Good Songs People Forget About: D'Angelo, "Untitled (How Does It Feel)"

Over the past few months, I'd been trying to find a copy of D'Angelo's 2000 album "Voodoo", convinced that it was a good R&B album that contained the single "Untitled (How Does It Feel)", which I remembered liking when it was released. I finally snagged a copy of "Voodoo" a few weeks ago, and after listening to it a few times straight through, I realized it was really a fantastic R&B album -- this is a set of slow jams, no doubt, but D'Angelo has the presence on the microphone to prevent the songs from sounding like carbon copies of each other. Each track sounds like both a remolding of classic soul music and an original, 21st-century jam that puts contemporary, poppy R&B artists to shame. There's not much emphasis on lyrics, but that's fine. "Voodoo"'s heart is its throbbing percussion, gliding horns, finger snaps, smooth-as-motherfucking-silk vocals, and the sweat dripping from every note. It might be a little silly to compare an R&B album to MBV's "Loveless", but like that album, "Voodoo" practically radiates warmth.


Anyway, "Untitled (How Does It Feel)" was its third single, and the one that made the most commercial impact, mostly through its video. It is entirely comprised of D'Angelo naked, singing to the camera as it explores his ripped body. The video was both decried for its lewdness and hailed for its artistry, and was nominated for 4 Video Music Awards, including Video of the Year (it lost to "The Real Slim Shady"... which I'm sort of okay with). My opinion of the video is mixed -- it perfectly captures the song's minimalistic tone, but I would never claim it a work of genius. It's an interesting concept, I guess. But what I'm much more interested in is the song itself, which is the most baffling choice for a single imaginable.


The album track is over seven minutes long, but it was cut down to a little over four minutes for the single, I guess because the video director figured that was enough time to see D'Angelo naked. It's a shame, because it really should be appreciated in its original form. "Untitled" begins as the quintessential sex song: a little bit of cymbal-tapping, bass set on "funk" mode, simple piano figure, and an electric guitar lick that Prince should have thought of. In fact, D does a nice job mimicking the Purple One on the track, singing almost entirely in falsetto. He creeps over the bass line, careful not to puncture it; it's almost as if, at the beginning of the song, D'Angelo knows he's eventually gonna tear this bitch up, but for now he's just gonna work the melody. Vocal tracks are consistently layered over his vocals, making it sound like Boyz II Men just invaded the studio, but he always brings the focus back to his aching pipes. Even during the sing-along chorus, D'Angelo is interjecting some dead-serious come-ons, convincing everyone listening that, yes, he wants to have some sex.

But D'Angelo... he keeps it smooth. The interplay between the verses and the choruses is what keeps this song fresh at its gargantuan running time. Each verse is light as air, with D hovering over his boundless emotion before plunging head-first into it during the chorus. The musical shift isn't that jarring, but when that choir comes in to ask, "How does it feeEEEeel?", it's like the sun charging through a sea of gray clouds. Thematically, it represents the moment when thoughts become meaningless, and movements are instinctive. After spouting out reassuring lines like "I can provide that you desire" and "Won't you come closer to me baby" in that heavenly falsetto, D'Angelo becomes tired with talking, and just wants to know how it feels, how she feels, how everything feels. The tempo doesn't pick up, and if the electric guitar becomes more noticeable, the effect is slight. The chorus is decidedly simple, primal, cutting straight to the bone, the moment where D'Angelo just shuts the fuck up and takes it all in. It's a brilliant conceit, and it's hard to imagine it being done more effectively.

But the song is seven minutes long, so it has to go somewhere, right? Right. The bridge basically exists in a pool of ether -- just that drum tapping away, maybe a piano note here, a guitar squeal there. "I wanna... lay you down," D'Angelo whispers, as if he wants the line to be so personal he doesn't want the mic to pick it up. It takes a while for things to become more immediate, but then the backing vocal harmonies slowly swell up, and D'Angelo lets out a glorious wail, and the chorus charges back to the forefront. It's practically the same as every chorus thus far, but something's different. As D'Angelo promises to "take you away from here", it becomes very apparent that the stakes are higher now, that each note is being sung with more force and D is filled to the brim with feeling. And then everything bursts at the seams: with 29 ticks left in the song, D'Angelo lets out one of the most impassioned, beautiful, hypnotic sounds to ever escape a person's mouth, a searing scream that he continues to smother the melting chorus with until the end of the song. It's the song's indispensable climax, and represents one of my favorite moments in any song. And before you've decided whether to smile or to cry, it's all over -- in fact, it ends mid-word, as the choir of voices utters "How does it FE-", and everything goes black. This behemoth of a song burns brightest before becoming extinguished.

I'm sure some people remember this song, but it didn't surprise me that a lot of people don't. First of all, you have to REALLY like R&B to enjoy it; this isn't radio-ready rhythm & pop in the vein of Ne-Yo, this is a crushing soul jam that drips wax. You also have to keep in mind that D'Angelo isn't the most prolific of cats. After releasing "Voodoo" seven years ago, he's been charged with possession, in and out of rehab, and almost died in a car accident. He's supposedly recording a new album, to be released next year, but I won't hold my breath. And you know, it's not unforgivable that people don't know about this song or D'Angelo, but I do find it a little surprising because "Voodoo" really was a big success. It debuted at #1, has gone platinum, and went on to win two Grammys, but I don't see it, or "Untitled", getting the kind of conscious recognition that Lauryn Hill still receives for "Miseducation". Maybe it's because that album was much more accessible, and maybe because Hill decided to become a recluse instead of a screw-up, but I still think D'Angelo's "Voodoo" stacks up higher when compared to it. But even if D'Angelo never records a follow-up and "Voodoo" fades into obscurity, "Untitled (How Does It Feel)" is still a tremendous song, a moving song, a track that deserves to be listened to and appreciated and studied. And that video... well, it's something that D'Angelo can look back on to appreciate his appearance, now that he looks like this.

Good Songs People Forget About: Third Eye Blind, "Never Let You Go"

That girl IS like a sunburn...

I've always addressed Third Eye Blind in a similar fashion to the way I react to Matchbox Twenty, or Smash Mouth. They seem like nice-enough guys who amicably trotted out a few huuuge rock songs in the mid- to late- nineties, and these songs were either overstated in their happiness or pensive in their emotion. Okay, come to think of it, Smash Mouth were just always on the bright fucking side, but as for 3IB and Matchbox Twenty, you could either smile or cry. Matchbox had "The Real World" to brighten yer day, and "3 A.M." and "Push" to shove you to the ground. Third Eye Blind was even more black-and-white to me: on their first album (the one everybody bought), "Semi-Charmed Life" redefined happy-go-lucky, while "How's It Going To Be" and "Jumper" were Mope City. On their second album (the one nobody bought), "Never Let You Go" brightened the mood, and "Deep Inside Of You" killed it. I think you get my point. These bands operated in one vein or the other, and this worked because, after luring in the masses with their inoffensive ditty, they got them to "relate" with their pseudo-ballads. I could also talk about the Goo Goo Dolls, but who the hell ever wants to talk about the Goo Goo Dolls?

Like I previously mentioned, Third Eye Blind's second album, "Blue", didn't sell very well, and this is not due to the quality of the songs, but because "Never Let You Go" never connected with a wide-enough audience, so "Deep Inside Of You" went unnoticed. Oh, they got some radio play, sure, but nothing even close to "Semi-Charmed Life" and "Jumper" levels. This time around, Third Eye Blind's bait didn't work, so they didn't have anything to reel in. It's a damn shame, for two simple reasons: "Deep Inside Of You", if not as hooky as "Jumper", is still a better-written song, and "Never Let You Go" is the best song Third Eye Blind will ever create, and one of the best pop songs I've ever heard. Take another listen. It's perfect.

It's physically difficult for me to talk about just how right Third Eye Blind got it with this one, because all of the elements of this song are indescribably flawless. In order to understand how catchy, fun, dumb, honest, relatable, and positive this song is, you just have to listen to it. But I'll try my best to replicate the feeling into words, I really will.

The whole effect of the song can be summed up within the first eight seconds: a guitar strums a few simple chords, then an electric guitar barrels onto it before the drums kick in. Singer Stephen Jenkins can be heard letting out a "WHOO!" as the cymbals crash down, as if the celebratory exclamation was the only way he could formally react to the small musical climax. God, there's already so much joy in this song before one lyric is uttered.

The verses? The verses are irrelevant, my friend. Yeah I know, that's silly, but it's true for this song. Each one is composed of four lines, and the lines are usually no more than six syllables. Witness verse two: "You say that I've changed/ And maybe I did/ But even if I changed/ What's wrong with it?" Hack writing, you're thinking. And that's understandable, but you're missing the point: if Third Eye Blind could have just made this song three and a half minutes of the chorus, they would have. The verses are placefillers with gee-golly lyrics, just so there's SOME gap between the blissful chorus. Personally, I think the simplicity of the verses adds to the divine sing-along effect of the song, since nearly everyone can figure out the lyrics after a listen or two. Less big words, less chance to screw up!

Oh then there's the chorus, which is soaked in Stephen Jenkins' glorious, glorious falsetto. He starts by simply outlining that he will, in fact, never let you go, and repeats this three times just so you're not confused. Jenkins sings these lines with such boyish charm that you can't help but think, hey, he WON'T ever let me go, what a great/devoted guy! Then he ALMOST says it a fourth time, but transitions into, "I never let you turn around your back on each other/ That's a good idea, break a promise to your mother/ Turn around your back on each other". More rocking-out falsetto, and it's perfectly delivered, with the words "turn" and "good" stretched out for added effect. The chorus is repeated many, many times, and instead of getting sick of it, you grow to love it a little more each time.

It helps that the song's structure is more complex than the verse-chorus set-up. After the second chorus, there's some fist-pumping guitar work, and Jenkins comes in with the bridge, "And all our friends are gone and gone/And all the time moves on and on/And all I know is it's wrong it's wrong/ And all I know is it's wrong..." The last part is echoed, and cuts straight to the third verse, which is only guitar and vocals. This is obviously the "sensitive" part of the song, and Jenkins' words of hope ring out with severe vulnerability. The sunny chorus then bowls it over, reassuring you, the listener, that everything will indeed be okay.

After about nine more choruses, you get to the end of the song, which is still shocking to me to this day. The guitar riff plays out one more time, and then... Stephen Jenkins starts sort-of rapping!! But it's not whiteboy Bubba Sparxxx rapping, no, not at all. Jenkins playfully fucks with the theme of the song and talk-sings about... well, everything. The stupid things! The mood rings! The bracelets, and the beads! If I meet somebody and they don't know every single word to this breakdown, it's difficult for me to befriend them. It's my favorite part of the song, it's your favorite part of the song, it's the best thing Third Eye Blind ever recorded, it's the best part of ANY song...? No, probably not, but I cherish it as a piece of pop heaven.

So why wasn't this as revered as "Semi-Charmed Life"? Because it doesn't have that intangible element that makes it instantly identifiable to a large number of people the way "Semi-Charmed Life" had that "do, do, DO! do, do, DO, DO!" part. Listening to "Never Let You Go" now, though, I just find it depressing that there are no more songs like this on FM radio. If you want rock, you have to be insufferably ironic (Panic! at the Disco, Fall Out Boy to a lesser extent) or middle-of-the-road tough and awful (Nickelback, Hinder) to make the pop station. I know these things work in cycles, so I'm guessing we're about 2 years away from the next onslaught of boy bands and the newest incarnation of Britney Spears, and hopefully they will also bring the happy-go-lucky modern rock bands back to the charts. I know you hated Smash Mouth, but c'mon, is HINDER better?

Third Eye Blind is playing in Philly in less than two weeks. Trading in my indie cred for one night to see them wouldn't be that bad... right?

Good Songs People Forget About: The Game, "Wouldn't Get Far"

I am by no means a fan of The Game's sophomore LP, "Doctor's Advocate". Unlike "The Documentary", which featured first-rate production from Kanye, Just Blaze, and Dre, the beats here seem cherry-picked and forgettable; witness will.goddamn.i.am's "Compton". The Game himself had morphed from hungry up-and-comer with the world in his corner to rap's self-aware black sheep, and while Dre and 50's complete abandonment of Jayceon Taylor must have been pretty stinging, that's no reason to bellyache for an entire album. Jesus, The Game sounds confused on "Doctor's Advocate"; one minute he's sneering "Finished my second LP without a Dr. Dre track/ You can take my soul but you can't take my plaques", the next he's blubbering, "Dre, I didn't mean to turn my back on you/ But I'm a man, and sometimes a man do, what he gotta do". He hates Dre! He loves Dre! He's obsessed with Dre! Basically, "Doctor's Advocate" (hell, even look at the title) is The Game trying to assert himself and prove that he doesn't need Dre to be a superstar, but he still idolizes the man and calls himself the "second coming of Dre". And all of this is over a bunch of beats that ape Dre's signature g-funk but can't touch the magic he constantly creates in the studio. There's a lot of adjectives I could give the main conceit of this album -- puzzling, uninteresting, a little perverse -- and none would be very flattering.
But I'd be lying if I said if I wasn't blown away by track #8, "Wouldn't Get Far". This is exactly the type of sun-soaked street rap that Game had scratched on "The Documentary", that Dre churned out on "Chronic", and that Kanye has been trying to capture throughout his career. Speaking of Mr. West, he produces and lends a guest spot here, and it's a shame that he didn't just stay behind the boards, because this production, which hinges on a vocal loop and a subtle bass line, is fucking dynamite, and his verse is dwarfed by The Game's two. It's not that The Game (just realized I've been capitalizing 'The', but I'll roll with it) is a better rapper than Kanye, or even that what he's saying on this track is that much more insightful. It's just that Kanye will never be a street rapper, and he sounds awkward when he's paired up with a West Coast beat, even if he DID create it.
On the other hand, "Wouldn't Get Far" finds The Game completely and utterly on his... well, you know. He sounds confident here: he WILL NOT fuck up over this beautiful beat, and when he starts spitting, you know he's gonna be okay. I don't know why, it just sounds like nobody else could handle this song as well as The Game does, and the way in which Kanye, a top-10 rapper, hobbles through his rhymes supports the argument. And yeah, Game has a few good lines -- I personally like "She was eye candy in the XXL/ Hopped off the page and on a skateboard with Pharrell" -- but it's his delivery that sells what Game is trying to peddle here (something about girls who hang around rappers too much). On "Doctor's Advocate", The Game is pressing too much on every song, for hooks that aren't there, for couplets that just don't work, for general respect. "Wouldn't Get Far" is where he releases the pressure and just lets shit roll, and he wins. If the rest of "Advocate" had The Game this relaxed and comfortable in his own skin, it would have been the most venerated rap album of a star-starved year for hip-hop. Question: why wasn't "Wouldn't Get Far" blasting from every radio station instead of "This Is Why I'm Hot"?

On a personal note, I'd like to mention that the outro of "Wouldn't Get Far", which finds The Game generally confused as to why the same girls are in every rap video, is absolutely hilarious. Any song that ends with a rapper exclaiming, "I'm watching Oprah cover Hurricane Katrina, and I see the same bitch on 'Oprah', floating away on the hood of a Camry, that was in the nigga Lil' Weezy video! I mean, DAMN!"
When 50 Cent says something half as funny as that, I'll stop supporting G-Unot.

Good Songs People Forget About: Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, "Tha Crossroads"

"He comin again and again and again/ Now tell me what ya gonna do/ Can somebody anybody tell me why he died,we die,I don't wanna die........"

I've decided to start off the "Good Songs People Forget About" category of this blog with "Tha Crossroads" for two reasons. First, I have recently started listening to this song again, over and over, nonstop, and I have mentioned this in passing to many people. Usually the conversation goes something like this: "Hey, remember that Bone Thugs song 'Tha Crossroads'? Yeah, that song's amazing."

Blank stare.

"No, come on, you remember, 'Crossroads', with that crazy video with the ghosts? In, like, '97?"

"...What's a bone thug?"

Seriously, NO ONE I have talked to about this song remembers it, and that would perfectly okay if I didn't recall how that song was freaking EVERYWHERE when it came out. Like, it spent 8 weeks at #1 on the Billboard singles chart. The single sold two million copies. It won a goddamn Grammy! Surely someone must remember this song, and because it seems as if no one does, I'm here to refresh.

The second reason I'm gonna talk about "Tha Crossroads" is because it is a fantastic song, and holds up as one of the best rap singles of the '90s. Bone Thugs N Harmony can never be placed in the same breath with Biggie, Wu-Tang, or Nas when it comes to artistry, and I think that's why this song has been neglected over the course of history. Most of their songs feature lyrics that are either too forgettable or too hard to decipher, since everyone in the group raps so damn fast. They've released a handful of albums in the past half-decade that no one has paid any attention to, and they lack the mainstream charisma of an ass-bag like Diddy. Bone Thugs are, let's face it, no longer relevant, and probably won't receive another 15 minutes.

Still, we have "Tha Crossroads". The song itself is a tribute song to those who have passed (it is specifically directed at Eazy-E and a few other guys). To bring Diddy back into the equation, compare this with "I'll Be Missing You", a like-minded tribute song, and you'll notice a huge difference: unlike Sean Combs' praying-for-profit approach, "Tha Crossroads" is a completely selfless track, the rarest of hip-hop songs. It is a song about death and change, and the way we use religion to heal ourselves while grieving. These are both familiar themes in music and huge issues for a posse-cut single to tackle in less than four minutes, but Bone Thugs don't get bogged down with heavy diatribes or vague messages. It touches on general ideas, but also remains very personal, making the listener understand what these guys have gone through and reflect on past experiences as well. Take this line, which comes about halfway through: "And still keepin up wit they family/Exactly how many days we got lastin, while you laughin we passin', passin' away/God rest our souls, cause I know I might meet you up at the crossroads". It's so simple to relate to nearly everything in these lines: Trying to support a grieving family; wondering when our time will come; hoping that, somehow, we'll be able to see the faces of those who have already left us. "Tha Crossroads" never feels hollow or, worse yet, sarcastic; Bone Thugs do not want to hide the fact that, when it comes to death, they are angry, confused, and terrified, and it all feels authentic.

The lyrics are great, sure, but the way "Crossroads" is gonna knock your socks off is with its structure/sound. The song blends hip-hop and r&b the most successfully I may have ever heard. Each verse more sing-song than sharp spitting, and while this typically detracts from the rapping, here the members of Bone Thugs ride a vocal melody that complements their crazy-quick flows perfectly. The entire song sort of ebbs and flows, with short stabs of harmony breaking apart each rhyme, and the effect is so stunning that I can't understand why it hasn't been duplicated yet. The song's structure is pretty basic on paper: intro, verse, half-chorus, verse, chorus, verse, chorus. If you listen to the lyrics during the sing-along choruses, however, you'll see that they create a perfect balance with the verses. Each verse expresses a certain frustration with the inevitability of death, and the chorus begins with a simple harmony and the phrase, "Hey, and we pray/ Every day, every day, every day". This is done to illustrate a complicated relationship with religion: even when they feel bitter at the world, they persist with prayer, partly to receive comfort and partly to be able to see those they miss in the next life. The first full chorus explodes with "...see you at the CROSSROADS, so you won't be LONELY", and the song becomes an anthem before leading into the inescapable lament, "And I'm gonna miss everybody". There are so many mixed emotions here about death, because there have to be; we all feel them. It's just that Bone Thugs n Harmony has boiled them down into five-word phrases that are surprisingly powerful.

Look. I'm not calling for a Bone Thugs n Harmony takeover of rap, or even that they have another hit song (it would probably be about bitches or weed, and I'd get depressed). I'm just saying that "Tha Crossroads" has an unbelievable amount of ambition for a rap song, or for any kind of song for that matter, and it has the harmonies to back it up. Jesus, the execution of this song is pretty flawless. So come on, listen to "Tha Crossroads", for your first time or your fiftieth. Even if you hate it, you'll get to hear the line, "Damn man, I miss my Uncle Charles y'all", and that's something we can all agree on.