 minutes in the interview DVD of her second album I Remember Me. In the interview, she tells us nothing we didn’t already know: Whitney Houston is her musical hero, she has a son that she adores, and she grew up a choir singer. Amidst all these non-surprisants, she reveals exactly one slightly shocking thing: she hates speaking.
At that point in her career – the point where pop divas answer the unavoidable question of Who Are You, Really? (often answered as elaborately as possible, à la Christina Aguilera telling the world via her ~iconic~ second album Stripped that she is a hood rat girl at heart) – the thirst for the Jennifer Hudson identity was then just reaching unquenchable levels. Finding itself in a state of panic with all that talent, the world just had to ask “Who Are You, Really, Jennifer Hudson?” The world already knew about the trophy-collecting singer-actress, but, who is she besides that?
Despite her feelings for the act of opening one’s mouth and producing sounds off it, Jennifer graciously, but tepidly, told the world what it needed to know. Sadly, it didn’t leave the world (okay, just the thousands of people who bought the I Remember Me CD) with answers that could, once and for all, confirm the suspicion that Jennifer Hudson is a fun girl who is secretly an impeccable shade thrower who would have a number of things to say about the lesser vocalists and actors she has worked with (eg, Dreamgirls co-star Beyoncé who came off looking like an amateur next to her Effie, or any of the writers and producers of the ~Grammy-winning~ debut album responsible for would-be-forgettable tracks if it weren’t for her you-can’t-unhear vocals). Having heard what she had to say (via her second album), the world walked away from the podium from which Jennifer chose to stand and deliver such underwhelming answers. The world decided it had better things to do.
In JHUD, Jennifer came back at us (in September last year) dressed in a funky leather jacket on her third album’s cover as if to say, ‘Hey world, I’ve got a funky black leather jacket.’ She also went to a Seth Meyer interview and told us something. If you didn’t guess it before and have just started paying attention, it would appear that she is the kind of girl who would go to a gay bar, take notes from drag queens, and perform. That is something, yes?
Aside from the cool jacket, the songs on JHUD fit J-Hud just right, like no one besides her could wear them (aside from Kelly Rowland or Jazmine Sullivan, maybe). Because pieces of clothing as metaphor for songs tend to get stale and corny very fast, I would just say that JHUD is probably the most satisfying set of songs ever collected on a Jennifer Hudson album.
Released with minimal fanfare, JHUD is where we get a sense of her as an artist: a mutant vocalist who could belt, sass and say ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ in all the right and expected contexts. In “Walk it Out,” her newfound (or momentarily hidden) feist manages to outshine Timbaland’s occasionally obnoxious beatboxing, mechanical intro-rapping, and generally busy production. Album opener “Dangerous” complements the leather jacket-wearing persona so well. Absent any distinct artistic personality in albums past, this time, she does things for the thrill, ‘even if it kills’ and it’s hard not to be thrilled.
Wildly reviled by possessors of good taste the world over, Iggy Azalea and her supposedly unimpressive flow (Note to world: despise Iggy Azalea all you want, but any track she appears in has the distinct habit of catching critics and good taste peddlers’ attention; she is good for something, at least!) is made palatable in the sex jam “He Ain’t Goin Nowhere.” The song has a persistent drum and bass that sync perfectly with Iggy’s actually fine verses. Put another way, Jennifer Hudson makes you anticipate an Iggy Azalea verse. If that’s not talent, I don’t know what is.
This wouldn’t be a 70s vintage disco album without some Pharrell Williams 70s vintage disco things in it (such as the aforementioned Iggy-featuring track). “Just That Type of Girl,” which ever so subtly conjures the bassline and piano chords of Mariah Carey’s “Make It Happen,” is an anomaly. Pharrell, genius sampler that he is, makes that early 90s Mariah track sound subdued by comparison. This observation is probably a result of having listened to a lot of Mariah, but also of having fully functioning ears. “Moan,” an ode to her deceased mother and which she co-wrote, is a stripped down piano ballad that fittingly closes an album insistent on nostalgia.
Like the persona-dipping peers before her (Sasha Fierce, Damita Jo, Xtina, etc.), J-Hud takes on an alter-ego, and the ego is ‘Jones’ as in Grace Jones. It is not the most intriguing alter-ego ever conceived but it will do. People do not approach a Jennifer Hudson album looking for inventiveness, freshness and vitality. What we do as reasonable human beings is sit down and listen to a Jennifer Hudson album and expect to have our ears shattered by all that decibel, and expect some songs we can crank up anytime we’re feeling down and mute. She is not incapable of recording a really good love song, did you know?
At just 10 tracks, JHUD might still leave you feeling un-satiated. But maybe that is the agenda all along: leave people wanting for more – hard to believe when you consider her penchant for giving a chorus and a bridge her everything, her all. So, it is true. There are still so many things that the Oscar-winning, Grammy-snatching, American Idol-losing Jennifer Hudson can’t do, most pressing of which is to get ahead of this diva game (even for a minute), and not be latching on to personas (be it J-Hud or Jones), embracing the gays, and sassing up an image that long deserved a sass makeover this late. But the things she can do, which need no enumerating, wow.