We simply referred to her, as Whitney.

For no one before her, or after her, has even come remotely close to her unspeakable ability. To only refer to Whitney Elizabeth Houston as a merely talented singer, would diminish the enormity of what she truly was. Talent is for the common mortal, and she simply more. Whitney was gifted, and gifted artists come few and far between. Her voice was an instrument infused with the spirit of jazz, the grit of the blues, the emotion of an aria, and was bound together by her love of the Lord. Listen to her recordings, and watch her live performances, and see how she literally sang as if God himself embodied her being; entering and exiting her body through each and every note.

Her family affectionately called her, Nippy.

Like the mischievous cartoon character from which her nickname was derived, Nippy always seemed to tip-toe on the edge of danger. Beneath her sweet-natured and angelic exterior, lay a tough and fiesty homegirl from the projects of Newark, New Jersey. In the beginning, she was often accused of not being “black enough”; for allowing Clive Davis’ influence to infiltrate her cultural upbringing. An upbringing that was saturated by the likes of Aretha Franklin, Dionne Warwick, Chaka Khan, Diana Ross, her mother Cissy Houston, and so many great black female artists that came before her. However, make no mistake, even in those early years, Nippy could sang. She could really, really SANG, and made classics. She was exquisite, always sounding leaps and bounds better live than she did on wax, and far beyond her years. No amount of record label imposed grooming could ever mask the depths of that woman’s soul. And as she lived more, that soul grew. Throughout her life and career, the images of two women deftly emerged: Whitney, the prim and proper Pop princess who blossomed into the foreground of music throughout the latter part of the 20th century, and Nippy, the wild-child diva who bristled under restraint. Each woman was equally important. Neither was necessarily wrong, but one suffered far more than the other.

“…I knew the song was incredible. I knew I had sung the shit out of it. But I had no idea that that record would sell so much, so fast.”

– Whitney, talking about the success of “I Will Always Love You”, Rolling Stone, 1993.

She did it first…and often better.

When thinking about Whitney, we’ve become very selective of the memories that we choose to have. We choose to forget how devastatingly successful she was. She was statistically, the most awarded female artist in music history, a dynamic film producer, businesswoman, philanthropist, and accomplished film actress. She paved the way for most of the women that fill today’s musical landscape, and for a long while, did it with ease. Every child had a Whitney Houston poster on their walls, there wasn’t a nightclub that didn’t play “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”, or a drag queen that couldn’t lip-sync the entirety of “The Greatest Love of All”. Everyone on the face of the planet knows “I Will Always Love You”, no matter if you love it, or not. The accompanying soundtrack to her film debut,  The Bodyguard, was not only the first documented album to sell 1 million copies within the first week of release, but went on to be one of the greatest selling albums of all time. Far before the recent and large influx of diversity in television and film, Whitney strove to introduce stories reflective of the changing landscape of America, with films such as Waiting to Exhale, and Cinderella. Yes, for a time, Whitney was (for lack of a better word) unfuckwitable. Outside of her professional life, Whitney was a wife, a mother, and daughter, and in many ways, held much similarity to most of us. Her deep love of family and God was apparent, and held steadfast even through the worst phases of her life and career.

The public loved to watch her fail.

The many scandals that plagued her life later on has become probably the largest part of the narrative. The public has always had a voyeuristic fascination with watching someone’s downfall. When the subject of said tragedy is a black woman, our gaze toward their descent is all the more punishing. The world watched while she faltered, gawked as she clearly was in pain, and laughed at what tragically became more and more apparent. Many have tried to diagnose her, and while I would never profess to be a medical professional in any way, I would hazard to guess that the circumstances that brought her life to an abrupt end were simple. Nippy was indeed every woman, flawed and vulnerable in spite of her strength; she was a human creature of duality, and was judged harshly for it. I only wish she could have been saved from herself, and more so, from us.

We didn’t love her like we should have…or like we claimed to.

The ballad of Whitney Houston always leaves me to ponder why the public was so hard on her. We don’t view Whitney in the same way we do Prince, Michael, Elvis or Kurt Cobain. Though they all suffered from varying degrees of substance abuse issues, there’s something about Whitney that the public found unforgivable. Was she too real? Too raw? Too unapologetic? Too defiant? I suspect that as she revealed more of who Nippy was, and allowed less of Whitney to shine through, that she became too much for people. As the great writer Alice Walker once quipped, “Folks don’t like nobody being too proud, or too free.”  

Even in death, we haven’t forgiven her love of excess, of Bobby Brown, or possibly of other women. We as a society have the fool-hearted notion that any of what I mentioned above are things that should be absolved; as if we all live our lives cleanly, without any blots on our own stories, or as if one’s sexual preferences are worthy of judgement. I don’t want to go any further without saying that I would never endeavor to normalize or legitimize substance abuse, and it’s far reaching impact of one’s loved ones. At the end of the day, Whitney was the main cause and effect of the troubles in which she endured. However, that seems to be true for a lot of her male counterparts, and yet we remember them much more fondly. Was it her womanhood? Was it because she was black? We claim to love women in our society, but we don’t love them enough to allow them to be imperfect. Lord knows public love for black people is subjective at best, and advantageous at worst. However, I can say that in the end, we never loved Whitney enough to really let her live, nor have we loved her enough to really let her rest in peace. We’re too caught up in the momentary spectacle of scandal.

“Listen, I always move on,” she says. “Nothing can stop me from movin’. What didn’t kill me made me stronger, sweetie. [Laughs] People still don’t believe me. I did another interview today and after an hour and a half of talking to him, [the reporter] said, ‘I still don’t know you.’ I think he was looking for something he didn’t find, trying to understand if I was a jeans girl or a gowns girl. Is she R&B, or is she pop? I am me.”

– Whitney, on the public’s fascination with her personal life, Out Magazine, 2000.

Remember love.

And so today, five years after she went home, on a Saturday much like this one, I urge you the reader, to look at the bigger picture. While the negative aspects of the storied life and death of Whitney Houston are very much imperative to the narrative, they should be just that; aspects. They don’t encapsulate the full story of this brash, fiery, God fearing, beautiful, and deeply flawed human being. I implore you to seek to remember the positives that also fit into the puzzle of this juxtaposition of a woman. Remember her family, who still reel from her loss, more so than fans like myself do. Remember her daughter, who tragically left us far too soon like she did.

I implore you to remember her, ALL of her, with love and kindness.

May you truly rest in power, peace, and love, Nippy.

“I know from whence my help cometh. I do know that. And I know that it’s strong within me. If ever I get low, I get weak, I know where I can turn to. I love the spirit of God so much that I’m not willing to trade that for anything. I’m not trading that for nothing. For nothing. Because I feel joy that I can’t even speak about. And peace that passes all understanding.”

– Whitney, The Oprah Winfrey Show, 2009.

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After arriving in New York, Hyman began what would be a longterm and fruitful partnership with music producer Norman Connors. Connors, who became familiar with Hyman via her popular nightclub act, was introduced to her by fellow musician Richard Clay. It was this meeting, that resulted in her recording a cover of the classic Stylistics song “Betcha By Golly Wow”, a version that I personally believe is superior to the original. After featuring on Connors’ album in 1976, Hyman attained radio success with frequent duet partner Michael Henderson on the song “We Both Need Each Other”, peaking at number 23 on Billboard’s Black Singles chart. Following the success of the single, Hyman signed to legendary independent label, Buddha Records, and released her self-titled debut album the following year.

Following the acquisition of Buddha Records by Arista in 1978, Hyman’s talents were now under the tutelage of music industry legend, Clive Davis. Davis, who’d already been an integral part of the careers of singers Janis Joplin, Bette Midler, and bands Earth Wind and Fire, and Aerosmith, intended for Hyman to become a pop crossover success. After enlisting Barry Manilow to pen her next studio effort, Hyman released her third album, Somewhere in My Lifetime, in 1979. Though the album was a gorgeous mix of mid tempo songs and ballads, the record failed to resonate with pop audiences. Hyman’s follow-up album, You Know How to Love Me, found Hyman paired with R&B producers James Mtume and Reggie Lucas. The lead single of the same name, peaked at number 12 on the Black Singles Chart, and is considered one of the great disco tracks of the late 1970’s. The album itself sold 400,000 copies, which was the most Hyman had sold at that point, but still disappointed the label heads at Arista.

The 1980s saw Hyman expand her talents into other forums of the entertainment world, culminating in her star-making turn in the Broadway revival of Duke Ellington’s Sophisticated Ladies, alongside Gregory Hines from 1981 to 1983. For her work in Sophisticated Ladies, Hyman was nominated for a Tony Award for Best Newcomer, and garnered a new audience of fans that were captivated by Hyman’s dynamic voice and stunning beauty. Simultaneously, Hyman found herself with a top 10 R&B hit with the song “Can’t We Fall in Love Again”, with Michael Henderson. In the time that Hyman spent doing Broadway, Davis’ attentions were shifted to developing Arista newcomer Whitney Houston, and after a fractious seven years, Arista chose to drop Hyman from the label in 1985.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UivPgMzzn6E

Throughout the latter part of the 1980s to the early 1990s, Hyman divorced husband and longtime manager Larry Alexander, and like so many others of her time, struggled with a dependency on cocaine, and alcohol. Diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder, Hyman would begin a cycle of stints in rehab, followed by periods of sobriety and relapse that would plague her for the rest of her life. It was also during this time, that Hyman produced some of the most emotive and personal work of her career. After signing with Philadelphia International Records in 1986, Hyman released Living All Alone the same year, the title track in which, became one of her best known songs. “Living All Alone” became a staple in her live performances, which frequently featured Hyman’s ability to whistle the entirety of the song’s musical break. 1991’s Prime of My Life was Hyman’s first studio album in five years, and featured Hyman’s sole pop hit, “Don’t Wanna Change the World”, which peaked at number one on the R&B charts, and 68 on the Hot 100. The album itself went gold, and was the final album to be released during Hyman’s lifetime. Throughout 1992 to 1994, Hyman was deeply enveloped in drug abuse after the deaths of both of her parents, and being ravaged by the psychological effects of Bipolar II. In spite of her troubles, Hyman went on to craft her final album of new material, the hauntingly titled, I Refuse to Be Lonely in early 1995.

On June 30, 1995, after failing to arrive at a sound check for a show she was scheduled to perform at the Apollo Theater, Phyllis Hyman was found dead in her apartment; the victim of an apparent suicide, aged 45. After experiencing several delays that reportedly had a negative impact on Hyman’s mental health in her final months, I Refuse to Be Lonely was posthumously released in November of 1995. Like many of the singles throughout her career, it was the title track that proved to be a standout on the album, and tragically, turned out to be the swan song of her career. Though the life and career of Phyllis Hyman experienced both triumph and tragedy, what should be remembered most is her enigmatic and witty stage persona, majestic voice, and captivating beauty, along with an expansive musical catalog of soul touching work. If you’ve never been familiar with her, I highly encourage you to check out her greatest hits collection down below.

The post Black Music Month Spotlight: Phyllis Hyman appeared first on THE 97.

The road to stardom was not immediate, nor was it easy for Alicia Keys. Born Alicia Augelio Cook on January 25, 1981, the New York-born and bred piano prodigy was always destined for greatness. After signing her first recording contract with Columbia Records in 1995 at the age of 14, Keys spent the better part of two years perfecting her craft. After little progress was made during her tenure at Columbia, Keys signed a production deal with Jermaine Dupri’s So So Def Recordings in 1997, drafting her first professional recording under his tutelage that same year. After another bout of inactivity at Columbia, Keys contacted music industry impresario Clive Davis, who scooped her up and inked her to a contract first with Arista, and then with his own J Records imprint. It was then full steam ahead, as Alicia prepped her debut album for release. Aptly titled Songs In A Minor, the record was released on June 5, 2001. Join Andrew and Jordan as they extract a few favorites and break them down:

“Piano And I”

Keys sets the tone magnificently with this intro/interlude, beginning with the consummate pianist playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. After a few bars of this classical piece, the beat suddenly drops, and then… hip hop drums take over the track, thus kicking the album (and her career) off on the right note. One of the things that can be especially appreciated about Alicia is that she is an extremely proficient and well versed musician, that won’t be boxed in to one sound, which she makes especially clear with this opening track.- Andrew

“Girlfriend”

What a bop, what an underrated gem. This song, was the final single from the album that was released overseas. Lyrically, we find Alicia playing on the age old debate as to whether or not men and women can just be friends, with Alicia cleverly referring to her boyfriend’s female friend as his girlfriend, (in the friendly sense of the word). Like many other tracks on the album, the slick piano melody meshes well with a mid tempo hip hop beat, this time produced by Jermaine Dupri, featuring his signature So So Def sound. For the lyrical content, and JD tinged vocals, it’s by far one of the best tracks on the record. – Andrew & Jordan

“How Come You Don’t Call Me”

I remember an article calling Alicia Keys “The New Queen of Soul” and being enraged. They were definitely speaking of “Fallin’”, which has a clear Aretha influence, but if there was any song that proved that title to be justified, it was this. She demonstrates great vocal control on the first verse, and then the second verse. Oh, my, god. The second “stilllllll” is Aretha to a t. As if that wasn’t enough, there’s the “tell me baby baby baby why, why you wanna go and break my heart?” I get my life every single time I hear those phrasings. She killed it. – Andrew

What is as equally as important as her clear derivatives from Aretha Franklin, is the fact that the song was written and recorded originally by another one of Keys’ heroes, the late great Prince. The original track, which was first featured on his 1993 compilation The Hits/B-Sides, features slightly different melodies, and relies mostly on bluesy piano playing on the part of Prince, whereas Alicia’s version is more rooted in hip hop. Doing a song that was originally created by His Royal Badness is quite a tall order to fill, especially for a new artist like Keys was at the time. However, her interpretation of this one showed that she not only had the chops needed pull it off well, but had the ability to make the song into her own. – Jordan

“Fallin’”

I think it’s safe to say that we all remember when this dropped. It is truly the epitome of a classic. From the simplicity of the piano, to the angst of the drums (especially the high hat), and her iconic a cappella “I keep on fallin’…” opening, it was this song that catapulted Alicia into super-stardom. The song finds Keys in the midst of a confusing romance with her lover, to which she finds herself constantly second guessing herself, and wondering out loud if their love will survive the constant changes it undergoes. I love how lyrically Alicia uses the word fallen to refer to both the high points and low points of the relationship, with the highs seeing her fall in love with her boyfriend, and the lows finding her falling out of love. Conversely, such lyrical prowess showcases a woman who possessed thought processes that were far beyond her 20 years, while simultaneously maintaining the essence of young love. This first single from Minor reached number one on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart, and earned Keys numerous awards, including three Grammy Awards, most notably, Song of the Year in 2002. And really, who WASN’T rocking those classic cornrows because of Alicia in the video? Iconic. – Jordan & Andrew

“Rock Wit U”

So many songs with this title, and this one is by far one of my favorites. Starting with a funky bass line, groovy percussion section, and a piano medley reminiscent of funk’s heyday during the 70’s blaxploitation film period, this song organically breezes from funky soul to hip hop with ease. Relying heavily on stellar instrumentation, the song plays for nearly a minute and a half before Alicia’s voice enters the track. Personally, I find that Alicia’s vocals are at their best when she demonstrates her lower contralto range, and this song is a good representation of that. Homegirl served us some good Anita Baker tease with this one. Content wise, the song describes the typical lust and longing between lovers, however the vocal delivery and vocal arrangement are impeccable. Besides, any song that can incorporate Stevie Wonder’s “Ordinary Pain” from his magnum opus Songs in the Key of Life, gets automatic 10’s from me. – Jordan

“A Woman’s Worth”

I remember despising this song when it first came out. I didn’t get what it meant, and found it annoying. I had to grow up to really appreciate it’s meaning. The song details exactly what the title implies, with Alicia musing that she will do all she can to hold her man down, but in return expects his love and undivided attention. If there is any question as to whether or not Alicia is a competent songwriter, this song is definitely one that best exemplifies her skills, with lines such as this one:

“She walks the mile makes you smile all the while being true,
Don’t take for granted the passions that she has for you
You will lose if you chose to refuse to put her first,
She will if she can find a man who knows her worth.”

PREACH, GIRL! -Jordan

“Lovin’ You”

Hello, hidden track! These have become such a thing of the past, to find one these days, and of this quality is surely a rarity to say the least. As if there weren’t enough comparison to Aretha, she proceeds to flip “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman” on this. Not only the instrumentation (piano, rich strings), but also the occasional background “awoo” and lyrical subjects. It’s the perfect, secret closer to this classic body of work. – Andrew

After 15 years, this album has done nothing but age gracefully like a fine wine. Alicia went on to win five Grammy Awards for Songs in A Minor, including Song Of The Year and Best New Artist. Minor proved to be a catalyst for a shift in early 2000’s R&B, and began her ascent to being one of the most consistent, revered, and greatest artists of the new millennium.

*Note: Because “How Come You Don’t Call Me?” is a Prince song, it is not available on Spotify, but trust us, it’s worth the $1.29 on iTunes!

The post For The Nostalgia: Alicia Keys’ Songs In A Minor appeared first on THE 97.