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NEW YORK TIMES
Jon Pareles
January 5, 2000
Album of the Year
1. Meshell Ndegeocello "Bitter"
Mourning a breakup carries the singer into a contemplative realm where soul, jazz, rock and folk intersect. The songs circle through gentle vamps, trying to break free and find solace and perhaps redemption.
ARTS WEEKLY
Adrian Gregory Glover
October 20, 1999
"Fucking amazing" were the first words that fell out my mouth when this collection of brings-you-to-tears melancholy started pumping through my speakers.
Believe the hype, as this multitalented artist best known for her prime bass thumping skills has delivered perhaps the very best been-through-hell relationship-oriented record of all time.
"Fool Of Me" asks a question that we've all asked at some point, but with so much oomph that one flashes back to every occasion upon which it has cut the deepest and hurt the most.
Forget best of the year... try one of the best of the decade.
E! ONLINE
August 24, 1999
A-
Once the baddest, baldest diva around, Ndegeocello exchanges her traditional funkiness for this solemn set that's also her best to date. She contemplates lost loves and wonders whether we should even bother trying to find someone. She starts off with the unusually haunting instrumental "Adam," does a little Hendrix (with a slower, more intricate arrangement of "May This Be Love") and closes it out with the soulful "Grace," using her deep vocal textures to real advantage.
SEATTLE WEEKLY
Jon Caramanica
October 7-13, 1999
For Meshell, bits of rock, folk, and funk have always been part of the equation, and Bitter promised to be her magnum opus, a more personal and developed musical statement than her previous two records. Live, it should be said, Meshell testifies her way through these tracks, backed by a rich, vibrant ensemble that on the record was either missing or locked in another room. Her vocals are still deliciously syrupy, though; on "Loyalty" she soothes a lover, assuring that "like a child, you will never want for love/ 'cause all that I have I give to you." In her rich tenor, she weaves a narrative of cruel love throughout the album that, married with more robust arrangements, might impact more deeply. Instead, Craig Street (who produced the entire album, the first time Meshell has worked with an outside producer) plays down the music, presumably to let the star take center stage. All well and good, but rather than subtly complement her mood, the music lumbers around, undermining what might be otherwise poignant moments.
BOSTON GLOBE
Vanessa E. Jones
September 30, 1999
Fans expecting the usual funk and sass of a Meshell Ndegeocello album may be shocked by the singer bassist's latest album. The woman who once sang "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)" deals with the fallout of relationships and the struggle to move on in the appropriately titled Bitter. On this mellow, elegiac record, Ndegeocello sings about one-sided love, intense affairs, and unfaithfulness. She mixes blues, folk, jazz, and even Asian music. A combination of piano and organ jump start "Faithful," a song about cheating that ends in guitar wails. Ndegeocello adds some Oriental flavor to her version of Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love," while "Beautiful" floats along with spare piano and Ndegeocello's aching lyrics. The bluesy "Wasted Time," about unrequited love, starts with a bubbling dance beat, then builds in intensity with drum and guitar accents. It adds up to a compelling album.
NEW YORK TIMES
Stephen Holden
December 6, 1999
This suite of songs about sexual betrayal slices to the bone and is delivered in an intimate speech-song that finds every shade of meaning in the word "bitter." Craig Street's production fleshes out Ndegeocello's inner world with a quirky subterranean ambience.
VIBe
Tom Terrell
September 1999
Album of the Year
Click here to read the full review.
MTV
Jason Ferguson
February 23, 2001
Seldom has there been a record that was as anticipated — for the right reasons — as Bitter has been. Sure, first day sales for next week's No Limit installment may very well eclipse it and perhaps there are many other records that will garner a lot more attention. But for the folks who have been exposed to Ndegeocello's artful mastery of contemporary soulful pop, Bitter couldn't have gotten here quickly enough. Her music is so unique, so intriguing, and so well-done that it's simply a case of there being nobody else out there that can come close. And thus, if you wanna hear Meshell music, you gotta wait for a Meshell album. And Meshell albums take a little while to finish cooking.
But, thankfully, for all the folks who have been waiting, Bitter will not disappoint. It might confound. It might take a while to sink in. But it will not disappoint. Largely subdued in tone, but bathed in a startling number of different textures, Bitter is less a collection of songs than an expression of beauty. And, sure, that may sound extreme, but even a cursory listen reveals that Ndegeocello is not one to take her music lightly, and the intensity and attention that she affords it results in a truly beautiful expression. From the opening string-drenched dirge of "Adam" and "Fool of Me" to the closing collapse of "Grace," Ndegeocello makes the 47 minutes of Bitter seem like a blissful, cohesive second. Notably light on her superlative bass-playing, the majority of Bitter is built around multiple layers of harmonies, dense combinations of strings, restrained percussion, and marvelously expressive piano. Ironically, the cover of Hendrix's "May This Be Love" is almost the most Meshell-sounding song here: with the tempo slowed, the guitar replaced by thick, swirling effects, and her whispery voice mixed high, the song plays less like a rock ballad classic and more like a viscous moodpiece. It's one of many highlights, to be sure.
Although the consistently damp mood here may cause some to question her status as the funk goddess for the '90s, any funk that's been lost is more than amply replaced with a sublime sense of musical perfection. Very few artists are able (much less willing) to create an album like this. Be thankful that somebody did. It'll give you plenty to chew on until the next one comes out.
JOHN HOPKINS NEWS-LETTER
Rachel Sams
September 1999
Click here to read the full review.
BALTIMORE CITY PAPER
John Lewis
December 15-21, 1999
A great postfunk record, Bitter is Ndegeocello's most direct and satisfying effort to date. With hints of Joni Mitchell and Sly Stone in the mix, it simmers with soulful grooves, smoldering sexuality, and pop melodicism. "Loyalty" should have been one of the summer's biggest hits.
ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY
Rob Brunner
September 3, 1999
Grade A
If even one half of Meshell Ndegeocello's third album is autobiographical, then her life since 1996's Peace Beyond Passion has been a grueling period of cruelty and infidelity between her and a lover. She's been made a fool of, ignored, lied to, betrayed, and emotionally abused in just about every way imaginable. Lucky us: Her misery has resulted in a stunning set of tough and tender sob stories.
Produced by Craig Street (k.d. lang, Cassandra Wilson), Bitter bears little resemblance to Ndegeocello's two previous albums, both of which spun themes of spirituality and identity politics into fusiony funk workouts. Instead, she uses a piano, a string quartet, and some lovely electric guitar to create a sound reminiscent of Jimi Hendrix's quieter songs (his "May This Be Love" marks the album's midpoint). She delivers simple, declarative phrases in a simple, demonstrative voice. When she sighs that "no one is faithful" (clearly including herself), her quiet resignation screams hurt and guilt and strength all at once. Bitter never tasted so sweet.
NEW YORK TIMES
Ann Powers
October 8, 1999
Album of the Week
In this season of blockbusters, as Garth Brooks morphs into Chris Gaines and Trent Reznor crawls forth to top the charts again, subtler artistic transformations may be overlooked. Consider Bitter, the third album by Meshell Ndegeocello.
The willfully elusive Bitter is the inverse of sensationalistic art. Yet it is a bold move from Ms. Ndegeocello, who rose to prominence as an innovator with a wild streak. An open bisexual and religious seeker who intertwined biblical references with politics and sass, Ms. Ndegeocello raised issues that heightened her profile. "Bitter takes similar chances in a far less flashy way.
Bitter examines romantic loss and rebirth within music structured to mirror introspection. Its rhythms flow in circulatory patterns guided by Ms. Ndegeocello's bass playing; guitars, strings and her guarded vocals intertwine like brain waves. The songs dissect passion touch by touch, as the skilled musicians Ms. Ndegeocello has assembled encounter one another note by note.
Those collaborators include the former Prince inspirations Wendy and Lisa, the guitarists Ronnie Drayton, Doyle Bramhall, II and the producer Craig Street. Mr. Street gives Ndegeocello room to emote, as he has done with Cassandra Wilson and k.d. lang. She chose stillness as her métier, and in doing so created something worth bothering to notice.
ATLANTIC CITY PRESS
Tim Zatzariny, Jr.
August 1999
* * * ½
On her third album, singer/bassist Ndegeocello graduates from the acidic funk of her earlier work to introspective soul that recalls the '70s work of Marvin Gaye, especially his post-divorce album, "Here, My Dear."
"Bitter" finds the brash young woman who once sang, "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)," a little bit older and a lot less bolder. Here, she lament a loss of trust in friends, lovers and even herself.
That's not to say Bitter isn't a gigantic leap forward for Ndegeocello.
Over the course of three albums, she's learned, like Gaye did, that sometimes the best way to make your point is through a slow burn. "Forgive me for my ways/ No one is faithful," Ndegeocello sings in "Faithful," one of several songs on Bitter that examines the cracks in relationships that sometimes widen into canyons.
One of Ndegeocello's gifts is the ability to sound tough and vulnerable, often within the same song. On Bitter, she's more vulnerable than ever. "I can see my rainbow calling me/ Through the misty breeze of my waterfall," she sings in "May This Be Love," accompanied on acoustic guitar by Wendy Melvoin (formerly of Prince's backing band.)
Ndegeocello turns Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love" into a jazzy ballad, complete with a string section. Plenty of artists have covered Hendrix over the years, but few have enough soul to pull it off as well as Ndegeocello. With "Loyalty," Ndegeocello pays tribute to the '70s Philly soul sound and one of her influences, Gladys Knight.
Despite its spare arrangement and almost off-the-cuff feel, "Beautiful" conveys a powerful sense of longing, with an almost whispered vocal by Ndegeocello.
Ndegeocello and Texas troubadour Joe Henry may seem like an odd pairing, but they turn in an effectively eerie duet on "Wasted Time." The album ends on a hopeful, if cautious, note. "Your love's my only saving grace," Ndegeocello sings in "Grace."
Ndegeocello may be obsessed with the impermanence of faith, but on "Bitter," she delivers many subtle—and lasting—pleasures.
WIRED
Tamara Palmer
November 1999
Noticeably less aggressive than on her first two efforts, Meshell Ndegeocello exposes a tender underbelly with Bitter. Her powerful voice doesn't emerge beyond a guarded and gentle whisper in tunes like "Fool Of Me" and "Wasted Time," as she reveals a soul battered by failed love. She has never sounded so beautiful — or so honest.
CREATIVE LOAFING
Audese Green
November 6, 1999
As fine as Meshell Ndegeocello's last two albums were, to make another "smell my funk" lexicon would probably be uninspiring. Instead, she's crawled out of her comfort zone of bass-oriented music and to cultivate the genius beneath the grooves. The result: a daring record, curiously titled Bitter. Not since Terence Trent D'Arby's Neither Fish Nor Flesh in 1989 has a black-pop artist made such a robust turn-around.
While clearly a giant step away from the jazz-funk that's made a name for Ndegeocello, Bitter is just as passionate, listenable and, thankfully, soulful. So don't be discouraged by the album's absolute mellowness. It's not that this record may be too slow for some people; some people may be too slow for this record. She did the right thing by making this departure — composing chiefly on piano and acoustic guitar has invigorated her. Recruiting guest musicians, including keyboardists/guitarists Wendy and Lisa, Doyle Bramhall II and strings arranger Steven Barber was the new blood the bassist needed.
As always, though, it's what Ndegeocello has to say that matters most, and, for what it's worth, she comes across far less tough. Here, she's truly unguarded, expressing vulnerability while maintaining herself as a force to be reckoned with. Though unlike anything else we've heard from Ndegeocello, Bitter, sounds very familiar at times: The dreary ballad "Fool Of Me" falls somewhere between a collective Al Green/Prince consciousness; the equally somber "Faithful" contains an Ernie Isley-style guitar solo that indeed gets your attention. But the most radio-palatable track — hands-down — is "Loyalty," a good boy-meets-girl story with a catchy hook. Here, Meshell shows she hasn't totally abandoned her roots.
TORONTO SUN
Jane Stevenson
September 12, 1999
* * * * *
The first album in three years from this Grammy-Award winning singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist is a striking departure from her earlier funk-and R&B-filled work.
Produced by Craig Street (k.d. Lang, Cassandra Wilson), Ndegeocello opens this stripped-down, strings-piano-and-acoustic guitar collection with a pretty, melancholy instrumental called "Adam." Then her deep voice kicks in on the next track, "Fool Of Me," whose sad vibe doesn't exactly pick the somber mood up.
"I remember when you filled my heart with joy, was I blind to the truth just there to fill the space, cause now you have no interest in anything I say," laments Ndegeocello in the song's opening verse.
The same goes for the slow-tempoed next number, "Faithful," in which she declares: "No one is faithful, I am weak, I go astray, forgive me for my ways."
A bummer to be sure, but an incredibly moving one on those two songs, and on the stunning title track, "Beautiful," "Wasted Time" and a trippy cover of Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love."
Ndegeocello certainly seems to be working through some relationship issues on this alternately gentle and sultry album, but just so you don't get the wrong idea, it's not all sad sack songs.
The tempo picks up a bit on the more soulful "Satisfy," "Sincerity," "Loyalty" and the upbeat, album-ending "Grace."
She may be Bitter, but boy does Ndegeocello ever sound beautiful on her latest outing. One of the year's best so far.
DALLAS MORNING NEWS
Thor Christensen
September 5, 1999
Meshell Ndegeocello's last name is Swahili for "free like a bird"—which perfectly captures the wide-ranging mood of her bold third album.
Working closely with cutting-edge producer Craig Street (k.d. lang, Cassandra Wilson), the singer explores all sorts of mellow styles and headphone-friendly textures, from the futuristic world music of "Eve" and the ambient country—industrial-jazz of "Wasted Time" to the cello-and-violin interludes that show up in several songs.
"Wild Night" this isn't. But while Bitter can be a hard pill to swallow at times, the singer keeps the self-consciously arty moments in check. For all its genre-bending, the CD's best moments come in such simple pleas for love as "Loyalty" and "Grace." Wrapping her dusky, understated voice around these ballads, Ms. Ndegeocello reminds you of Marvin Gaye and Smokey Robinson in their prime.
While she sang about racism and homophobia on past albums, this time out she delivers an epic poem about infidelity, betrayal and dead-end relationships. The lyrics of Bitter are seldom sweet, but her sultry music usually hits the spot.
PORTLAND PRESS HERALD
Matt Plouffe
October 24, 1999
Grade B-
Bitter, the latest release from multi-faceted musician Meshell Ndegeocello, is so disturbingly different from her last two albums that many fans are going to consider it a new beginning.
Laden with slow acoustic love songs, the album explores the realms of successful and failed relationships through overtly simplistic poetry and a minimalist approach to musical expression. Aside from the instrumental pieces "Adam" and "Eve," which seem conspicuously out of place, Ndegeocello makes only vague references to religion as she picks her way through 12 songs on an acoustic guitar.
So what happened to the funky, bass-guitar-toting feminist whose views on religion, homosexuality and love resulted in matter-of-fact songs such as "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)"? Good question.
It seems as if Ndegeocello has decided on simplicity of form as a means of making an effective statement. While earlier songs, demonstrative of her passionate beliefs, revolved around gritty drum samples and vigorous bass playing, songs such as "Fool of me" and "Beautiful" focus on her deep, soulful voice.
"Beautiful," one of the most moving tracks in the album, is a mere five lines long: "Such pretty hair/ May I kiss you/ May I kiss you there/ So beautiful you are/ So beautiful." As Ndegeocello sings, often at nearly a whisper volume, her voice conveys startling intimacy. Even a simple key change has a tremendously moving effect.
On the whole, however, the album is slow and at points even lethargic. The listener is likely to get bored with the repeated themes of lost love on the album. Bitter, for all its beauty, lacks variety. By the end of the album, the listener has been subjected to 12 songs from a woman with a broken heart. It gets tiring to listen to this theme again and again without any breaks. Because the album lacks a single fast-paced track, it is frankly quite depressing to sit through.
Meshell Ndegeocello has returned to the scene with something new that will surprise her fans. Whether they like this change depends on their willingness to let go of the image she created in her previous albums and their tolerance for sadness. Bitter is a poignant and heartfelt offering, but its heavy theme may be too much weight for some fans to bear.
ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Ben Wener
August 20, 1999
Grade: A-
Breakup albums are nothing new to pop music. Virtually every singer-songwriter worth his or her sensitivity has made one—many of which ironically have been breakouts to a wider audience. They can be healing and introspective, like Joni Mitchell's "Blue." They can be defiant and independent, like Carole King's "Tapestry." They can even be vicious, like Marvin Gaye's brutal "Here, My Dear." But it's the rare breakup album (like those three) that stands as something more, speaking universally about heartbreak while also expanding an artist's approach.
That's what Meshell Ndegeocello achieves with her third release, Bitter, and that's no mean feat. The androgynous bassist, best-known to pop fans as the bald chick in John Mellencamp's "Wild Night" video, has been shattering stylistic, racial and religious boundaries from the moment she first appeared, singing about digging her lover like an old soul record (you know, like "Ain't No Woman Like the One I Got," just to keep you guessing).
Whoever that lover was, though, he/she hurt Meshell badly. Now, rather than seek retribution (like Marvin), the performer has channeled her hurt and pain into a captivating but extremely somber album that finds hope only in its final moments—and even then, it's a sketchy optimism.
Somewhat framed by yin-and-yang instrumentals (appropriately titled "Adam" and "Eve"), Bitter is a harsh journey of the soul that goes through much the same mental process as that of people on their deathbed: first the denial ("Fool of Me"), then the ruminative anger ("Faithful," perhaps the nastiest track), the bargaining (beautifully encapsulated in a rethinking of Hendrix's "May This Be Love") and the acceptance (the tragic "Wasted Time") before ultimately letting go (in "Grace," in which Meshell decides, yet again, that the only thing she believes in is God).
Heavy stuff? Absolutely, and avoid if you're feeling suicidal.
Lyrically, Ndegeocello has never been so direct and self-critical.
Gone is much of the social commentary and study of religious hypocrisy that was the basis of her last album, 1996's masterful Peace Beyond Passion. Here, in a deeply personal exploration, Ndegeocello seems to be singing for no one but herself—and yet reaching anyone who has ever loved and lost.
Musically, however, the album takes some getting used to. It's certainly well-crafted, almost to a fault, the way Sting's darkest moments can seem less cathartic and more pre-arranged. From any other artist, Bitter would be an artistic revelation. From Ndegeocello, it's an unusual retreat from the funk 'n' rock grooves that have been her hallmark, with much of its atmosphere heard earlier in albums from The Blue Nile and Cassandra Wilson.
Still, there's a tendency not to be harsh, because there are few experiences like this one. "Loyalty," for one, is a marvelously realistic portrait of a couple in dire straits, while the title track, a stark acoustic number, echoes the scariest recesses of Jefferson Airplane's "Coming Around Again."
And besides, why kick Meshell when she's already feeling so low? This may not be the peak of her vision, but then, it wasn't all that long ago that she was thinking of giving it all up, period. Thank God she didn't. We need music like this, no matter how difficult it may be to hear.
USC DAILY TROJAN
Andrew Olds
August 31, 1999
During the course of her previous two albums, Meshell Ndegeocello has confronted race, religion and sexuality without sounding didactic. For Bitter, Ndegeocello's third and most introspective album to date, she trades her conversational style for a more inward examination of her relationships.
Initially on Bitter, it appears as if Ndegeocello has given up both her brashness and her bass. The opening track, "Adam," is an instrumental lacking Ndegeocello's favorite instrument, the bass guitar. It is an interesting method of opening an album. An instrumental is often a declaration of security in sound, yet "Adam" is devoid of her signature instrument. Instead, the instrumental is more of a cleansing of her musical past, which was both critically rich and, to a limited extent, commercially successful.
Throughout Bitter, the potent, brazen bass lead that served as the linchpin in Ndegeocello's career has disappeared. Instead, the lead instrument is a soft and delicate keyboard played by Lisa Coleman, and there are only occasional glimpses of the once-dominant bass. Given Ndegeocello's previous work, this is somewhat of an audacious step commercially.
Musically, the result of her experiment is a softer and fuller sound, yet undeniably missing the power of her gifted bass. That Ndegeocello, once named bassist of the year by Bass Player magazine, does not rely on her core instrument speaks volumes of her courage as an artist and her dedication to her internal wishes. The result of this risk is that the music doesn't quite achieve her past brilliance, but serves as a better platform from which to express her internal emotions.
The reticent bass of Bitter is not Ndegeocello's only experiment. On previous albums, Ndegeocello portrayed herself as an independent and strong black woman. She talked easily of religion, ethnicity and sexuality, and won rave reviews for her ability to discuss such subjects with honest insights.
With Bitter, Ndegeocello changes tack. She becomes confessional, discussing her loneliness, love, anger and feelings of helplessness. On "Wasted Time," Ndegeocello sings: "You rarely notice/ but I hang on your every word." Such a statement would have been inconceivable on her previous two albums, where Ndegeocello was the model of the smart and independent woman. But statements like these are not about submission or a loss of strength; they are about a strong woman who is so sure in herself that she is able to reveal her inner feelings.
When Ndegeocello speaks of religion, she refers to her own personal relationships with God. On "Grace," Ndegeocello sings about her loyalty to God and the great happiness she receives from her faith. Throughout Bitter, her songs of love are equally spread to those of other people and of God.
At times, though, Ndegeocello is holding back, and this is evident in her reluctance to use her bass. The instrument is her great strength, and on previous works she was able to rescue a song with a single solo or evoke an emotion with a profound melody. Even when her bass springs forth from the background on Bitter, it is neither brilliant nor moving.
Ndegeocello also stops short of a full description of her emotions. She states her feelings rather than letting her story relate them. The honesty that is the mantle of Ndegeocello's work is present, but the craft of relating her feeling has not been fully realized. Additionally, with the exception of the title track, Ndegeocello is much more confident describing her thoughts toward God than on others.
While many rock artists have lowered their sound and smoothed their edges to achieve a larger following, what is notable about Bitter is how far it breaks from her earlier work. The truth is that Bitter is not about a trek into stardom for Ndegeocello, but an album predicated on her self-confidence and her yearning to express and share her emotions.
As compared to her previous work, Bitter is much more commercially inclusive. Meshell Ndegeocello abandons her previous success and depends solely upon her voice and songwriting skills. The result is an enjoyable self-confessional album, but one that lacks one crucial element—the flair and talent of Ndegeocello's brilliant bass.
TIME OUT NEW YORK
Margeaux Watson
Aug 26-Sep 2, 1999
On Bitter, Meshell Ndegeocello's stunningly breathy voice paints the sound of heartbreak. Unlike her two previous albums, Bitter does not address political, religious or controversial issues; instead, it centers on Ndegeocello's efforts to heal herself. The result is a superlative album that flows like one seamless, sad love song.
Bitter opens with "Adam," a melancholy string arrangement that sets the mood of the album. The indigo melody of "Fool of Me" spills out and lingers like warm tears as Ndegeocello laments an ex-lover who cruelly tossed her aside. On "Faithful," which closes with a fiery guitar solo, she apologizes and asks forgiveness for her unfaithful ways. Underscored by sorrowful strings and acoustic guitar, the jaded lyrics of the title track embody the ache of loss. And on "Wasted Time," Ndegeocello dimly lilts about the agony of loving someone who doesn't notice her.
Despite the overwhelmingly blue vibe of Bitter, there are a few brighter tracks that joyfully recall fleeting moments of happiness. "Satisfy" is a spirited love song anchored by a lush, synthesized string arrangement. Ndegeocello loses herself in a romantic fantasy during a cover of Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love." Her hushed voice quivers as she utters sweet pillow talk on "Beautiful." And she gives high praise to a lover on "Grace," citing their love as her "only saving grace."
Bitter is both a comforting and painful listen, because it transports you to an unbearably sensitive emotional place. Fortunately, Ndegeocello was able to transform her pain into unimagined beauty; in the process, she's given birth to her best work yet.
THE COMMERCIAL APPEAL
Bill Ellis
September 11, 1999
* * *
On her evocative third album, Bitter, Meshell Ndegeocello has crafted a torch song cycle that details the barbed edges of infidelity with pained honesty - "No one is faithful/ I am weak/ I go astray/ Forgive me for my ways" she sings on "Faithful," one of many emotionally charged highlights. Fans of both Lauryn Hill and Cassandra Wilson will find a simpatico soul sister in Ndegeocello.
WASHINGTON POST
Geoffrey Himes
December 24, 1999
For years people have been expecting this funk bassist to go pop, but they never expected her to go pop like this—with lush, hushed string arrangements wrapped around intensely intimate ballads.
THE MELBOURNE AGE
October 28, 1999
For her third album, singer and bassist extraordinaire Meshell Ndegeocello, responsible for one of the best albums of 1996, Peace Beyond Passion, has turned down the funk and produced a wry, muted song cycle as precious and delicate as a teardrop. And tears are what Bitter is all about. Ndegeocello's songs here are focused on loss and heartbreak—ruminations on abandonment and callousness.
While the self-assured and sinuous Peace Beyond Passion concerned itself with social attitudes to sexuality, best exemplified by her ambiguous cover of Bill Withers' "Who Is He And What Is He To You," Bitter settles on longing, pain and humiliation for subject matter.
The result is an intriguingly muted and downbeat collections of songs. On the plaintive "Satisfy," the listener strains to hear Ndegeocello's whispered vocals. Her version of Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love" is so string-soaked and airy that it threatens to float away. The highlight, however, is "Wasted Time," a powerful duet with Joe Henry underpinned at first by industrial rhythms that ultimately blends steel guitar and jazzy drums in a unique, sonic mix. Henry is, of course, brother-in-law of Ndegeocello's label chief, Madonna and, like Ndegeocello, is a woefully underappreciated talent. An album not to be missed.
EAR POLLUTION
Hope Lopez
October 1999
Bitter, the long-awaited third release from musical phenom Meshell Ndegeocello presents musicianship as it should be: well-crafted songs that coincide with the contextual message of the lyrics and overall theme of the album. Ndegeocello, who started out playing bass for local Go-Go bands in the scene in D.C. has become a favorite solo artist and a multifaceted session player over the last several years in the music biz, playing with the likes of Joshua Redman, the Rolling Stones, Luis Conte, Eric Benét, Guru, Madonna and John Mellencamp to name a few. Unlike her terrific, funky and haughty first release Plantation Lullabies (1993) and the beautiful but didactic second album Peace Beyond Passion (1996), Bitter is a somber, melancholy and joyous package exploring the complexities of the emotions belying love, betrayal and loss. When broaching these topics, the end results usually sounds clichéd; but with Ndegeocello, the effect is poignant. Starting the disk off, the instrumental with somber, langorous strings "Adam" sets the tone of the album as introspective.
Ndegeocello's ability to capture the range of sadness is evident throughout this recording. "Fool of Me" is a reverse torch song. Delicate piano, light rhythm, Ndegeocello's rich vocals soft but with a message of self-contempt: "You made a fool of me, tell me why...you say you don't care?" The melancholic cynicism is heard in "Faithful" with its lyrics: "My daddy made no excuse/ I believe my lies are truth/ Why won't you eat what you are fed...no one is faithful, I am weak..." "Sincerity" and "Wasted Time" express equivocal relationships. "Beautiful," the lovely but moody cover of Hendrix's "May This Be Love," and "Grace" discuss the more fulfilling side of being in love. "Loyalty" has an old Stax sound with smooth guitar and Ndegeocello's punctuated singing: "Come be with me/ soothe my broken heart/ Show me loyalty." Bitter has a sincerity that keeps from being a sad and cynical record. It has the capacity to make you reflect as if you just heard a poet hit you with themes of universal relevance.
COLUMBUS DISPATCH
Rob Messinger
September 2, 1999
Returning to the ripe subjects of faith and faithfulness, Ndegeocello's third album is her most thoughtful. That's a compliment but also disappointing. Bitter lacks the strident politics and driving funk of the 1996 album Peace Beyond Passion; it offers none of the fire of Leviticus: Faggot.
Still, Ndegeocello has created a grand opus on hurtful relationships. One of many highlights, "Fool of Me," recounts a one-sided love affair: "I have allowed you to make me feel dumb/ What kind of fool am I that you so easily set me aside." Despite the album's title, the tone is less bitter than anguished. "Faithful" is a soulful ode about sin, while "Sincerity" tells the painful truth about a man too love-struck to see clearly.
Bitter represents Ndegeocello's softer side. The instrumental "Adam" opens the CD with a funereal cello arrangement an appropriate lead-in to an album of subdued moods, strolling tempos and jazzy guitar work. With the help of former Prince proteges Wendy & Lisa, Ndegeocello even slows down Jimi Hendrix's psychedelic ballad "May This Be Love," giving it a sleepy feel.
Ndegeocello has turned down the bass on Bitter, placing the focus on her husky insights. Though the mood is quiet, her emotional intensity is off the charts.
THE ONION AV
Stephen Thompson
August 1999
Meshell Ndegeocello has experienced dizzying hype, a left-field hit (singing alongside John Mellencamp on the 1994 Van Morrison cover "Wild Night"), a bit of a sophomore slump, and now, with Bitter, an outright masterpiece. Shedding the cumbersome song titles and heavy-handed ambitions of 1996's Peace Beyond Passion, Ndegeocello plays the part of lovestruck chanteuse throughout Bitter, and the results are characteristically dark and ambiguous. But the album is nowhere near the bleak drag some have claimed; if anything, it evolves from darkness to light, opening with heartbreak ("Fool Of Me") and closing with a celebration of redemption through love ("Grace"). In between, it's packed with highlights, from the playful "Satisfy" to the lovely ballads "Bitter" and "Beautiful," with only an unnecessary Jimi Hendrix cover ("May This Be Love") even approaching filler. Ndegeocello's trademark is her deft ability to radiate both femininity and masculinity, and to sound undeniably sexual and exposed in either role; it adds a layer of fearlessness to a collection of songs that were pretty gutsy to begin with. Masterfully produced and elegantly arranged at every turn, Bitter is one of 1999's bravest, truest, best albums.
COPLEY NEWS SERVICE
John Godfrey
September 6, 1999
Meshell Ndegeocello's Bitter is perfect for a rainy Sunday afternoon, but this is no easy-listening album. In fact, sorting through the complex arrangements and sophisticated lyrics is a bit like working your way through a classic piece of literature: If you skim along hurriedly, you'll miss the telling details and miss the point entirely.
Ndegeocello, a renowned bassist with two previous solo albums, merges soulful hooks with jazz instrumentation and pacing throughout this hypnotic 12-song collection. Together with an impressive lineup of musicians that includes Wendy Melvoin, Lisa Coleman, Joe Henry and Ronnie Drayton, Ndegeocello tells sparse, evocative tales brokenhearted lovers, lovers who are terrified of having their hearts broken again, among others. This is a smooth, graceful, intelligent record for anyone who's sick of smooth, graceful drivel from the likes of Mariah Carey and Michael Bolton.
Deliberate, insistent grooves dominate this record, particularly on the down-but-not-out strains of "Fool of Me," "Sincerity" and "Wasted Time." In each, a proudly defiant Ndegeocello stands up and serenades wounded lovers, encouraging them to go on, reminding them that the pain they feel is part of the deal. "Fool of Me," a dirge of a waltz, features little more than a drum kit and Ndegeocello's voice, and it is eye-opening in its simplicity. The more traditionally crafted "Sincerity" isn't quite so stark, but the singer's hushed asides give it a startling intimacy and honesty. And thanks to Joe Henry's off-kilter harmonies, "Wasted Time" is a haunting portrait of a doomed affair.
Don't play this one for 15 seconds at your Tower Records listening station and expect to be blown away. Bitter requires investment and struggle from your end, and if you're willing to take the time, you'll be grateful.
LAUNCH
Ken Micallef
August 24, 1999
On this resonant and luxurious album, Meshell Ndegeocello makes good on the promise of her celebrated 1993 debut, Plantation Lullabies. And then some. A wizened, but ultimately joyful rumination on the beauty, power, and pain of love, Bitter is so rich in harmony, so profuse in melody, it sounds like a life's work, not the third album by a very talented 30-year-old.
With organic production by Craig Street, Bitter begins with a swirling string quartet which sets the stage for this one-act love epic. "Fool of Me" starts wearily, like a heavy-hearted waltz of wounds, but Meshell's dark voice guides it slowly, surely to a place of tender, shimmering strength. The lyrics, "no one is faithful" fills the melancholy "Faithful," but so enchanting is its lush melody you forget its brutal sentiment. "Satisfy" recalls the Staple Singers in a bayou bump that is pure toes-in-the-mud joy. The sumptuous "May This Be Love" describes waterfalls and rainbows over a middle eastern string section, like Curtis Mayfield transported to India on a bed of flowers. The funky "Loyalty" describes a horny, happy couple desiring the good life.
By contrast, the sad title track is a loner's lament. But "Grace" closes Bitter with breezy honesty and relief, Meshell singing, "Can't say I've ever been faithful, except to God." It's an open-air, feel-good ending to this life-affirming gift of a recording.
WASHINGTON POST
Mark Jenkins
August 25, 1999
Bitter, the third release from Washington native Meshell Ndegeocello, is the sort of album that major labels aren't supposed to make these days: personal, downbeat, self-indulgent, short on hooks. Perhaps because she records for Maverick, Madonna's Warner Bros. imprint, the singer-bassist has been allowed to make a concept album about being dumped. Ndegeocello (or her A&R representative) probably hoped for something as distinctively bummed-out as Marvin Gaye's divorce epic, "Here, My Dear," but she didn't get it. Her anguish
may be unique, but the songs it inspired are cliched and self-indulgent.
The album's title song pretty much says it all, although tunes like "Fool of Me," "Wasted Time" and "Loyalty" say it again (and again). Accompanied by former Princelings Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman and a string section, Ndegeocello broods and purrs, alternately bemoaning and cajoling love. "I feel so dumb," she admits. "What kind of fool am I?" The titles of two instrumentals, "Adam" and "Eve," make the implicit claim that the singer's heartbreak is mythic and primal, but the music isn't striking enough to sell that premise. Ndegeocello's megalomania begins to seem justified only on the almost-lively final track, "Grace," where she contemplates two conflicting claims on her soul—those of a lover and of God. Instead of ending with this dispute, maybe this is where the album should have begun.
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NEWSWEEK
N'Gai Croal
September 6, 1999
* * * *
Great music makes critics whip out the cliches. Mesmerizing. Raw. Haunting. Album of the year. These jazz-tinged R&B tales of love and betrayal are so good, we'll let the cliches do the talking.
MESHELL NDEGEOCELLO
August 1999
Click here so she can share Bitter with you.
DENVER ROCKY MOUNTAIN NEWS
Mark Brown and Michael Mehle
December 26, 1999
It's hard to believe that a world that can embrace Lauryn Hill can continue to ignore Ndegeocello, especially with this brilliant slice of low-key R&B and angst. Not just the best album by a woman this year, but maybe this decade.
SEATTLE TIMES
Patrick Macdonald
August 26, 1999
Meshell Ndegeocello established herself as one of the most promising artists to emerge in the 1990s via stark, bracing songs like "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)" and hard-edged instrumentals that showed her brilliance on bass.
So her third album, Bitter, comes as a surprise. It's a smoky, simmering collection of atmospheric songs that have to do with peace, love and desire. The restlessness, frustration and anger that boiled beneath the surface of her previous work is nowhere to be found. Instead, she expresses regret, begs for forgiveness, seeks tranquility and desires love and sexual passion.
It's a startling transition that adds a new dimension to her artistry. She shows a whole new side that's strikingly different, but satisfying in its own way. The soft Ndegeocello turns out to be as fascinating as the tough one.
The change is apparent from the opening cut, an instrumental called "Adam" that's lush and somber, carried by sweet violins. It segues into the first song, "Fool of Me," in which she asks why a lover betrayed her. But she does so without rancor, because she is still in love with the betrayer—so in love, she sings, that she can "smell you in my dreams."
In the similar "Faithful" she is so in love with the object of her desire that she asks forgiveness, and calls herself "weak" for objecting to her lover's unfaithfulness. "No one is faithful," she determines, singing in a sweet, pleasant way.
Some of the tunes have a smoldering sexuality similar to early Prince songs, although they're not as explicit. "Satisfy" is a poetic celebration of sensual pleasure; "Sincerity" has to do with the joys of affection and foreplay; "Beautiful" is an extremely romantic appreciation of the human body.
The one cover song in the 12-cut, 48-minute album is Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love," which Ndegeocello interprets as a druggy, psychedelic trip, ending with a long, instrumental reverie.
"I never thought I'd fall in love," she sings in the last song, "Grace." Obviously, she has. It also seems as if she's become influenced by Eastern philosophy, perhaps Buddhism.
Ndegeocello shows her talent as a bassist, as she did on her previous two releases, although with lighter themes this time. And she's well served by the many guest artists, including Wendy & Lisa on guitars and keyboards, respectively, and rock guitarist Doyle Bramhall II.
BILLBOARD
September 4, 1999
A gifted, multifaceted musician with rock, R&B, and funk leanings, Meshell Ndegeocello has delighted in spreading her creative wings since she scored hits in 1994 with the sassy "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)" and her duet with John Mellencamp on Van Morrison's "Wild Night." Her latest album is a brilliant, fully realized work that encompasses her many musical loves, from the roots she has exposed in the past to gospel, jazz, folk, hip-hop, and chamber music.
Highlights include the sultry, jazzy strains of "Satisfy" and "Sincerity"; the string-accented, acoustic title-track ballad; and the groove-heavy, thought-provoking "Loyalty." More than a showcase for Ndegeocello's wide-ranging talents as a singer, writer, and musician, Bitter is a modern masterpiece that weaves together strains that only an open-minded, talented artist in the late '90s could have absorbed. Producer Craig Street, who has animated the work of Cassandra Wilson and others, helps the artist craft a fine work that shines for it's sonic presence as well as its inherent musical quality. An album that will delight fans, confound format-oriented programmers, and impress casual bystanders. A winner.
PULSE!
Ken Micallef
November 1999
* * * * *
With this equally forlorn and joyful muse on the power and pain of love, Meshell Ndegeocello finally makes good on the potential of her lauded debut, Plantation Lullabies. Bitter is so full of storytelling passion and flourishing melody, it sounds like a life's masterwork, not the third album by an accomplished 30-year-old. A string quartet sets the stage for this dramatic love poem, leading to the melancholy "Faithful," an enchanting, lush song that is so melodic it makes you forget it's cruel sentiment: "No one is faithful." "Satisfy" recalls the Staple Singers, while Ndegeocello's version of Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love" sounds like Curtis Mayfield jamming at the Taj Mahal. "Loyalty" describes a hot couple searching for happiness, but by contrast, "Bitter" is a loner's lament, a plea for love among the ruins of a relationship. "Grace" closes the album with a breeze of honesty and release, Ndegeocello singing, "Can't say I've ever been faithful, except to God." It may be called Bitter, but by the last track you'll be anything but.
ATLANTA JOURNAL & CONSTITUTION
Sonia Murray
August 19, 1999
Grade: A
If there's anything to be Bitter about after listening to this album, it's that this magnificent bass player isn't — noticeably anyway — playing. That aside, this is the third in a series of incredible, cohesive explorations of emotion by arguably the best thing to come out of R&B this decade, Meshell Ndegeocello. Stripped of the dense, lush arrangements that made predecessors Plantation Lullabies and Peace Beyond Passion so engaging, this nearly naked effort tugs at our hearts with prominent acoustic strings, coupled with Ndegeocello's usually strong writing. With each song she slowly fleshes out the inseparable insecurities (Fool of Me) and ecstasies (Satisfy) that come when you let someone in.
LAS VEGAS
October 15, 1999
Meshell Ndegeocello—known for her own outspokenness—is light years more mellow than Skunk Anansie, that's for sure. In fact, most of her material is a delightful blend of acoustic rock and mature R&B. The hook with Ndegeocello—besides her accomplished sound—is the honesty and vulnerability in her prose and voice. Even in her most disillusioned tracks, like the title track and "Faithful," she doesn't lose control of her feelings. Rather, she harnesses them with a gentle composition and yearning sincerity. A few moments are less dynamic and compelling than others, but overall, Bitter offers an earnest look at what makes people beautiful—and what makes them weak.
FORTUNE
Jeff Gordinier
September 6, 1999
People who got a buzz from the bass-thick grooves and
in-your-face polemics of Meshell Ndegeocello's two previous albums, Plantation Lullabies and Peace Beyond Passion, will get a mild shock when they hear Bitter. The album kicks off with an austere chamber suite, then ambles through a stark purgatory of heartbreak. In song after song, Ndegeocello digs into a mournful phrase — "You made a fool of me," "No one is faithful" — like a woman compulsively scratching an itch or trying to squeeze an ounce of consolation from a mantra. Setting aside her inclination for funk, she's put Bitter into the hands of Craig Street, a jazz and rock producer who's known for slowing down the pace, stripping away the extraneous sonic goop, and getting down to the raw essence of a song. When Street's approach works, as it has with Chris Whitley and Cassandra Wilson, the result is both naked and mysterious. It works beautifully on Bitter, although I bet that radio won't know what to do with it. While contemporary R&B has evolved into a pageant of strutting and preening, Ndegeocello has opted to try a little tenderness: The only thing on display is her aching heart.
PEOPLE
Steve Dougherty
September 13, 1999
The 31-year-old singer-songwriter and bassist makes a grand return with a moody, meditative album that recalls the resonant blues of Nina Simone. This time, Ndegeocello adds rich classical hues to her already shimmering palette.
ROLLING OUT
Isoul Harris
October 21, 1999
Meshell Ndegeocello's first album, Plantation Lullabies, was a refreshing mix of R&B, alternative rap and hip-hop expressing the notion that everything enslaving us is a plantation, including love. Peace Beyond Passion followed, serving as a musical illustration for her sincere, nevertheless conflicted, religious views. In a short time span, the talented musician and singer openly declared her bisexuality and taught genuine spirituality by advising us that God is within. Now, with her new opus, Bitter, she is tackling the infinite issue of love and inevitable heartbreak. Ndegeocello, Swahili for "free as a bird," lures us into her hip-hop-less new work with the somber, cello-driven instrumental piece "Adam." It's companion, "Eve" offers an intended contrast of emotions. "Fool Of Me" has an unwary Meshell wondering why she allowed herself to be manipulated. Never shying away from confrontation, she is apparently facing herself, trying to reclaim her dignity in the aftermath of a breakup. The dispirited "Faithful" questions monogamy and the fact that two have to commit: "Why won't you eat what you are fed/ Soiled by my lust I feel no shame." Reminiscent of her earlier work, "Satisfy" successfully balances blues, rock, and pop, creating an inebriating groove that's easily one of the best tracks in this collection. Bitter is not an ode to post-relationship despair, but an affirmation of the healing and joy that come shortly thereafter. A beacon of optimism, in this presumably dismal land, is "Loyalty": "You will never want for love/ You are my soul and I will always love you." Everything but bitter, this album is actually a celebration of the sour taste of love that must come before enjoying the sweet.
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Kevin C. Johnson
August 22, 1999
No one is ever going to accuse Meshell Ndegeocello of selling out. Though the singer/bassist has lamented the fact that her earthy soul music has yet to catch on outside of her small but loyal fan base, causing her once to announce that she'd record no more, she releases her least commercial and perhaps best CD yet in the solemn, low-key Bitter. The album's nearly singular groove makes it an extremely cohesive package, and songs sometimes flow right into the next, like the way the string-laden opening instrumental "Adam" pours into "Fool of Me." This happens here and other places despite ever-so-slight shifts in the pace. It's impossible to imagine any of these songs taken out of context as a single.
Ndegeocello, who either wrote or co-wrote all of the tunes on this smoky, soulful release, pens lyrics in such a confessional way one can't help feeling like some sort of voyeur listening to her address the highs and lows of a relationship(s). Early on the late-night-ready CD, Ndegeocello finds herself at the wrong end of a breakup, admitting she's weak on "Faithful" and looked at through harsh eyes on Bitter. Fortunately, she's ready to make things right late in the CD on " Loyalty" and "Grace." Whether these lyrics are her own life stories, those of people around her or total creations from her mind, they' re totally convincing. Vibe magazine called Bitter the album of the year a month before it was even released. It might be on to something.
CALGARY SUN
David Veitch
September 12, 1999
4/5
If the words and music on her third and latest album are to be taken at face value — and there's no reason to do otherwise — Ndegeocello has gone through a romantic breakup so explosive that it not only dislodged these 12 songs from her battered psyche but also has caused a seismic shift in her musical direction. The bass-popping funk on her first two discs is nowhere to be found. Instead, her tales of betrayal and infidelity are delivered in a deep, mahogany voice and played out to a mellow, jazzy blend of piano, organ, a string quartet and some lyrical guitar work, all of which recalls the smoky, soulful balladry of Cassandra Wilson.
VILLAGE VOICE
Carol Cooper
September 28, 1999
With Bitter, Meshell Ndegeocello issues a different sort of conceptual challenge. Instead of demanding that her listeners accept increased aural complexity, Ndegeocello simplifies and softens her arrangements. The result is an entire album so ambient and elegantly subtle that it evokes the "furniture music" of Erik Satie, Meshell's vocals are more subdued-muted than on previous recordings, but otherwise retain their reedy tone and texture. Her lyrics, still sensual and deeply intimate. The innovation here is that a blues mood is still in effect, but its typical intensity is gone. Keyboard colors reminiscent of Gershwin or Ellingtonian tone poems float through the aural landscape. Orchestral strings replace Meshell s usual thumping bass. If a typical R&B singer tackled a song like "Fool of Me," he or she would vividly telegraph the emotions suggested by the lyric; mountains of outrage or oceans of callous indifference would tumble out, over stinging guitar and thunderous lack drum. But on Bitter, Meshell flips the script on r&b's emotive accelerator. She reconstructs R&B around an emotional damper that replaces 100-year-old stereotypes of uncontrolled rage and sensual abandon with modern realities of quiet desperation and sexual timidity. With the bare minimum of structural retooling, Ndegeocello updates the psychosexual context of R&B from 1899 to 1999.
NEW YORK BEACON
Steve Stancell
September 1, 1999
In keeping with the spirit of my column, a column that brings you all the music that I'm digging, and that you should be picking up—a column that, when talking about a Black artist, talks about those Black artists that do more than "booty songs" (if they do them at all), as this artist I'm going to talk about refers to the genre—in keeping with the spirit of this column, I bring you the latest work of Meshell Ndegeocello, titled Bitter.
Although she's known to the public, and my circle of musician peers, as one of the baddest bass players out here, Ndegeocello is also an excellent writer of lyrics, and she continues doing that on this work, which is basically a collection of jazz, soul and funk oriented ballads.
One thing about Ndegeocello's love/relationship songs as far as lyrics go, is that they are very real, and seem autobiographical—either autobiographical to you, or autobiographical to someone else's life you may know about. That's what I mean by autobiographical. You will find her in top form herein that respect.
There are cuts with string arrangements, which are reminiscent of Beatles' producer George Martin's string scores and production for that group. (Productions here is by Craig Street. On this work, he also apparently has a predilection for the kick drum, production-wise.) Bitter is a fine work of art, and some of the guests on here include Wendy & Lisa, known for their work with The Artist Formerly Known As Prince.
EDMONTON SUN
Mike Ross
September 4, 1999
4/5
If she's trying to blow off all the fans who think she's the funk queen of the galaxy, the unpronounceably brilliant Meshell Ndegeocello has succeeded—this thing is a sleeper.
If, however, you're in the right mood—relaxing on the beach, say—this gorgeous collection of soul ballads can be utterly captivating.
The mean funk rhythms in Meshell's previous work are absent. In their place are haunting sounds—most notably a real string quartet and spine-tingling vocals—on melancholy, meaningful songs. The title track is chilling as a breakup anthem told from the point of view of the dumper. Other highlights include "Loyalty," the tale of callow young love, and "Fool of Me." She beautifully covers Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love" and even experiments with Chinese instruments on "Eve."
For those looking for faster, harder, more urban influences in R&B, look elsewhere. This artist stands alone—quietly.
MUSIC CONNECTION
Al Black
October 11-24, 1999
9/10
On this, her third album, singer/ multi-instrumentalist Ndegeocello takes a musical stance that's softer and more pared-down than it's been on previous projects. Busy bass grooves and riffs have been replace with muted arrangements and delicate instrumentation. Most of the album's tracks tell of love turned sour — the singer takes her pain and transforms it into tunes of harrowing beauty, melding simple, honest lyrics with ethereal, haunting melodies.
BLACK RADIO EXCLUSIVE
February 11, 2000
Meshell continues to be one of the most brilliant, yet underappreciated artists of her generation. One has to figure all the years of mainstream media forever playin' her to the curb has taken their toll, so she plunged headlong into uncompromising creative expression. The result, Bitter, is probably one of the most genuine, subtle and ambitious of her career. This album is not for the intellectually weak or the emotionally facile, hence any radio single to recommend. Then again, maybe Meshell realized she's too good for that. And I'd concur.
CINCINNATI POST
Ken Wilson
August 26, 1999
Meshell Ndegeocello returns with a third album that isn't nearly as feisty or socially controversial as her last outing, but with its
moody material and the artist's willingness to shun commercialism, proves she's surely an independent spirit. Immediately Bitter attracts the curious as the singer-songwriter sidesteps her trademark bass-based funk, soul, jazz and rock concoctions. The album's title sets the emotional and musical tone for its 12 compositions.
The set is often compelling and its appeal comes from elaborate arrangements. Former Prince cohorts Lisa Coleman on piano and Wendy Melvoin's acoustic guitar assistance along with orchestrated strings on standouts like "Satisfy" and the jazzy "Sincerity," give the effort a textured richness not previously demonstrated by Ndegeocello.
Although emotional pain sweeps over this set—characterized by exploration of confusing territory that includes trust, love and commitment—Ndegeocello shows everyone they don't have to wallow in hurt feelings. Instead, people can use the strength gained from each experience to build a better future. That's not a bad message.
GAB
dg
October 13-19, 1999
Grade: A
Meshell drops the booty movin' political tunes for a serious and sublime approach on her third full length release, Bitter. A slow burner of twelve pieces full of acoustic soul, inspired by love hoped for, love found, and love lost. Props to Craig Street (Cassandra Wilson, k.d. Lang) for another smooth as glass production credit and to the girl herself as she proves once again she is not only a singer with the true passion but also as a songwriter full of depth and unapologetic honesty. Highlights: the elegant strings that flow through the groove "Satisfy" and a sparse variation of Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love." One for a night of pure soul, soul-searching, or making out.
BAY AREA METROACTIVE
Christine Brenneman
August 30, 1999
Grooving along at a soulful and soothing pace, Meshell Ndegeocello's third album, Bitter, is pure aural delight. Mellowness rules supreme here; even with seemingly heavy-handed song titles like "Faithful," "Loyalty" and "Grace," Ndegeocello lets the simple orchestrations carry the listener through songs about love and redemption. The whispery, restrained intensity of her voice takes center stage throughout, leaving her signature bass somewhat understated. Lovely string arrangemanets show up on several tracks, and her positively delicious version of Hendrix's "May This Be Love" offers a fresh perspective on the classic tune. Although some may compare her to Tracy Chapman, Ndegeocello achieves a purer form of honesty without the commercial aspirations.
MINNESOTA DAILY
Hannah Kuhlman
Issue 35, 1999
Grade: 9/10
The next time somebody breaks your heart, it'd be a good idea to have Bitter around to accompany your descent into misery. On this, her third album, Meshell Ndegeocello couples frank, tender lyrics with gorgeously layered guitar arrangements. Bitter glows with a warm sensuality, and Ndegeocello's rich, unassuming alto lends a sultry edge to even the saddest song.
Ndegeocello's willing vulnerability brings Bitter's strongest moments. "Fool Of Me" lays delicate piano over thrumming bass, while lyrics like "You say that you don't care but we made love/Tell me why" tell of a relationship that was DOA. The title track takes a confessional turn, as Ndegeocello tells of her futile attempts at damage control after cheating. Mournfully pulsing guitar surrounds her description: "My apologies fall on your deaf ears/You curse my name bitterly."
Two disappointingly impersonal tracks, "Sincerity" and "Loyalty," interrupt this potent lyrical intimacy. Inexplicably, Ndegeocello breaks her own poetic groove with this pair of distanced, third-person narratives. Thankfully, the album's deeply personal tone returns with the sweet murmuring of "Beautiful"—a brief, shimmering glimpse of the love Ndegeocello spends the majority of the album longing for.
Bitter offers no false comfort to its listeners. Ndegeocello sounds as if she's learned firsthand that love hurts like hell, and her genuine lyrics hold none of that pain back. In this case, a dose of brutal honesty is just what the doctor ordered.
NORWAY DAGBLADET
August 24, 1999
Meshell Ndegeocello går sine egne veier. Innimellom kan de synes en smule uransakelige, men Madonnas musikalske øyestein er aldri ute på tur. Til det er Meshell for elegant, for stilsikker, for briljant forførende. Bitter er hennes første album på tre lange år. Debuten Plantation Lullabies (1993) var nominert til fire Grammy-priser, og amerikanske kritikere utropte Ndegeocello til et av 90-tallets store musikalske håp. Selv om Bitter viser at spådommen var noe i overkant, har plata absolutt kvaliteter. Sjekk ut "May This Be Love," "Fool Of Me" og "Satisfy." Selv om Meshell har et opplagt KD Lang-kompleks låter hun alt annet enn bitter.
BOSTON PHOENIX
Michael Endelman
September 13, 1999
Comparing Meshell Ndegeocello to a jazz diva like Cassandra Wilson wouldn't have made much sense a few years ago. But Ndegeocello's latest is a soothing, restrained effort that casts the bassist/singer/songwriter in an entirely different light. The mainstays of her first two albums—the righteous funk bass, freaky wah-wah guitars, and biting racial commentator—have disappeared in favor of string arrangements, acoustic guitar, and a hushed romantic mood. And Craig Street, who's produced Cassandra Wilson, handles the duties here; his touches include soaring pedal steel, plush drum tones, and shimmering guitar, and he gives the album a sense of grace that eases Ndegeocello's transformation from avant-funkstress to Adult Alternative. Song titles like "Beautiful," "Loyalty," and "Satisfy" tell you that the tone will be soft and the arrangements spacious and luxurious. As for the album title, it's a misnomer—even the moody "Wasted Time" (a spellbinding duet with Joe Henry) leaves you with a sweet taste.
LE FIGARO
Jacques Doucelin & Bertrand Dicale
September 3, 1999
On serait sur un lit, un violon jouerait un motif indien, une fontaine bruirait tres loin, la ville serait etale, le son d'un orgue Hammond viendrait d'au-dessus, passant par un mystere de tuyauteries. Le nouveau disque de Meshell Ndegeocello ressemble a ce que serait une vision organique d'une fin d'apres-midi urbaine, dans la chaleur et l'attente. Il y est question de grace, de beaute, de loyaute, de satisfaction, de tout un monde dont la vie eclate en meme temps qu'elle semble ramper sous une peau retive. Funk ? Parfois, bien sur, puisque c'est le port d'attache de Meshell Ndegeocello, chanteuse et bassiste a la carriere passionnante. Mais aussi une musique en liberte, comme chez nous un compromis de Murat, Katerine et Manset : le son, les instruments, les structures renversent jazz, rock, musique illustrative, pop, soul, blues. Sombre et neanmoins heureux, un disque race, d'une radieuse sagesse.
PHILADELPHIA CITY PAPER
Jannifer Carey
July 29-August 5, 1999
The songs on Meshell Ndegeocello’s third album, Bitter, probably won’t be banned from MTV as previous ones have. Lyrics about abused homosexuals, drug addicts, prostitutes and "confused" black men dating white women are gone, replaced with a heartfelt return to L-O-V-E. Utilizing a mixture of Middle Eastern sitars, cymbals, acoustic guitar, violins and piano solos, her works on Bitter transcend the average sap-filled love tunes. Beginning with haunting strings on the opening instrumental, "Adam," Ndegeocello travels the relationship expanse, moving from the melancholy of infidelity on "Fool of Me" to love’s ugly side on the acoustic, guitar-backed title track. She discusses dishonesty amid hypnotic rhythms on "Sincerity" and then exalts love on the simply arranged "Grace." She emphasizes her vocal talents, which have often gone unnoted or been eclipsed by her immense bass-playing abilities. While this effort is a distinct trip into uncharted musical territory, her clever dispersion of beautiful and dreamy melodies woven effortlessly among cutting lyrics compels you to refrain from lumping this one in with the mushy puff peddlers.
HOUSTON CHRONICLE
Joey Guerra
August 29, 1999
* * *
Meshell Ndegeocello has never played by other people's rules. Since the release of her debut album, 1993's Plantation Lullabies, the soulful singer has explored sexual ideals, challenged racism, and fashioned a searing, if not necessarily commercial, career of her blend of funk, rock, pop and hip-hop.
Ndegeocello's biggest hits, "If That's Your Boyfriend" ("He Wasn't Last Night") and "Wild Night," a duet with John Mellencamp, were rhythmic, playful affairs. That's not the case with Bitter, Ndegeocello's third album and follow-up to 1996's Peace Beyond Passion, a concept album about the battle between Christianity and a sense of self.
Don't be fooled, though: Bitter is lush and fluid, playing out like one long, languid exploration of the many facets of love. Pianos and strings caress Ndegeocello's honey-kissed voice like longtime lovers, swaying together and pulling away at just the right moments.
Ndegeocello sings of a disintegrating affair on the gorgeous "Fool of Me;" love in vain on "Sincerity;" and joyous, rapturous feelings on the hypnotic "Beautiful." She maneuvers effortlessly from song to song, the change in viewpoint more natural than the usual assemblage of random tracks used to fill an album.
While Ndegeocello's voice often falls just above a whisper throughout Bitter, it doesn't need to be any louder. Sometimes the smallest phrasings have the greatest effect.
The record company reportedly was unhappy with Ndegeocello's work on the album, urging her to go back to the drawing board and come up with something that sounded more like a radio single. If that means sounding like Foxy Brown or Faith Evans, no thanks. We'll take Meshell just the way she is: bold, breathtaking and often beautiful.
VANCOUVER SUN
Marke Andrews
October 1998
Both simple and complex: Meshell Ndegeocello has an unpredictability that makes each new recording an event. The singer-songwriter-bassist opens Bitter with a minor-key instrumental performed by a string group, a moody intro to a darkly introspective collection of songs containing lyrical darts aimed straight at the heart.
"No one is faithful," she sings in "Faithful," a song with a goosebumps-raising guitar solo by Ronnie Drayton, while the chorus for "Sincerity" tells us that, "He loves with sweetness and sincerity/ While she can only pretend." The nihilism of these two songs is offset by tunes of hope: "Beautiful," with its softly caressing piano and acoustic guitar, and "Satisfy," a near-ecstatic testament to a partner (or, as the songwriter maintains, to God).
Ndegeocello is a master of juggling darkness and light, and this may be her most complex recording yet. Some credit goes to Craig Street, ace producer responsible for Cassandra Wilson's best records, who surrounds Ndegeocello's voice with strings and muted percussion (Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love," one of two non-original compositions, has an almost Buddhist quality of simplicity and complexity intertwined).
ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT-GAZETTE
Ellis Widner
September 17, 1999
A
Bitter is the most compelling and moving album on romance, the breakup and its aftermath since Joni Mitchell's Blue. Meshell Ndegeocello steps away from the funky grooves of her two previous albums in favor of a subdued, organic, almost chamber music approach. It's one that well serves these searing, meditative takes on love, faith, fidelity and passion. Despite the title, the album ends with cautious hope for the future on the graceful balm of the melodic "Grace." She may be singing for herself, but Ndegeocello touches all of us who have loved and lost, but still hope to win. Soulful and soul-baring.
SAN DIEGO UNION-TRIBUNE
Karla Peterson
February 10, 2000
The problem with being a revolutionary is that sometimes, the revolution goes on without you. That seems to be the current fate of Meshell Ndegeocello, who was so far ahead of the musical curve, she fell right off the edge.
And what an untimely tumble that was. Thanks to some ear-catching albums from newcomers Angie Stone, Macy Gray and Kelis, soul music is having itself a renaissance. Compact discs are being sold, articles are being written and radio airplay is materializing. Last week, soul music accomplished the near-impossible. "Voodoo," the new album from D'Angelo, actually knocked Santana's "Supernatural" off the top of Billboard's album charts.
Yes, it's a grand time to be an old-school soul singer. As long as you're not an old-school soul singer with a bad case of the blues.
Last year, Ndegeocello released Bitter, her first album in three years and only her third overall. Produced by Craig Street, the man behind Cassandra Wilson's genre-bending soul-jazz excursions, Bitter should have been the triumphant return of a perennial critics' darling. Instead, it was more of a pop-culture afterthought.
As dark and brooding as its title, Bitter was welcomed by distinctly mixed reviews and less-than-impressive sales. And all the people who were stumbling after the likes of Lauryn Hill and Missy Elliott proceeded to step right over the woman who helped pave the way.
Since her debut album, Plantation Lullabies, was released in 1993, Ndegeocello has done her share of groundbreaking. As the first female artist signed to Madonna's Maverick label, the singer, songwriter and ace bass player predated Alanis Morissette. As a very open bisexual—her first single was the sly "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)"—she was on the forefront of the sexual-orientation wars. (For more on that front, check out the searing "Leviticus: Faggot" on 1996's Peace Beyond Passion album.)
Before Missy was revamping Whitney Houston and Lauryn was producing Aretha Franklin, Ndegeocello was working with John Mellencamp and Chaka Khan. Before Lauryn, Angie and Eve were setting consciousness-raising lyrics to rump-moving grooves, Ndegeocello was talking about racism, homophobia and single parenthood while blending soul, funk and rock into a multicultural musical stew.
It is always a blow when good things do not happen to worthy artists. But in this case, the loss is all ours. Released last August, Ndegeocello's Bitter is a beautiful, wrenching meditation on love, sex and loss. It isn't particularly funky, which could be partly responsible for its lack of commercial success. It is sad and subdued, which didn't help, either. But it deserves to be heard, and if you're a music lover, you deserve to hear it.
Dubbed "brilliant" and "fully realized" by Billboard magazine, Bitter takes a musical and emotional journey that could tax weak hearts and timid ears. From the mournful, opening strains of the all-instrumental "Adam" through the slow-burning "Fool of Me," the delicate cover version of Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love" the folkie blessing of "Grace," Ndegeocello's album traverses many musical boundaries, all in the name of killing the pain.
Sometimes, the songs are a balm; sometimes, they just give new life to old wounds. But they never settle for being just one thing or the other. Love is a mixed bag, and Bitter captures the kaleidoscope of post-breakup emotions in all their manic-depressive beauty.
You made a fool of me/ Tell me why, Ndegeocello sings in "Fool of Me," making the simple question sound as complicated as it really is. Whether she is confessing (No one is faithful/ I am weak/ I go astray, she sings in the hushed "Faithful") or venting (You are much too busy to notice me/ You turn and walk away, she mutters in "Wasted Time"), Ndegeocello knows how to cut to the chase.
There isn't much lyrical padding here, and sometimes the no-frills devastation is very hard to take. But even as Ndegeocello's lyrics prick and stab, the rich, textured music swaddles the heartbreak like a security blanket. (Or, given Ndegeocello's sophistication, a security pashmina.) "Fool of Me" is awash in raindrop keyboards and windswept drums; the elegant "Faithful" features a rippling piano and a rip-snorting electric-guitar solo; and "Loyalty" is a robust blend of bittersweet soul and gospel salvation.
Your love is my only saving grace, Ndegeocello sings on "Grace," and while it can hurt to hear it, Bitter has curative powers to spare. It is soul music in the best, most nourishing sense of the word. The revolution may have passed Meshell by, but with Bitter, her glory train rides on. Don't let it leave without you.
UNIVERSITY OF CHIAGO FREE-PRESS
Michael Yarbrough
October 1999
Meshell Ndegeocello is either brave or stupid. When she burst on the scene with 1993’s Plantation Lullabies, she was fierce and funky. She had fucked your boyfriend and written a song about it in the afterglow. Her sing-song rap-speak sat atop one of the phattest bass guitars ever recorded, a bass so rubbery and distinctive it became as much a part of her mythos as her bald head and bisexuality.
On Peace Beyond Passion (1996) she traded the Curtis Mayfield references for Marvin Gaye ones and moved from the projects into church, but those bouncy bass lines still didn’t relax. The album was lusher—sure, more soul than hip-hop—but it still was funky. It seemed clear that these ‘90s reworkings of ‘70s motifs would become Meshell’s territory (and no one else’s), and that she would spend many fertile years exploring their grooves and crannies.
But instead she got Bitter.
The guitars on Bitter are steel, not bass. Notes are slurred, not scooped. Sounds are echoed, not electrified.
“There’s comfort in melancholy,” Joni Mitchell once sang, and Bitter often brings to mind that idea (as well as much of Mitchell’s other ’70s work). Produced by Craig Street of Cassandra Wilson fame, Bitter sets Ndegeocello’s mournful melodies amidst acoustic guitar strums and cautious piano lines. The opening instrumental track (an Ndegeocello tradition) immediately sets the tone. On her first two records Ndegeocello started with moody, laid-back tracks, and Bitter is no different. But the melancholy of a synthesizer is different from the melancholy of a cello, and this, we will soon discover, is a cello kind of record.
It’s also, in the laid-back NPR sense of the word, a rock record. The rhythms of Ndegeocello’s instruments and voice do not roll like the soul of her previous work. The beats are straighter (though by no means “whiter”) and fit more comfortably alongside the work of a Tracy Chapman or k.d. lang than a Chaka Khan or a Dusty Springfield. Most emblematic of this shift is the “duet” with rootsy singer-songwriter Joe Henry on “Wasted Time,” a brilliant sublimation of the most slightly hip-hop beat under those steel guitars and two disconnected vocals by the collaborators. The first duet I’ve heard in which the vocalists are not singing to, or even with, each other, it sounds as if they simply recorded their lines in separate studios, with neither cooperation nor self-conscious dissonance. The effect is a startling, disorienting and eerie magnification of the lyrics, themselves bitterly confrontating the mistakes of lover and self.
The shift on this record is not just sonic, it is lyrical as well. Bitter lyrically often recalls the transition of Mitchell’s masterpiece Blue (1971), in which she started to jettison the curlicue lyrics of her early, folkier albums for words more plain-spoken but full of depth. Ndegeocello has similarly started to move away from the more pungent, imagistic prose of her early songs for direct and declarative examination. Nobody on Bitter “shoots up Africa” in their veins like they did on Plantation or morphs into “gigantic black butterflies” as on Passion. Instead they just ask, “You made a fool of me / Tell me why” and confess “Can’t say I’ve ever really been faithful / Except to God.” Ndegeocello does not quite reach the complexity of Mitchell’s best work here, but she does brush near its immediacy.
This record is raw in a way Ndegeocello’s earlier work never could be, masterful though it was, because now she strips every unnecessary embellishment in a tireless search for the music’s core. Arguably one of the best bassists to pick up the instrument, Ndegeocello could have chosen to rest on the laurels of funk for years to come, continuing to produce accomplished and increasingly predictable records. But as Mitchell did when she added bass (in the form of Jaco Pastorius) on her 1976 album Hejira, Ndegeocello moves forward, unflinching, by removing it.
One brave woman, that Meshell.
TIME
Christopher John Farley
September 13, 1999
Bassist, singer, sometime hip-hopper Meshell Ndegeocello created a wake-up call in her first album, Plantation Lullabies, brimming with funk and flavor and attitude. Her new CD, Bitter, is more of a good-night kiss, slow, atmospheric and a bit weepy. Bitter, which features narcoleptic production by Craig Street, has carefully structured songs and cautious vocals, but it lacks Ndegeocello's edginess and verve. The songs are about breakups and betrayal, but the emotion is buried. This album feels like that uncomfortable pause in an argument when there's nothing left to say or throw or do but sit quietly, crying tears of rage.
HARTFORD COURANT
Neal McGarity
September 2, 1999
Hurry, somebody put Meshell Ndegeocello on suicide watch—Bitter is an album so bleak, it makes Bruce Springsteen's "Nebraska" seem like a K-Tel party record.
At least the title can pass the truth-in-advertising test. If you were hoping for more adventurous R&B from Ndegeocello—who burst on the scene in 1994 wielding a bass so fresh and wicked, the Stones and Mellencamp just had to have her services—look elsewhere. Her marvelous bass talents are almost completely missing here.
It's clear within the first five minutes of "Bitter" that Ndegeocello is intent on leading a sour march through the territory of broken dreams. The instrumental opener, "Adam," is about 100 miles to the left of R&B—it sounds like an Aaron Copland piece with bongos. Unfortunately, the opener only paves the way to a deeper and stranger musical abyss. "Fool of Me" follows with a very heavy-handed serving of blame, and by the third track, the funereal "Faithful," you'll be depressed, too, as Ndegeocello raises the stupefying thought, "I believe my lies are truth."
Though Bitter attempts to explore ambitious life themes about loyalty, faith, love and beauty, it instead commits the mortal sin of dullness.
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IDAHO PRESS-TRIBUNE
Chereen Myers
October 8, 1999
Without question, Bitter is one of the best albums to emerge in 1999. Ndegeocello has created an emotional masterpiece that touches on the most profound human experiences: love, faith, loyalty, and beauty.
"Fool Of Me" is a tender, mournful song about loss. Ndegeocello's velvety vocals bring emotions to the surface as she sings "You made a fool of me, tell me why."
Each song has outstanding, haunting qualities, and the album reflects a true intimacy. Sort of like reading someone's journal, Bitter is a beautiful look into someone's soul.
On "Sincerity," Ndegeocello stretches her legs as a storyteller. The tune tells the story of a man's deep love for a woman who is disloyal: "He loves with sweetness and sincerity/ While she may only pretend/ He caresses the hair from her face/ Thinks to himself such a lovely face/ Gives his entire self/ Shares his secrets/ But it's all in vain/ his love for her drowns him in a sea of denial/ The fear of being alone/ Will it keep her there."
Although most tracks have a graceful, slow style, "Loyalty" lends a more upbeat quality and also features some tasty songwriting: "Come be with me/ soothe by broken heart/ show me loyalty." It's a traditional boy-meets-girl story about two souls who meet and face their fears in order to be in love: "When they made love/ begged each other just don't betray me."
It's hard to set the songwriting aside, because it's so remarkable, but Bitter also possesses rock-solid musicianship and — perhaps most noteworthy — Ndegeocello's smooth vocal style. Her voice has a soulful, rich quality that is at once delicate and bold.
Bitter outshines Ndegeocello's previous releases, which seems impossible when you consider the quality of her last two recordings. It is highly recommended for anyone who appreciates beautiful songwriting wrapped in a stunning vocal package.
LA WEEKLY
Ernest Hardy
December 31 - January 6, 2000
Best album of the year.
NEWSDAY
Richard Torres
December 26, 1999
On this album's 12 agonizingly intimate tunes, bassist-vocalist-songwriter Ndegeocello achieves a perfect synthesis of Nina Simone meets Joni Mitchell. The best deep-in-the-night album of the year.
CDNOW
LiRon Anderson-Bell
June 13, 2000
Click here to read the full review.
SALON
Alex Pappademas
September 10, 1999
Click here to read the full review.
ROLLING STONE
Robert Christgau
RS 818
* * * ½
Give Meshell Ndegeocello credit for following her druthers. The third album of her six-year career could conceivably become a cult item, even a major hit. But Bitter ignores the art funk that made her famous so thoroughly that I can't imagine she worried about its commercial prospects. Although the music is slow and confessional, with Lisa Coleman's piano overwhelming Ndegeocello's bass, it's nowhere near as static and stolid as the Roberta Flack and Tracy Chapman it evokes. Unprepossessing at first, the melodies steadily gain resonance as the arrangements flower out into a jazz-like responsiveness. And the worst you can say about the lyrics is that in this context, "to wish for wine in her empty kiss" packs some wallop. Every one of these songs is about love, usually love thwarted by psychological disability. But the observation is stark and the music felt enough to render them vivid sketches rather than a new bunch of tales from the woe-is-me factory.
USA TODAY
Steve Jones
August 24, 1999
* * * ½
One of the things that has made Ndegeocello one of music's most intriguing artists has been her determination to follow her own muse rather than commercial trends. Love is the connecting thread of this 12-song set, and, as the title suggests, it's not always easy. But instead of giving us another litany of you-broke-my-heart complaints, she gets at the roots of pain and betrayal and sometimes speaks to the foundation of happiness. The mostly acoustic set is not as funky as her previous offerings — 1993's Plantation Lullabies and 1996's Peace Beyond Passion — but if you take time to listen, it is no less engaging.
DETROIT FREE PRESS
Michelle Solomon
January 25, 2000
* * * *
Bassist-singer-songwriter Meshell Ndegeocello has always worn her heart on her sleeve. Most times, though, it was political proverbs
she was pooh-poohing. Here, though, Ndegeocello pours her heart out about love, God, loyalty, loss and satisfaction. Basically, Bitter is about personal strife. She's no wilted flower, no crybaby. There's determination behind the bitterness. Ndegeocello has never been one to give up. Her lyrics are forceful and, above that, so is the music.
The album was produced by Craig Street (Cassandra Wilson and k.d. lang), and it bears that stamp. Yet with the musicianship
Ndegeocello possesses, it's bulkier than easy listening. Think Joan Armatrading.
Standouts include the jazz-soaked "Faithful," the serene "Satisfy" and the meditative "Bitter" (with luscious acoustic guitar work by Prince alumnus Wendy Melvoin).
If you're looking for the funk that was ever present in Ndegeocello's previous two albums (1996's Peace Beyond Passion and her debut, 1993's Plantation Lullabies), you'll be at a loss here. But don't turn your back on Bitter.
SAN FRANCISCO BAY GUARDIAN
Dave Pehling
December 8-15, 1999
A serious departure from the hard-hitting grooves and social commentary of her earlier work, but it packs a much heavier emotional wallop. An achingly personal suite of ballads about betrayal and love lost, the album bares Ndegeocello's soul over a bed of understated string arrangements and acoustic guitars, recalling some of Al Green's most languid, heartrending moments.
BALTIMORE CITY PAPER
Vincent Williams
December 15-21, 1999
On Ndegeocello's third album, she infuses songs of pain and sorrow with so much emotion and intimacy that listening almost feels like eavesdropping.
REQUEST
Geoffrey Himes
October 1999
93/100 = A+
The last part of Meshell Ndegeocello's name is "cello," and she has fallen in love with the instrument and the wine-colored bruise it leaves on songs of disappointment. In fact, she's fallen so hard that she's largely abandoned the funk grooves of her first two albums for the chamber-pop of Bitter. Like Brian Wilson's jump from The Beach Boys Today to Pet Sounds or Prince's shift from 1999 to Around The World In A Day, Ndegeocello's move will disappoint her radio audience, but delight her headphone fans.
She uses a string quartet, Prince alumna Wendy and Lisa, and a tasteful rhythm section to create the thickened but intimate harmonies that seem to go with fresh heartbreak. And Ndegeocello's songs capture that period right after a breakup when every pore in your skin becomes an antenna for hurt and hope. Whether regretting "Wasted Time" with a lover who made a "Fool Of Me," or seeking a new love that will "Satisfy" with "Loyalty," the songwriting is dead-on accurate, and the vocals have the wounded tenderness such feeling demand. Ndegeocello has gone from being a Bride of Funkenstein to being a newly single Joan Armatrading.
GIRLFRIENDS
Jenny Pritchett
December 1999
Grade: A
At some point, somewhere along the line, someone did Meshell Ndegeocello wrong. Really wrong. Since Plantation Lullabies, her first album in 1993, the bisexual bass behemoth's refrain has been "All I ever wanted was a niggah to be true." On the new Bitter, she gives up pain as a subtext and capitalizes instead on themes of disloyalty and longing. With an ease that comes of honesty, Ndegeocello makes bitter sound like the most beautiful thing to be.
Bitter contains much less funk than her earlier work as it moves through a seemingly endless lyric. Beyond the orchestral opening, Ndegeocello moves through lines such as "You made a fool of me" and "No one is faithful" to the sunnier "Only you satisfy me" and "Your love is my saving grace."
The title piece, "Bitter," is one of a few songs that focus less on lyrics and more on instrumentation. In an August 27 concert at San Francisco's Justice League, Ndegeocello made no excuse for her sudden switch from the political to the personal, which she seems to express less through words than music; she jammed out relentlessly on sample tracks from the new album. At that particular show, so many fans were packed in and the stage lights so hot that Ndegeocello asked that all lights be turned off, and finished the concert in blackness. Fitting, as this remarkably complete work demands the attention that darkness brings.
The influence of Jimi Hendrix has always been apparent in Ndegeocello's penchant for speaking her lyrics in that unmistakable, deep and sultry voice. On this album she does a floating cover of "May This Be Love." The song contributes to the storytelling nature of the album, and bridges the split between titles such as the opening "Adam," "Fool of Me" and "Bitter," to "Sincerity," "Loyalty," "Beautiful" and the second orchestral, "Eve."
The unified, even collective feel to Meshell's musicians contributes to Bitter's coming off as one long story. As Ndegeocello told Chicago's Outlines in a July 7 interview, "I wanted to have the same group of musicians on each song. We were like a band." The only old faces from Plantation Lullabies and Peace Beyond Passion are a featured percussionist on one track, Daniel Sadownick and Wendy Melvoin, who plays bass and guitars. (Yes, that's Wendy of Wendy and Lisa from early Prince fame, and Lisa Coleman is along to play piano.) Ndegeocello uses a new producer, Craig Street, as well, although she did enlist the help of her former producer, David Gamson.
Although this album uses far more R&B than the funk she usually whips out of her bass guitar, Ndegeocello's performance of these songs—live and in the studio is as passionate as anything she's ever done. For Meshell fans, this album feels like a walk into the other side of her heart. Yes, this Bible-story-twisting, word-spitting, "If-that's-your-boyfriend-he-wasn't-last-night" artist has a big old heart full of hurt and love and yearning. And in the tailspin of late 1990s pop and dance music,
Ndegeocello pulls off something her funk-loving fan base hasn't seen before, with no foreseeable resistance: slow songs, with violins, looping lyrics, and lots of love. It's confusing, because bitterness is not usually associated with anything less than anger. With the album's sudden transcendent ending, "Grace," listeners walk away with the thought, "Hey, she doesn't sound bitter."
That is, if they walk away at all. That's hard to do with this soothing, rhythmic and altogether successful album.
MIAMI HERALD
Howard Cohen
September 10, 1999
Like Blue, Joni Mitchell's classic 1971 confessional LP of love and loss, Ndegeocello's hushed and finely textured third album details life's deeper themes—faith, forgiveness, loyalty—using love relationships as a base.
Ndegeocello largely eschews the brazen sexual politics of her first album (1993's Plantation Lullabies) for a more reflective view of partners disengaging and the splendor of intimacy. The old-school funk of her stellar second effort Peace Beyond Passion (1996) is also abandoned in favor of a liquid, largely acoustic jazz-like instrumental skeleton of soft guitars, gentle piano and a small string section upon which Ndegeocello bares her soul. Fans of Ndegeocello's distinctive bass-playing heard on previous releases may initially be put off by Bitter's" stark tone—her bass is a bit player here—but Bitter rewards repeated listens.
Though the biblical allusions dominating Peace are less overt on Bitter, Ndegeocello titles two contrasting instrumentals "Adam" and "Eve." One, she explains, deals with the rational. The other, emotional. The required dualism of love informs most of Bitter so that Ndegeocello never completely plays the victim, even if she can deliver a line like "What kind of fool am I that you so easily set me aside" with sad conviction. She's always there to counter with erotically charged moments such as "Beautiful," a haiku-like whisper of a song linking spirituality and sexuality.
Now, with three diverse CDs to her credit, the intriguing Bitter confirms the unpredictable Ndegeocello's stature as R&B's most uncompromising voice of the '90s. Pity the market will likely bypass this intelligent work in favor of Mariah Carey's insipid musings. Don't let Bitter slip by unnoticed.
RICHMOND TIMES-DISPATCH
Davis Bailey
September 2, 1999
Grade: A
Meshell Ndegeocello's poignant lyrics wrapped in tantalizing acoustics provide a sharp contrast to the expressionless world of modern pop-rock. Bitter is a remarkable recording from the three-time Grammy nominee whose 12-track effort proves that there is, indeed, musical beauty in simplicity.
Despite the title, Ndegeocello's latest work could not be sweeter to the ear or spirit. It is a melodic exploration of human relationships, with vivid tracks depicting some that have gone awry and even a few that just might work out.
With gorgeous songs like "Faithful," "Sincerity" and Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love," Ndegeocello serves up more of what her fans expect to hear and experience: sensitive-themed, acoustic ballads that soothe the mind, heart and soul. With "Loyalty," she pays homage to her R&B roots, while saving the last track, "Grace," to declare the healing powers of love.
Once again, the outspoken Ndegeocello has found solace in music and graciously shared it with the public.
KNOXVILLE NEWS-SENTINEL
Chuck Campbell
September 17, 1999
Grade: 4/5
Meshell Ndegeocello is still working through some weird stuff, and that's all the better for us.
Following her 1996 release Peace Beyond Passion — which tied together psychosexual, political and religious subtexts — Ndegeocello unleashes Bitter, a less complicated but more profound meditation on the imperfections of relationships.
To be sure this is no standard collection of songs about love and lust. The mood is quiet, and even the most upbeat songs have a melancholy
edge.
The bass player sings with understated power throughout, the intensity of the atmosphere compounded by discreet instrumentation — cellos, acoustic guitar, keyboards.
The overall effect is too disquieting for widespread mainstream acceptance, but Bitter is one of those albums that will surely move the lovesick.
After opening with the stark cello-and-percussion instrumental "Adam," Bitter's" tone is set with the disturbing waltz "Fool of Me," where Ndegeocello explores the degradation of one-sided love: "Does she want you with the pain that I do?/ I smell you in my dreams." The theme is repeated on "Wasted Time," where Joe Henry provides off-kilter vocal harmonies, and a mechanical rhythm and steel guitar create a surreal air. "Sincerity" is a third-person version of the same topic, cloaked in the deceptive warmth of a soft-shuffling arrangement.
The title track is the most stirring cut on this collection of poignant songs, with Wendy Melvoin's elegant acoustic guitar accenting Ndegeocello's heart-rending revelations about a finished relationship.
By contrast, the singer fumbles for bliss on the free-floating "Beautiful," indulges in obsessive eroticism on "Satisfy" and embraces love's
redemptive force on the album-closing "Grace."
Sometimes her perspective is too warped — it's hard to swallow "Emptiness is all I have ever known" as justification for consistent
infidelity on "Faithful," for instance — and the dark nature of Bitter can be excessively gloomy.
Yet few performers ever go this deep.
THE INDEPENDENT
Andy Gill
September 3, 1999
Few of her contemporaries have anatomised the encumbrances of desire with quite the focus and determination of Meshell Ndegeocello, whose 1996 album Peace Beyond Passion dealt intelligently with the knotty problems of self-definition in an age of sexual stereotyping. Bitter is her most effective offering yet, a subtler survey of the same emotional minefield featuring mature reflection upon faith, promiscuity and rejection, without lapsing into the indulgent self-pity of Alanis or Tori.
It's her most coherent release, too, thanks to the way she and her co-producer David Gamson have abandoned the jazz-funk stylings of previous albums — her trademark slap-bass is conspicuously absent here — in favour of sustaining the drowsy, post-coital mood with languid string arrangements. "Fool of Me" is typical, a slow, spare piano blues comprising just an ambient string pad, an occasional lazy drumbeat and a few widely placed piano chords, with a subtle swell of strings towards the end. The crepuscular atmosphere continues through "Faithful" and "Satisfy" into the title track, a quietly impassioned recollection of the moment of rejection. Like the album as a whole, it's Bitter in the way that Green & Black's Organic Dark Chocolate is bitter, a languorous, sensual indulgence in a sharp emotional flavour.
Ndegeocello's reflections on fidelity, temptation and desire are pitched on the cusp of hesitancy and insistence, cleverly tracking the vacillations in certitude that attend such matters: she's absolutely certain about the causes of emotional turmoil and what she thinks about them, but then again, not quite that sure... She's certainly courageously honest about her own part in such turmoil, with tracks such as "Grace" and "Faithful" offering apologias for destructive promiscuity: "No one is faithful/ I am weak/ I go astray/ Forgive me for my ways". At the same time she bleeds the obsession of the truly besotted in songs such as "Wasted Time," where she admits, "You rarely notice, but I hang on your every word", over a shuffling suggestion of a backing track in which electronic drum tones blend imperceptibly with pedal steel guitar.
The production throughout is marvellously sympathetic to the album's mood, so much so that Hendrix's "May This Be Love" is virtually unrecognisable in a slow, chilled version draped in woozy, Eastern-flavoured strings. Despite a roster of musicians that includes such distinctive talents as Joe Henry, former Prince protegees Wendy & Lisa, and the avant-jazz guitarist David Torn, she and Gamson have managed to render the diverse elements as a satisfyingly homogeneous whole; the result is one of those rarealbums that can be played from beginning to end with no rude disruption of mood. And compared with the fake sensuality of most boudoir-soul offerings, Bitter packs a compelling erotic punch. A quiet masterpiece.
REEL IMAGES MAGAZINE
2001
Best Song - Theatrical
The editors of Reel Image Magazine congratulate Meshell Ndegeocello on her selection for Best Song - Theatrical, Fool of Me from the feature film, Love & Basketball. Ndegeocello's haunting ballad served as the backdrop for one of the most touching film finales in recent memory. As Epps and Lathan play a game of a game of one-on-one for, as Lathan says, "Your heart!" The song captures brilliantly that moment in time and is so effective that it evokes the scene’s imagery sans the film.
MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY STATE NEWS
Shannon Resch
September 1, 1999
Meshell Ndegeocello’s third album proves to listeners that simplicity can make an album deep.
It tackles themes such as faith, love, sincerity and loyalty, and it doesn’t suger-coat them. Ndegeocello gives a stellar performance on bass, doing what she does best.
Bitter is full of the talent and promise she displayed in her first two efforts. Her debut album, Plantation Lullabies, earned her praise after its 1993 release. She was named Bassist of the Year by Bass Player magazine, and Rolling Stone named her as the Brightest Hope the same year. Her second album, Peace Beyond Passion, gained acclaim from critics at the Los Angeles Times and Vibe magazine.
The track “Sincerity” gives a truthful look at relationships and how some people commit only until something better comes along. Guitarist Doyle Bramhall II, one of many guests who join Ndegeocello on the album, gives the song a touch of soul with his performance.
The title track sums up what you might feel after fighting with a loved one. Ndegeocello creates a sound that parallels what your heart would cry after slamming the door and walking out.
Ndegeocello counters the sadness in her music with the upbeat tracks “Loyalty” and “Grace.” In these, she equates loyalty with love, and it works. “Grace” offers the most positive portrait of love on the album.
Possibly the most inventive elements of Bitter are its two instrumental tracks, “Adam” and “Eve.” As Ndegeocello described them, “Adam and Eve offer differing aspects of the personality. One is rational, the other is visceral emotion.”
“Adam” begins the album with solemn cellos to set the CD’s tone. “Eve,” nine songs later, is a composition of turmoil, showing the confusion of having done wrong.
While not everyone may agree on Ndegeocello’s statements on human character traits, they cannot be bitter about what the album provides: good music.
SONICNET
Jacquelyn Pope
August 23, 1999
On Meshell Ndegeocello's third album, Bitter, the singer/songwriter casts a cold eye on life and love. A glance at the track list provides a pretty good picture of the themes on Ndegeocello's mind—sincerity, loyalty, grace. This is a moody, meditative album wherein the songs deepen and darken, proving that simplicity in skillful hands is a force to be reckoned with. Don't put it on if you're not in the mood to wallow in love's vicissitudes. But Ndegeocello cuts the bitter with the sweet, and Bitter is ultimately about being uplifted, for better and worse. Throughout, there is a quiet insistence that slowly accumulates power, along with intriguing undertones and a mix of the sexy and the somber that's indicative of the craft that went into this album.
In a departure from her previous recordings, Ndegeocello isn't working solo—she's assembled a host of musicians who add enormously to the depth and texture of the album. The open |
