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PLAYBOY
Nelson George
October 1996
My vote for the most important album of 1996 is Meshell Ndegeocello's Peace Beyond Passion. The androgynous singer who impressed critics with her debut Plantation Lullabies doesn't have to worry about the sophomore jinx. The 12 new songs form a rich tapestry of blistering funk, complex arrangements and artistic ambition. In tandem with producer David Gamson, Ndegeocello has made a well-played album. Ndegeocello's musical confidence and gutsy lyrics make this a crucial record that will endure as a landmark of the mid-Nineties.
LOS ANGELES TIMES
Robert Hilburn
June 23, 1996
* * * *
Ndegeocello's Plantation Lullabies was an inspired 1993 debut whose key moments reflected much of the purity and seduction of the best '60s and '70s soul music. "I'm Diggin' You (Like an Old Soul Record)" and "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)" were such superbly crafted tracks that they seemed at the time like career works.
This remarkably accomplished follow-up album, however, makes the sentiments on Plantation seem almost timid. At its center, Peace Beyond Passion is infused with the radical ambition and daring commentary of an artist who has found the inner power and the craft to break personal and musical boundaries.
Having found an audience with Plantation, Ndegeocello, one senses, felt a responsibility to use her platform to explore issues ranging from racism and religion to sexism. Part of the album's power comes from an underlying tension that makes it clear the challenges aren't just posed for others, but are in places self-directed in an act of personal exorcism.
"Leviticus: Faggot," the first single from this collection, is a blunt look at intolerance that mixes the elegant feel of social commentaries in the tradition of Curtis Mayfield with a contemporary blend of R&B, hip-hop and jazz that defies quick categorization.
Though it's Ndegeocello's own songs that give the album its spirit and substance, she transforms Bill Withers' "Who Is He and What Is He to You" into a striking summary piece for this enriching, spiritually tinged collection.
USA TODAY
Edna Gunderson
December 26, 1996
In a voice that resonates with experience and passion, Ndegeocello sings boldly of life's triumphs and tragedies on this gripping R&B collection. Whether attacking homophobia in "Leviticus: Faggot" or confronting a lover in Bill Withers' "Who Is He and What Is He to You", she expresses pride, determination and anger—not the chaotic rage of rock's ranting whiners, but the blistering outrage of someone bent on action.
EL MUNDO
Lupe R. Hernandez
July 18, 1996
En su segunda produccion discográfica titulada Peace Beyond Passion, la talentosa bajista, la sin par Meshell Ndegeocello nos ofrece y brinda una alineación de temas originales e interesantes con un toque espiritual y religioso.
El CD Peace Beyond Passion, el cual fue lanzado al mercado el pasado 11 de junio de '96, incluye temas provocativos y asombrosos, los cuales reflejan la perspectiva de una mujer luchando contra las frustraciones e inquietudes religiosas pero a la vez queriendo poner sus pensamientos y emociones en orden como "Mary Magdalene", "Stay", "A Tear and a Smile", "Bittersweet" y "The Way", entre otros temas.
En esta su segunda produccion, Ndegeocello demuestra su evolucion y madurez como cantautora y artista que nos deja asombrados y espiritualmente cautivados al interpretar los temas con tal pasion, conviccion e intensidad al estilo unico de Meshell Ndegeocello.
A&E
Chuck Tomlinson
July 19, 1996
This extraordinary multi-instrumentalist continues to amaze on the follow-up to her staggeringly excellent debut. If that sounds over-enthusiastic, it's with good cause. Few artists manage to blend rap, soul, funk, jazz and pop so originally or convincingly. Peace Beyond Passion is more rooted in soul than 1993's Plantation Lullabies, but no less satisfying. Ndegeocello is masterful, whether it's the hard-slappin' funk of "Deuteronomy: Niggerman," the mysterious slink of "God Shiva" or the erotic slowburn of "A Tear And A Smile" (featuring Billy Preston on keys).
Where the lyrics were more political on her first album, Peace Beyond Passion explores the relationship between sex and religion in songs like the controversially-titled first single "Leviticus: Faggot" and the lush "Mary Magdalene." When placed in the context of the whole album, her reading of Bill Withers' "Who Is He and What Is He to You" could be read as either a question from a jealous lover or one of religious faith. Ndegeocello has stated that she doesn't always know what she's trying to communicate, but that she is "more than satisfied with the dialogue created." Other guests on the album include former Prince and the Revolution member Wendy Melvoin and David Fiuczynski, guitarist for the Screaming Headless Torsos. If you're a fan of recent albums by D'Angelo or Maxwell, you won't be disappointed.
LOS ANGELES TIMES
"Leviticus: Faggot" (Video)
Lorraine Ali
July 21, 1996
Grade: 97/100
A baby-faced teenager incurs the wrath of his father, who, upon discovering that the boy is gay, throws his son's clothes out on the front lawn while mom looks on, pathetically powerless. The teen takes to the streets, where his parents still attempt to "save" him by dragging him back to church, but he ends the pain by slitting his wrists in a cheap, AstroTurfed bathroom. Falling on the floor, he becomes Ndegeocello, who rises up and leaves the room with some dignity.
This video is beautifully shot and the performers' expressions convey the gamut of emotions, from love to disgrace to remorse. While maybe too tragic for easy viewing, this is one of the year's best videos.
BILLBOARD
Leviticus: Faggot
Larry Flick
June 15, 1996
* Critic's Choice
Talk about launching a new album with a bang. Ndegeocello steps out on a commercial limb with the first single from Peace Beyond Passion, offering a heartbreaking fable on the power of homophobia. Within a live, hook-laden funk groove, she tells the tale with streetwise language that may leave conservatives faint. But it is the bravery of the lyrics that make the message so powerful and affecting. The first radio programmers to play this incredible record will be heroes-and, we hope, the leaders of a widespread movement of support.
BILLBOARD
Who Is He And What Is He To You 12"
Larry Flick
August 31, 1996
» Picks
This sassy revision of Bill Withers' timeless soul jam is not nearly as ballsy as the singer's previous single, "Leviticus: Faggot," but it sure is every bit as pleasing to the mind and body. Ndegeocello attacks the lyrics with a fearful growl, undercutting the chorus with a rasp that recalls a young Tina Turner. Accelerated to a stormin' house pace by the venerable Danny Tenaglia, the 10-plus-minute version of the track provides runway regulars with a brash new anthem to embrace, while the concise edit may actually wake up sleepy-eyed crossover radio programmers.
BILLBOARD
Stay
Larry Flick
January 11, 1997
* Critic's Choice
Once more with feeling. The third single from Ndegeocello's sadly underappreciated Peace Beyond Passion album is a sensual slow jam that is as commercially viable as they come. She whispers, vamps, and pleads with palpable emotion, while producer David Gamson surrounds her with cushy funk grooves. An army of remixers has been employed to hedge this single's bets for multiformat play. Peter Daou and Cevin Fisher turn up the heat for a jazz-laced house version, while SoulShock & Karlin kick a slow and moody hiphop vibe. The surprise of this package is an effective drum'n'bass reconstruction by Bentley, Guez & Snow, who deftly swing from hard, staccato beats to plush keyboards within a split-second-all while perfectly weaving Ndegeocello's vocal into the mix.
CMJ
Scott Franklin
July 1996
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this record is how assuredly and carefully she winds the record's ongoing Biblical themes ("Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart," "Mary Magdalene") around her own. Mature and thoughtful, Peace Beyond Passion is Ndegeocello's soul's expression, and she's not afraid to draw on the most powerful symbols to realize it.
INTERNATIONAL MUSICIAN
Lisa Tabor
September 1996
One of the most thought-provoking albums to come along in some time is Meshell Ndegeocello's Peace Beyond Passion. On this follow-up to her acclaimed 1993 debut, Plantation Lullabies, the vocalist/bassist explores a number of weighty subjects—homophobia, racism, religious hypocrisy and sexism among them—in an unabashedly direct manner that should add to her reputation as a controversial songwriter.
What makes this LP stand out is the way it simultaneously engages the listener's mind, body and soul with emotionally-charged lyrics layered over infectious grooves and melodies amalgamating '70s R&B, modern hip-hop and jazz. The gorgeous "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart" alone is worth the price of the album. Ndegeocello is backed on the project by such notables as Joshua Redman, Billy Preston and Wendy Melvoin.
SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE
Geoffrey Welchman
June 23, 1996
* * * *
It's almost expected that a much-hyped debut album will be followed with a dud—the dreaded sophomore slump. But singer/bassist Meshell Ndegeocello's second album reverses the trend—it's actually stronger than it's predecessor, Plantation Lullabies.
After that uneven debut, Ndegeocello's growing confidence as a singer is a joy. In track after track of Peace Beyond Passion she sculpts memorable melodies around snatches of speech, each supporting the other.
Ndegeocello's debut was a sort of '70s soul sound that sat uneasily with her not-quite-hip-hop rapping, a schism that is smoothed out on Passion. In spirit and flavor, Passion recalls prime Stevie Wonder, particularly "God Shiva," which borrows a riff from "Signed, Sealed, Delivered," and the controversial anti-gay-bashing song "Leviticus: Faggot," whose urgent chorus would sound at home on Wonder's Songs in the Key of Life.
The greatest improvement over the sometimes monotonous Plantation can be boiled down to better tunes. The new album burbles with a mellow funk that, despite its often heavy subject matter, makes for a wonderful hot-tub soundtrack.
Ndegeocello sings in a soulful alto, but her spoken raps have the sonorous quality of a female Barry White. Aside from the supple bass work with which she first made her musical reputation, Ndegeocello enjoys the solid support of a fine troupe of musicians: Billy Preston, Wendy Melvoin and Gene Lake, whose drumming is a joyful mix of snaps, stutters and pops.
The songs on Passion focus on the three R's: race, religion and respect. Religion is addressed with feeling in "The Way," in which Ndegeocello admits to being "so confused by the pale white face" of Jesus, whose words have been twisted to serve the people who "enslaved those before me." In "God Shiva" she beseeches a spiritual force, a "supreme reality," to help her find "a peace far beyond passion."
The race card is dealt from the top of the deck in "Deuteronomy: Niggerman," a tart groove with a beat so syncopated it almost trips over itself.
Stepping off the boastful refrain, "All I ever wanted was a niggah that would be true," she digs deeply into the dilemma facing black men and women in the United States. Alternately sassy and sorrowful, she teasingly calls brothers on the carpet while bemoaning the pain of their plight. "When I look at you, so black and blue/ My love for you is sad and true."
Elsewhere she crafts aching tracks of desire such as "Stay," whose simple melodies and direct lyrics would do Marvin Gaye proud. A remake of Bill Withers' "Who Is He and What Is He to You" becomes in Ndegeocello's hands a stunning invocation of homoerotic suspicion.
Yes, Ndegeocello is a black lesbian, a fact that almost crowded out her musical accomplishments in the hype surrounding her first album, and Ndegeocello's admission of ambivalence only added to the confusion.
With Peace Beyond Passion, there can be no doubt that she is an important artist. Hardly the sum of identity-politics parts, she is a talented musician and a thought-provoking songwriter who bends or protests gender and race roles not to please critics or fans, but to suit the needs of her own bittersweet realism.
THE ADVOCATE
Barry Walters
July 9, 1996
You can't accuse Meshell Ndegeocello of being a slacker. While most of her R&B contemporaries settle for the same old slickness, this multi-instrumentalist-singer-rapper-songwriter aims for the stars. She takes on issues of racism, sexism, and homophobia while recontextualizing biblical passages in ways that not even fundamentalists could conceive. She plucks and pumps her bass like nobody's business, and her cool-hot jazz-funk grooves recall an era when R&B surpassed rock in rebellious creativity.
She is serious, and her vibe radiates the intensity of gangsta MCs without the prefabricated swagger. Although Ndegeocello initially sang only of her love of and frustration with the male gender, this lesbian-identified bisexual is now addressing her desires for women—even female superstars of the Bible and other holy texts.
The Berlin-born, Washington, D.C.-raised, New York-based firebrand does all this and more on her second album Peace Beyond Passion. Although it lacks the obvious hit-single material of her debut, Plantation Lullabies—there's nothing as funny and nasty as "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)"—this is a far more consistent, disciplined, daring achievement. While that album was marred by pat black-versus-white antagonism, the successor manages to push buttons without switching into autopilot rage. Any album that announces itself with a single called "Leviticus: Faggot" is clearly in a confrontational class by itself.
"Leviticus: Faggot" is the hardest hitting song about homophobia ever to have a shot at radio play. Over a Prince-ly beat and Wonder-ful string flourishes, Ndegeocello tells a bleak but not uncommon tale: A gay boy is born to a brutal father and an unloving mother who throw him out of the house at 16, forcing him to turn tricks to make a living until he's found beaten bloody.
During the first part of the song, Ndegeocello is a compassionate but removed observer, describing the child's nightmare life with matter-of-fact accuracy: "The wages of sin are surely death/ That's what mama used to say/ So there was no sympathy." As the arrangement reaches a climax and trails off with a dreamy coda, the narration shifts to first person and Ndegeocello becomes one with the protagonist: "Beautiful angels dance around my soul as I rise.../ Swing low my sweet chariot/ Let me rise above my fears."
The religious references continue in "Mary Magdalene," where she pledges her love to a prostitute, and in "Deuteronomy: Niggerman," "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart," "The Way," "God Shiva," and other tracks, which mix spirituality, sensuality, and African-American consciousness in the grooves as well as in the lyrics.
Ndegeocello's ambitiousness may be too much for some, but her achievements are impossible to ignore. She's the fierce ruling dyke of funk, and her bold tenderness is something to behold.
VILLAGE VOICE
Richard Shindell
June 6, 1996
In the three years since the smart sass of "If I Was Your Boyfriend," the bass-whomping funkstress has been investigating enlightenment. On her forthcoming Peace Beyond Passion, she moves from praising the ubiquitous hims to running a check on the omnipresent Him. This is gospel music about niggers and faggots, with a sinuous sinner's groove.
SALON
Michael E. Ross
July 22, 1996
Click here to read the full review.
DETAILS
Rob Sheffield
July 1996
Meshell expresses herself with a smart combination: tough words, easy music. She builds the songs around her bass and fills up the space with synthesized Sade-style cocktail jazz. Her deep voice holds center stage, and it's supple when she's singing, charismatic when she's thinking out loud.
REQUEST
Cheo Hodari Coker
July 1996
Peace Beyond Passion, is the masterpiece that Lullabies only suggested. From the beginning to end, the album—a 60 minute meditation on organized religion, religious sexuality, and self-identity in a harsh, uncaring world—takes her to a level only previously matched by Prince on dynamic works like Dirty Mind and Controversy. With a raspy croon that more often than not turns into a sultry rap, Ndegeocello pulls off the layers strip by strip, revealing questions and assertions on a thematic level from which rhythm & blues usually runs screaming.
SAN DIEGO UNION-TRIBUNE
Jeff Niesel
June 27, 1996
Mixing politics and music can be messy, but Ndegeocello stays poised as she writes about gay bashing ("Leviticus: Faggot") and racist attitudes toward African-American men ("Deuteronomy: Niggerman") with the purpose of showing the complexity issues and collapsing boundaries between blacks and whites, gays and straights, and Christians and atheists. Ndegeocello uses enough epitaphs to cause controversy (some radio stations have refused to play "Leviticus"), yet she isn't simply striving for shock value. Rather Ndegeocello points a finger at herself as much as others—a gutsy move most cultural critics are unwilling to make.
LOS ANGELES TIMES
Robert Hilburn
July 7, 1996
Like many of the most inspired soul albums, this collection represents a spiritually accented journey from a point of personal and social disillusionment to a higher ground. Ndegeocello even speaks at the beginning of the album of being alienated from the things in life that supposedly bring comfort. "Jesus cured the blind man/ so that he could see the evils of the world," she says in one song, which also talks about the disorientation of a black woman praying to a "pretty white Jesus."
ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Cary Darling
July 21, 1996
* * * * *
Meshell Ndegeocello created quite a stir when she first burst on the scene three years ago with her urbane
R&B/jazz/hip-hop/pop mix, no-nonsense attitude and blurred sexuality. In the process, she outraged feminists by criticizing feminism, riled gay activists by using heterosexual references in her love songs, and confused radio programmers who didn't know where to pigeonhole her.
The flames of controversy are going to burn even hotter with the incendiary Peace Beyond Passion, the singer's long-awaited follow-up to her debut, Plantation Lullabies. But no one's going to accuse
Ndegeocello of hiding behind veils this time. From the constant biblical quotations to the combination
celebration-derision of black men in "Deuteronomy," the openly gay romance of "Mary Magdalene," and the
hard-charging anti-gay bashing sentiments of the first single, "Leviticus: Faggot," Peace Beyond Passion is
bound to spark a lot of conversation on all sides of the racial and sexual divide.
With this album, Ndegeocello establishes her own vision and style and comes up with an album that sums up
the era in much the way Marvin Gaye defined his socially conscious time with "What's Going On" in the early '70s
and Prince reflected the post-sexual revolution/pre-AIDS period of the late '70s-early '80s with "Dirty Mind."
And if there's any doubt about that by album's end, Ndegeocello closes with "Make Me Wanna Holler," a slow,
sultry, eight-minute reminiscence of a black mother's coping with an abusive husband, a hostile world, and how
those feelings are passed on to the next generation.
But if Peace Beyond Passion were only about current hot topics and didn't have the musical chops, it might make
headlines but wouldn't hold up. Produced by David Gamson, the album strikes a cool, slow groove—never
breaking much of a musical sweat—but still managing to generate a lot of heat nonetheless.
With help from acclaimed jazz sax player Joshua Redman, former Prince and the Revolution guitarist Wendy
Melvoin, and string arranger Paul Riser (the Temptations' "Papa Was a Rolling Stone" is one of his best-known
works), Peace Beyond Passion is a sleek, soulful journey through a talented and tortured soul.
And with any luck, the fallout from Peace will be that so many marginalized black performers like Ndegeocello—those who don't fit neatly into the rap, R&B and jazz categories in which most black acts are marketed—will get some attention. It's unfortunate that performers such as Basehead and the Veldt have to toil in obscurity, ignored by black and white audiences alike simply because no one knows how to categorize them.
Whatever happens, many people are not going to like Peace Beyond Passion, but they shouldn't ignore it.
USA TODAY
Steve Jones
October 17, 1996
* * * *
There are not many artists who would risk making radio and video programmers skittish, but then not many artists are as unafraid of taking a stand as Meshell Ndegeocello.
Her blistering social commentaries make Peace Beyond Passion a worthy follow-up to her stunning 1993 debut, Plantation Lullabies.
The title and lyrics of the first single, "Leviticus: Faggot," have stirred controversy even though the song is a scathing indictment of intolerance. It's one of several tracks with religious overtones and tells of a young gay man who is kicked out by his father and whose mother begs God to "save him from his life." He ultimately winds up "crowned Queen for all the world to see. His bloody body face down..."
In addition to homophobia, Ndegeocello slams hypocrisy—racial, religious and sexual—with searing lyrics delivered in her husky sing/rap style.
On "Make Me Wanna Holler," she painfully laments societal and family ills that led her as a child to "promise myself I'd never be like my mother or father." And on "The Way," she questions whether she can be saved by the same God whose "words are used to enslave me." Even when she's merely singing about a jealous heart (as on Bill Withers' "Who Is He And What Is He To You") she remains provocative.
R&B, jazz and hip-hop come together in a mesmerizing mix as Ndegeocello layers her lyrics over greasy guitar and thumping bass lines. And once again, she handles most of the instruments herself.
Three years ago, Plantation Lullabies set a lofty standard for a new artist. With Peace Beyond Passion, Ndegeocello has once again raised the bar.
ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY
D.B.
November 25, 1997
C+
On her second album, Madonna's quirkiest discovery continues her quest to make R&B for the head. Few singers in any genre would quote from the Bible and Kahlil Gibran, or attempt a noble, if heavy-handed, anti-gay-bashing song, "Leviticus: Faggot." Yet for all her sexual politics and shaved head, Ndegeocello makes curiously sterile music; Peace's blend of old-school fusion and light funk is more George Benson than George Clinton. Its most gripping cut is a seething remake of Bill Withers' suspicious-minds ballad "Who Is He and What Is He to You"; by leaving the song's genders unchanged, she adds a completely new gay-infused dimension to it. Next time, she'd do better to put passion before peace.
NME
1996
Grade: 6
It's not just rock that's gone retro, as Peace Beyond Passion clearly demonstrates. Confrontational jazz diva and soulmate of Madonna, Meshell Ndegeocello (that's N-day-gay-O-cello to you, bub) has finally deigned to deliver her long-awaited second album, and it positively reeks of the early-'70s.
Musically, it's a classy combination of Herbie Hancock jazz, George Clinton funk, and Stevie Wonder soul. Floating atop this mercurial melange of musical meringue we find Meshell, whose silken, soulful tones slip from sauce to spirituality with a quite dizzying frequency. Despite courting classicism (and authenticating same by recruiting the likes of Billy Preston and ex-Marvin Gaye guitar maestro Wah-Wah Watson), Meshell can always be depended upon to serve up a generous portion of gratuitous controversy, and Peace Beyond Passion is positively brimming with the stuff. It's extremely unlikely that any other soul diva would grapple with a song entitled "Leviticus: Faggot," or indeed dive headlong into the choppy waters of salacious blasphemy, by vying for the attentions of a variety of religious icons - the somewhat fruitily over-sauced beatitudes of "Mary Magdalene" and Sly Stone slaverings of "God Shiva."
On the up side, the funk is fly, fluid and flirtatious, Meshell's lascivious larynx-play is altogether faultless, and her subterranean bass playing mercilessly rumbles your booty without respite. But on the downside, over-generous lashings of sauce serve to sicken, and the overwhelming quest for '70s authenticity occasionally verges on self-conscious mimicry.
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PHILADELPHIA DAILY NEWS
Jonathan Takiff
June 7, 1996
At it's jazziest and most poetic heights, Ndegeocello's articulate spin on the contemporary black experience shows the strong influence of Gil Scott-Heron. Elsewhere, her embrace of sensual and spiritual matters evoke the ghost of Marvin Gaye and the holy/whellful synthesis of Prince.
BILLBOARD
Paul Verna
July 6, 1996
Soulful singer/songwriter/musician takes a biblical bent on her second album, framing her socially conscious lyrics in passages from the Scriptures. Highlights of an album that flirts with R&B, hip-hop, rock'n'roll, and pop include controversial lead single "Leviticus: Faggot"; thought-provoking "Deuteronomy: Niggerman"; silky "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart"; and "The Way" "Who Is He And What Is He To You," and "Make Me Wanna Holler," which is an adaptation of Marvin Gaye's "Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler)." An artist who makes no compromises—musically, lyrically, or otherwise—yet manages to touch a broad section of the mainstream.
TIME
Christopher John Farley
May 13, 1996
Peace Beyond Passion is the most emotionally ambitious of these new albums, addressing racial, sexual and religious concerns in lyrics that are by turns inscrutable and revealing.
VIBe
June/July 1996
On the Red Hot Organization's ingenious 1994 Stolen Moments: Red Hot + Cool compilation, Meshell Ndegeocello performed "Nocturnal Sunshine" with Herbie Hancock and thanked a friend in the notes for "helping me to understand that hatred is futile, sin is a figment of our imagination, and compassion is far greater than God." Such revelations can make for excellent lyrical discourse, as is demonstrated on the thoughtful Peace Beyond Passion.
Ndegeocello is still Every Woman, good for tellin' you exactly what's on her mind—just like she did on her more playful 1993 debut, Plantation Lullabies, where she let us into her bold sexuality and her outrage. On Peace, Ndegeocello is even more open with her personal/sexual struggles, her God (she fantasizes, in a sultry song named after the saint, about marrying a version of Mary Magdalene), and her politics. And she don't mind telling the world, even as she's still figuring it all out.
But Peace (produced by Lullabies' David Gamson) is rather like an Old Testament script-flipped. Or a study in Eastern philosophy. Ndegeocello begs to be freed into a world of "transcendent reality" on "God Shiva," which incorporates the breakdown from Stevie Wonder's 1970 "Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Your's", as well as an amazing guitar solo courtesy of David Fiuczynski.
On "Leviticus: Faggot," she challenges the book's ancient code of religious laws by applying them to homosexuality's contemporary truths-no surprise, they come up short. A Cimmerian string arrangement combined with Queen-like harmonies, Wah Wah Watson guitar riffs, and LaBelle-like shouts make "Leviticus" one of Peace's most extravagant tracks. It will make your backbone slip.
As will Ndegeocello's gender-bending cover of Bill Withers' 1972 "Who is He and What Is He to You," which features Billy Preston on organ and a near-perfect string arrangement courtesy of Paul Riser. It's here that Ndegeocello truly sings (She purrrred through most of Plantation). And while Meshell's voice is not exceptional, she works what she's got, especially on the aggressively sexy "A Tear and a Smile," where her throaty alto intimately intertwines with Preston's organ. Peace Beyond Passion is Meshell Ndegeocello's rhythmic struggle for equanimity. and her progress is wonderful.
CHICAGO TRIBUNE
Greg Kot
June 13, 1996
Where the 27-year old Maryland native rises above the current crop of neo-soul performers is her willingness to confront what it means to be black, female and sexually open-minded in a close-minded society. Like Marvin Gaye in the 1970s, she surveys the world and in anguish wonders, "What's Going On?" Like Gaye's masterpiece album of the same name, Ndegeocello pits her reedy voice against a conversational yet funky bass line on, Peace Beyond Passion.
WASHINGTON POST
Richard Harrington
June 23, 1996
Beautifully crafted, alluring in its sound and provocative in its songs, this album should elevate Ndegeocello's commercial prospects considerably. Ndegeocello knows how to use the lower part of her vocal range, and there's little difference between her singing and her speaking (which intertwine throughout the album). She allows both to communicate a soulful, sensual confidence and controlled resonance, whether the mood is reflective or angry.
The new album contains 11 original songs and a recasting of Bill Withers's "Who Is He and What Is He to You." Ndegeocello played all the instruments on her debut and continues to do most of the backing tracks herself (particularly on her chief instrument, the bass), but this time she fleshes things out with current band mates (notably guitarist David Fiuczynski) and some special
guests: saxophonist Joshua Redman, organist Billy Preston, guitarists Wah Wah Watson ("the Emperor of Groove") and Wendy Melvoin (from the Revolution), and arranger Paul Riser (known for his taut strings on classic Temptations and Four Tops tracks).
As for Ndegeocello's bass, which provides the alternately supple and roiling pulse of the album, it is elevated in the mix without ever becoming overbearing. Ndegeocello is Swahili for "free as a bird," appropriate considering her seamless melds: funk, fusion, jazz and hip-hop... Billie Holiday and the Last Poets... sexual identity, social liberation and spiritual transcendence. It's a heady brew.
Peace Beyond Passion's first seven songs all deal with religion in one way or another, and the album is cluttered with biblical references. The first full track, "The Way," addresses religious doubt and frustration. A pained Ndegeocello—who is bisexual—bemoans the fact that "Your followers condemn me/ Your words are used to enslave me/... Have you forsaken me?"—almost challenging God to make good on his promise of salvation. It's beautifully arranged, a modern spiritual incorporating a little Bootsy Collins-style bass and J.B. Horns brass as the singer is torn between faith and doubt.
The politics of sexuality informs the album's already controversial first single, "Leviticus: Faggot" (attacks on the use of the word "faggot" have obscured the song's attack on intolerance—social and religious, as well as sexual). Pushing against a rubbery bass line, Watson's coiling guitar and an ominous string undercurrent from Riser, the song is an intense, brutally drawn "from the closet to the grave" scenario about a young man kicked out of his home ("the wages of sin are death/ that's what mama used to say/ so there was no sympathy") and killed when a prayer to "save him from this life" is realized through a murder. With its Marvin Gaye-Curtis Mayfield verses and a Prince-like chorus, this particular tragedy comes with an irresistible beat.
On "Deuteronomy: Niggerman," Ndegeocello explores issues of conflicted identity (both racial and sexual) and social justice in the shadow of the Middle Passage; the song has a funk-fusion underpinning, Last Poets-style choruses and Bennie Maupin's bass clarinet soaring through live and programmed clouds of percussion. As for the extended "Makes Me Wanna Holler," it is not the Marvin Gaye classic but a melancholy meditation on familial, generational and social struggles Ndegeocello has clearly survived.
Redman braces the open-to-interpretation love plea "Mary Magdalene," while the album title's ambitions are the source of "God Shiva," in which Ndegeocello looks to reconnect with the soul of God and nature. A "sojourn of truth" propels "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart," in which cycles of life provide reassurance in the midst of questions about death and the afterlife ("to know self is to forgive self"). On this tune, Ndegeocello spins sinewy choruses off of spoken verses, while Allen Cato comments with "Maggot Brain"-style guitar. And "Stay" is a sly testament to a sensual obsessive trying to overcome someone else's guilt and reluctance ("If you let me have you just this once/ I promise never to want you anymore").
PEOPLE WEEKLY
Jeremy Helligar
July 1, 1996
Meshell Ndegeocello isn't just another chocolate-colored songbird with a sweet love song in her heart. She made that perfectly clear on her 1993 breakout single, "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)." Now the bisexual singer-songwriter clenches her fists even tighter as she rails against homophobia, racism and other social ills on her second collection of postcards from pop music's cutting edge.
R&B hasn't produced such an iconoclastic talent since Prince, though Peace more resembles the inner-city blues of Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On." While Ndegeocello's rumbling bass lines dominate the CD's sociopolitical first half, her rich alto, with its husky shades of Tracy Chapman and Anita Baker, soars on the subsequent state-of-the-heart tracks "Mary Magdalene" and "Who Is He and What Is He to You."
Unfortunately, Ndegeocello's ambition sometimes gets the best of her. "Leviticus: Faggot" describes with bone-chilling poignancy the fallout from a gay child's coming out ("His mother would pray/ Save him, save him, save him from this life"), but the title's clumsy biblical invocation both puzzles and puts off. And the woozy cadences of her spoken-word passages sometimes make them indecipherable.
Still, Ndegeocello rewards a listener's extra effort. Amid so much sound-alike soul, she's a rarity who refuses to pledge allegiance to the same old groove.
ROLLING STONE
Jon Wiederhorn
June 13, 1996
Her name may be virtually unpronounceable, but Meshell Ndegeocello's new record seamlessly blends hip-hop, fink, jazz and spoken word into a warm, inviting libation. Lyrically, her songs are more like Molotov cocktails, confronting such issues as racism and homophobia.
ROLLING STONE
David Fricke
Dec 26, 1996-Jan 9, 1997
Meshell Ndegeocello is no pushover, a fact too often hyped at the expense of her ravishingly mournful vocals and the dark-groove intrigue of her oldschool R&B moves. Peace Beyond Passion is an unrepentantly confrontational record, much more so than Ndegeocello's prickly but comparatively playful 1993 debut, Plantation Lullabies. Her juxtaposition of Christian symbolism and explicit critiques of homophobia and social emasculation in "Leviticus: Faggot" and "Deuteronomy: Niggerman" hang heavy over the already bleak but determined pulse of the songs. Ndegeocello puts a grim, bisexual spin on "Who Is He and What Is He to You" that will forever change the way you listen to Bill Withers' '7os original. In her singing, though, she carries herself with a pride and joy that, however hard won, is unblemished by bitterness. There is plenty of anger here—but it's the kind that comes from caring too much.
VILLAGE VOICE
Robert Christgau
July 23, 1996
B+
Anything but a sucker for texts from the Old Testament, Jesus, Shiva, and Kahlil Gibran, I kept wondering who the bass player was. As I should have known and kind of guessed, it was the text-borrower in question. So never mind about Leviticus this is the humanistic groove never quite made flesh by the jazz-tinged ambient foreground of Sade, Anita Baker, and D'Angelo. Then go back and admit that the texts betray comparable if lesser smarts. Especially the one from Bill Withers.
KNOXVILLE NEWS-SENTINEL
Chuck Campbell
December 29, 1996
#9 in the Top 10 Albums of 1996
Unable to reconcile conflicting messages of conventional religion, Meshell Ndegeocello resolves to dedicate herself to a god she accepts on her own terms with this provocative album of cool jazz and sleek R&B. Apart from her cravings for understanding of the world, she also explores her own lust, adding a funky layer to this textured album.
PHILADELPHIA TRIBUNE
Lynda Lane
June 7, 1996
Meshell comes back strong with a album that poses questions about religion and homosexuality. Although the context has been cited as controversial to some critics, the songs are very funky, which overrides the hoopla with syrupy basslines and guitar riffs.
US WORLD & NEWS REPORT
July 29, 1996
Meshell Ndegeocello's bravura new CD variously evokes sock-it-to-me Aretha Franklin, sultry Nina Simone and gravelly Grace Jones. The mix of R&B, hip-hop, jazz and pop is propelled by powerful lyrics, with several audaciously politically incorrect (and unprintable) titles currently causing a stir.
MONTREAL GAZETTE
Mark Lepage
July 6, 1996
The talk in some quarters is of Ndegeocello becoming the next Alanis, as if merely being a filly in Madonna's stable guaranteed a Derby win. Not every angry woman is going to cross over and top the charts, especially not one who writes with the angry sensuality of "Deuteronomy: Niggerman."
Ndegeocello will have to settle for critical hosannas for her sober fat-bassed biblical exegesis.
If there's a familiarity to the way "The Way" questions traditional iconography, not to mention sexuality, it's because Madonna's asked these questions in more vulgar terms.
Her funk never lifts the whole dance floor into the ether like Clinton's or hotwires the brain/groin pipeline like Prince's. Her python bass is torqued too low for that, oriented to mood and an eroticism that, coupled with Joshua Redman's sax in "Mary Magdalene," may mean a papal encyclical fired off in her direction.
CHICAGO SUN-TIMES
Jae-Ha Kim
June 23, 1996
* * *
"Deuteronomy: Niggerman," "Leviticus: Faggot," "God Shiva," "Mary Magdalene"... You get the idea. The follow-up to her acclaimed debut, Plantation Lullabies, which featured the sarcastically witty single "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)," Peace Beyond Passion has a message: tolerance. Her songs attack racism and homophobia (Ndegeocello is bi-sexual) and raise questions about religion, but her tuneful, seductive delivery saves her from preaching. Ndegeocello is equally at home interpreting other artists' hits, as she proved when she out sang John Mellencamp in their 1994 cover of Van Morrison's "Wild Night." A standout on this CD is her soulful cover of Bill Withers' "Who is He and What is He to You?" where strings and Billy Preston's sublime keyboard playing mesh into one with her voice.
JAM! MUSIC
John Sakamoto
June 21, 1996
* * * *
It may be odd to describe an album that deals unflinchingly with both religion and homosexuality as terrific "summer music" but that's exactly what Ndegeocello's wholly remarkable second album is.
Using her duet with John Mellencamp on Van Morrison's "Wild Night" as a leaping-off point, Ndegeocello has both tightened up her music and expanded it, by incorporating the most commerical elements of '70s soul and funk.
Fans of those genres will easily be able to pick out musical references to Marvin Gaye, Gamble & Huff, Curtis Mayfield, and Bill Withers — whose "Who Is He And What Is He To You" gets a dramatic overhaul here — without being distracted by them.
Coupled with Ndegeocello's searing lyrics, the music initially makes the message more palatable. After a few listens, however, it does what all good music does: amplifies the words.
The results are an unqualified success.
IRISH TIMES
Jim Carroll
August 2, 1996
If Plantation Lullabies marked Meshell out as one to keep an eye on, Peace Beyond Passion is confirmation of this potential realized. As deep, intense, moody and sultry R&B albums go, this one takes all the medals. Digging deep into an early 1970s black musical heritage (think Herbie Hancock, Sly Stone and Stevie Wonder, providing those seductively rich jazz, funk and soul rhythms) Meshell's voice covers all remaining bases with ease, making this album a joy from start to finish.
She may have talked up "a danceable rock 'n' roll album about God, sexuality and lies," but Peace Beyond Passion is more about funk than any other musical flavour. Naturally, given Meshell's towering introspection, it is also brimming with lyrical cut and thrust.
Tracks like "God Shiva" and "Mary Magdalene" abound with religious overtones, while the epic "Make Me Wanna Holler" is an honest and searing look, through a child's eyes, at a broken home.
With the brooding stomp of a cover of Bill Withers's classic "Who Is He And What Is He To You?" also in the mix, Peace Beyond Passion is something of a must.
MALAYSIA NEW STRAITS TIMES PRESS
Gerald Martinez
July 28, 1996
Meshell belongs to that comparatively rare breed—a virtuoso woman bass player. The young American black also possesses a deep husky voice in the Grace Jones, Nina Simone mould.
Working in the funk-hiphop-fusion-jazz schools, she's come out a very strong album, riveting in words and music. Elements from Sly and the Family Stone, Grace Jones and modern-day rappers all co-exist here.
Much of the album deals with her personal doubts, questions and struggles with her religion, race, colour and gender. The album kicks off with "The Womb." A punchy soul/hiphop instrumental, Meshell and drummer Oliver Gene Lake lock in telepathically, with veteran funk/jazzer Wah Wah Watson laying down some enigmatic lines on guitar.
Other highlights include "The Way" which, over a busy hiphop groove, she broods, "Maybe Judas was the better man."
"Deuteronomy: Niggerman" combines a strong hook with spoken quotes from the Bible over restless rhythms as she meditates that: "My view of myself is the divine whore."
"Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart" has a nice bounce to it, with hymn-like lyrics of faith, while "Leviticus: Faggot" combines compassion and anger.
Throughout it all, her musicians, principally Lake (drums), display taste and technique and great funkiness.
The challenging music, lyrics and spoken parts mean that this album won't appeal to everybody. But those who are into the more progressive forms of music will want to check this one out.
Jazz, in all its various incarnations in the post-bebop age, has been at a bit of a loss direction wise, much of it having degenerated into background music.
MALAYSIA NEW STRAITS TIMES PRESS
R.S. Murthi
July 19, 1996
As a bass-guitar player who happens to write and sing, Ndegeocello knows what really powers the pulse.
And she pumps up the jam on this gently bouncy fusion-oriented set, with songs that tackle themes ranging from the religious to the sacrilegious.
There's an at once seductive and authoritative appeal to Ndegeocello's quietly soulful voice, especially on tracks like "The Way," "Deuteronomy: Niggerman," "Mary Magdalene" and "A Tear and a Smile."
Whether she works in a funk-inflected context or goes for a straight pop/hip-hop style, Ndegeocello has the structure firmly nailed down. And the musicianly touches she brings to the pieces, with help from guests like saxophonist Joshua Redman and Billy Preston on organ, enhance their harmonic sparkle.
The directness of the verbal expression may make some uncomfortable, and sanctimonious Hindus with a tendency to misinterpret might take exception to "God Shiva," a heartfelt tribute to the god who presides over personal destinies.
But Ndegeocello is always sincere and thoughtful; she's so into everything she does here that even the cocktail-jazz noodling on some of the tracks is worth listening to.
And for sheer slow bass slam, I can't think of a recent recording that comes close to this.
WESTWORD
Michael Roberts
December 26, 1996
Commercially speaking, Peace sank like a stone. But from the standpoint of merit, it was a breakthrough—one that found Ndegeocello fulfilling more promise than anyone had a right to expect. The music has a sweep and rhythmic majesty that's electrifying, while her lyrics unflinchingly explore issues personal and political. A woman whose music rightfully should be coming out of a lot more radios.
OUT
Ray Rogers
July 1996
Her music doesn't fit into any cozy record bin. You never know what you're going to get in a Meshell Ndegeocello song: a splash of funk, a jigger of cool jazz, some hip-hop beats and rhythms, loud guitars, an edgy sort of rap-speak, or supremely soulful singing.
HOT WIRED
Steve Hochman
July 2, 1996
Meshell Ndegeocello never had problems getting noticed. Her name alone—even if you can't pronounce it, much less spell it—leaves an impression. When she joined John Mellencamp in a 1994 video duet of Van Morrison's "Wild Night," her bald, striking presence practically made her a household figure.
Even if Ndegeocello's stunning 1993 debut Plantation Lullabies had only a moderate impact on the pop world, she didn't need to release a single with the word "faggot" in the title and lyrics just to get attention. Her new song "Leviticus: Faggot" is remarkable not because it includes a provocative word, but because it shows off her talent and vision.
A striking tale of cultural brutality, "Leviticus" is propelled by percolating funk and an irresistible hook of a chorus, drawing you in before you even hear the complex story in the lyrics. There's no political sloganeering, no demonizing of gay-bashers, no battering of the mother who, praying for her son, asks God to "save him from this life." It's a human story with human characters—and no simple answers.
There are many equally moving songs on a collection that musically echoes Marvin Gaye's What's Going On and Curtis Mayfield's best '70s work and, like them, examines how we treat one another. The perspective is uniquely female, but the theme is not restricted by gender, race, or sexual orientation. Her universal message: Self-respect and dignity will see you through.
Life's still a struggle, though. Throughout the album, Ndegeocello chronicles the challenges to her own self-respect—not all of which come from the outside world. Even while taking on moralists and racists in her Old Testament trilogy of songs ("Deuteronomy: Niggerman," "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart," and "Leviticus: Faggot"), she examines herself with the very same shame and hatred that she detects in others.
In the slinky "God Shiva" (which features former Prince sidekick Wendy Melvoin), Ndegeocello throws that weight off, singing, "Desire no more than what you already possess." She already posesses enough vision to play an important role in popular music for at least the next few years.
MUSICIAN
Jon Young
August 1996
Funk ought to be it's own reward, but Meshell Ndegeocello isn't buying that right now. Perhaps embarrassed by the commercial success of John Mellencamp's rollicking cover of "Wild Night," which benefited enormously from her monster bass licks, a brooding Ndegeocello scorns the notion of comfort or relief on Peace Beyond Passion. While Plantation Lullabies, her triumphant debut, was hardly a party platter, this relentless slice o' angst has all the excitement of a wake.
Make no mistake, the grooves are solid. In addition to Ndegeocello's typically authoritive fretwork, cool players like Joshua Redman, Wendy Melvoin, David Gamson, and Billy Preston contribute to these densely textured meditations on love and the cosmos. Whether singing or rapping, Meshell's a commanding presence, suggesting a descendant of Nina Simone.
But so joyless! Exploring the spectrum of desire from spiritual yearnings to carnal urges, Ndegeocello portrays the craving for fulfillment as a curse, rather than an opportunity for pleasure or transcendence. "The Way" and "Deuteronomy: Niggerman" factor in white folks' manipulation of black expectations, highlighted by witty wordplay. A hellish one-dimensional cartoon, "Leviticus: Faggot" shows a victim of circumstances snuffed out without an iota of compassion. No wonder the languid "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart" practically equates enlightenment with death: Burdened by care, Ndegeocello sees earthy concerns as shameful and overwhelming.
Peace Beyond Passion displays none of the timidity that characterizes so many sophomore efforts. If anything, Ndegeocello is too bold in her willingness to carry the world's troubles on her shoulders. Sure, life stinks, but why not have some fun on the slide to oblivion?
JERUSALEM POST
David Brinn
August 13, 1996
Never has a record so devoted to prayer, spiritual fulfillment and salvation made the listener want to sin like this one does. Seductive grooves and impeccable productions are only two highlights of Meshell Ndegeocello's sophomore release.
Singer and bass player extraordinaire, Ndegeocello scored a minor dance club hit three years ago with "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)," a piece of funk so sassy it threatened to sizzle. But her big breakthrough came a year later when John Mellencamp asked her to duet on the hit remake of the Van Morrison classic, "Wild Night."
Playing a brand of funky rock that can break off into melodic pop tunes and dance barn burners, Ndegeocello slips in vocals devoted, in her own words, to "death, living and questioning existence."
I hate to harp on an issue here, but the delivery far surpasses the material here, too.
Aside from the infectious "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart" and the sweet "Mary Magdelene," the album is noteworthy for its fine musicianship and arrangements, and Ndegeocello's obvious passion for her art.
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ROLLING STONE
Ernest Hardy
July 11-25, 1996
* * * *
The first words Meshell Ndegeocello utters on Peace Beyond Passion are, "Jesus cured the blind man so that he could see the evils of the world." From there, Ndegeocello thrusts us into a concept album whose protagonist is bloodied and bruised when we meet her—but not broken. The overriding theme is the battle between Christianity and the individual, and the way that battle shapes and misshapes community, family and self-identity. Though Ndeg6Ocello stops short of the gorgeous blasphemy of XTC's "Dear God," it isn't by much. In "The Way," she sings, "Maybe Judas was the better man/ And Mary made a virgin just to save face."
While the first half of the album is a seamless, far-reaching critique of religious narrow-mindedness (homophobia in "Leviticus: Faggot," patriarchal privilege and the emasculated black man on "Deuteronomy: Niggerman"), Ndegeocello segues smoothly into a celebration of pure spirituality. But it's a spirituality based on a lover's kind heart. Ndegeocello is the ultimate hopeless romantic Even though racism, homophobia, self-hatred and social ostracism dog her spirit, she still croons sweetly to a lover in "A Tear and a Smile."
By and large, the musical playfulness that leavened her 1993 debut, Plantation Lullabies, is subdued here. While there's a dark slinkiness to Ndegeocello's cover of Bill Withers' "Who Is He and What Is He to You" and a 70s R&B breeziness to the love songs "Stay" and "Bittersweet," Peace Beyond Passion is mostly sober and somber. The slow to midtempo grooves echo the weariness of the lyrics; their heaviness evokes the high cost of hard-earned peace and joy.
With intimacy and purposefulness, Ndegeocello fulfills the promise of her first album and puts the pop, hip-hop and R&B worlds on notice: She's one of the few artists who really matter.
HOUSTON CHRONICLE
Jeff Charles
July 14, 1996
* * *
You may not agree with Meshell Ndegeocello's views on politics, religion or life. But you've got to admit the sister is one funky musician. How else would her second album draw musicians as diverse as Joshua Redman, Billy Preston, Wendy Melvoin and Wah Wah Watson?
Ndegeocello's 1993 debut, Plantation Lullabies, garnered four Grammy nominations. On Peace Beyond Passion, her music becomes a little more accessible even as her views grow more extreme.
Ndegeocello wrote 11 of the 12 tracks. The exception is a winking interpretation of Bill Withers' 1970s funk chestnut "Who Is He and What Is He to You." In this context, the lyrics simply imply a bisexual love triangle.
With titles such as "Mary Magdalene," "God Shiva" and "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart"—not to mention a couple that can't be printed here—the album mixes sex and spirituality in a manner that may scare away many old-school rhythm and blues fans.
But Ndegeocello's provocative message is as crucial to the music as the funky bass lines she lays down. "God Shiva" features her singing and talking over a sinister, bass-driven groove that is almost otherworldly.
On "Stay," a sultry smooth ballad, she turns up the heat as she seduces the person of her dreams. "The Way" finds Redman complimenting Ndegeocello nicely on horns.
"Leviticus: Faggot" is a poignant testament to the trials faced by homosexuals whose families don't support them. The track is so tight with those vintage Wah Wah Watson guitar licks, that you can easily lose track of the controversial subject matter.
On Peace Beyond Passion, Ndegeocello claims she has finally found peace in her spirituality and her sexuality. We should be thankful that peace has not dulled her passion.
THE PRINCE FAMILY
Paul Maher, Jr.
August 31, 1996
Meshell Ndegeocello's second release, Peace Beyond Passion, perhaps brings her closer to the stunning dynamics of sound and experience she was striving for in her initial outing. Each track combines the transcendental aspect of her vision with an earthy street funk. Her bold and assertive sound flatters her feminist image. At last we get to hear a sincerity of thought in song that is so sorely missing from her contemporaries.
The album opens with a cool, simmering instrumental, "The Womb," before it makes a transition to "The Way": "Jesus cured the blind man so that he could see the evils of the world." A clever irony that sets the pace of the rest of the album. If the guitar sounds faintly reminiscent of Prince, it's because Wendy Melvoin contributes guitar on this and a host of other tracks.
The remaining songs are an exercise in social awareness. Each of these is cast with biblical overtones. In "Deuteronomy: Niggerman" she expresses a divinity that lies beyond skin color. At once she sees herself as a "divine ho" and then a "nigger redefined." A clever arrangement allows such notables as Billy Preston to shine over the somber (but sobering) lyrics.
"Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart" slows down with a lazy, yearning guitar as Meshell speaks the opening lyrics until the chorus: "Free my heart so my soul may fly/ Free my mind of my worldly wants and desires." It is a tender rhapsody that is colored at its end by a guitar-filled turmoil echoing the very heart and soul she speaks of.
"Faggot better run, learn to run cuz daddy's home/ His sweet lil' boy just a little too sweet." Gay bashing becomes the issue here in first single "Leviticus: Faggot," and Meshell dictates the horrors of this with an aggressive funky backing track. It is a catchy song with its startling cry of awareness and call to arms against such a hateful activity.
"Mary Magdalene" is a softly rendered song strummed by Wendy and at its leisurely pace, Meshell speaks with longing for love: "Tell me I'm the only one/ I want to marry you."
"God Shiva" shimmers with a strange guitar arrangement from Wendy and is spoken by Meshell. By now we are accustomed to her presence as a speaker. Her voice is powerful and is an instrument of truth and integrity. Again, these are qualities missing from her female collegues who often sweep up Grammy awards every year. Meshell walks on dangerous ground with the intention of freeing her voice and sound in the sole name of "art." This is an aspect of her music that she freely admits was influenced by Prince. The artist himself has often spoken of his love for her music and it is not hard to see where the similarities lie. Both artists are not afraid of taking risks, neither fear who they might alienate as a consequence of their messages.
The remainder of the album can stay a fresh surprise for those who are looking for something with a little more "weight" than those other summer offerings. When you want more, if you haven't got it already, buy her first album. She is an artist who will be around for awhile, outdoing herself in a way that others cannot. You cannot sell out sincerity.
SANTA FE NEW MEXICAN
David Prince
July 5, 1996
Her name, Meshell Ndegeocello, is quite a mouthful (pronounced n-day-gay-o-chello, a Swahili word meaning "free as a bird.") So, too, is her second release, Peace Beyond Passion, a gorgeously produced concept album that begins by engaging the listener in a debate over the role of organized religion in our daily lives, moves on to survey a personal battlefield between the spirit and the flesh, and ultimately comes right back where it started, stuck inside Mobile, or Trenton, or D.C., with the inner city blues again.
That Ndegeocello is a stunning artist Time magazine declared her the "Saviour of Soul" is not in question. Even a cursory listen to her crackling bass work, sure-handed keyboards and sinuous guitar fills will point out her considerable instrumental talents, while her vocal prowess ranges from convincingly deep, Barry White-like spoken passages to deft rapping and soaring multi-tracked harmonies.
The melodies she writes bespeak familiarity with the entire spectrum of contemporary R&B, and she's lyrically unafraid of confronting her own, as well as society's, duality.
But the real question is, is Peace Beyond Passion too weighty and unsmiling for its own good? (The answer, unfortunately, seems to be yes.) On Plantation Lullabies, her 1993 debut, Ndegeocello spent her time examining the black experience from the inside. She decried the aimless shufflin', shootin' up and gettin' high, and railed against racism in all its forms, yet she did it with undisguised musical joy.
If the subject matter was painful, and it often was, there was always that underlying happiness you got though your feet from the bounce of the rhythms, or the playfulness you heard in rhymes and meters.
Peace Beyond Passion, on the other hand, is a ponderous planet, one that oozes dignity and compassion and isn't very much fun.
As soon as we've emerged from "The Womb," which in this case is an instrumental overture, we are immediately confronted with "The Way" of the racist (read more correctly, white) religious doctrine: Your followers condemn me, Ndegeocello intones, your words used to enslave me.
From here, we follow a path that roughly parallels the books of the Old Testament, leading from "Deuteronomy: Niggerman," with its transcribed Biblical quotations, to the incendiary "Leviticus: Faggot," a tune so compelling (complete with Temptations-style strings) it unwittingly works as an ironic counterpoint to the song's story of sexual intolerance.
It's as if Ndegeocello had purposely saved her best musical frame for her most difficult tale.
There are many fine talents at work on Peace Beyond Passion. Joshua Redman, David Fiuczynski, Wendy Melvoin, Billy Preston, Wah Wah Watson, Benny Maupin and Gene Lake all contribute wonderful lines.
It's just that sitting through it gives you the same uneasy feeling you had when you were forced to sit through an interminable sermon.
CLEVELAND FREE TIMES
Bittersweet
Conya Doss
March 20-26, 1996
"She is SHARP! She reminds me of a female version of Prince, with her ability to play so many instruments and express her creativity in so many ways. She just doesn’t receive the credit she deserves."
DE STEM
Paul Verlinden
June 19, 1996
Het heeft ruim tweeenhalf jaar geduurd, maar nu komt Meshell Ndegeocello eindelijk met de langverwachte opvolger van haar indrukwekkende debuut-plaat Plantation Lullabies, destijds in OOR uitgeroepen tot beste dance-cd van het jaar.
Ook de nieuwe cd, Peace Beyond Passion, kent een weldadige muzikale mix van hiphop, soul, funk en jazz. Het merendeel van de nummers is door Meshell zelf geschreven. Ook neemt ze weer een groot deel van het instrumentarium voor haar rekening, al blijft haar indrukwekkende bas-spel het belangrijkste.
De 32-jarige Meshell is minder de 'angry young woman' van 1993, maar toont nog steeds maatschappelijke betrokkenheid door in haar teksten te ageren tegen schijnheiligheid en racisme. Het merendeel van de teksten gaat echter over het oudste thema uit de popmuziek: inderdaad de liefde.
Peace Beyond Passion is ook muzikaal een wat minder felle plaat dan Plantation Lullabies: meer ingetogen, lekker loom groovend, in plaats van vette funk. Een heerlijke zomerplaat dus, en weer een van de beste dance-cd's die ik dit jaar gehoord heb.
THE GUARDIAN
Chris Wells
June 7, 1996
* * * * *
Two years ago, in the midst of critical acclaim and a quartet of Grammy nominations for Meshell's debut album, Plantation Lullabies—a work bulging with tales of America's often violent, drug-ridden underclass—Maverick Records decided to release a US single. Timidly for Madonna's label, they chose "Dred Loc," a touching, romantic ballad, and the only track that might receive radio play.
Completely unrepresentative of the album, it bombed. This time around they've gone with "Leviticus: Faggot."
"So far two stations are playing it and the rest have passed," laughs Meshell at the thought of once again raising the hackles of her homeland's moral homeguard. "After being labeled anti-Semitic and anti-Christ, this time, apparently, I'm anti-gay. That kind of misplaced anger... well, it just proves the point of the song."
Which, as it happens, is anti-homophobic.
Meshell is not a rapper, nor even a street poet: more accurately she delivers her messages by way of 'rhythmic talking' (her phrase), the undulating, story-telling style reflective of her prowess on the bass guitar, the instrument by which she paid her rent during formative years on Washington's go-go scene. On Peace Beyond Passion, however, she's singing a deal more too, producer David Gamson pushing her towards a more melodic, perhaps more commercial, median market position, without stretching her distinctively warm tone beyond endurance. It's not Anita Baker, but it does still work. Gamson can also be feted for another of the album's developments. Having seen how depressed his friend had become after Plantation Lullabies sales failure, and how close she'd sailed to the emotional edge under other pressures personal and financial—Meshell's a single mother, a recovering addict and still being sued by former management—he encouraged a shift away from programming and to a 'live-in-studio' approach, partly on the grounds that the artist would benefit from the in-session camaraderie and partly because Meshell's all-round instrumental ability has grown.
The guests earn their keep, of course, buddy Joshua Redman laying a fluid sax solo onto "Mary Magdalene" and dubbing up into a horn section elsewhere, while touches from clarinetist Benny Maupin, guitar master Wah Wah Watson and veteran funky organ man Billy Preston are an unexpected delight.
But the stars of Peace Beyond Passion remain Ndegeocello and her funky way with words and rhythm. Most of the album's first half reports on her progress to make sense of Christianity in the light of some clashing realities. In contrast, her version of one of Bill Withers' best and funkiest tunes, "Who Is He And What Is He To You" neatly adds a lesbian slant to the plot, and "Make Me Wanna Holler," which samples "Inner City Blues" and grows into a breathtaking eight-minute instrumental jam to close the album, is the finest tribute to Marvin since Teena Marie's "My Dear Mr. Gaye."
Recently, Meshell suggested that Peace Beyond Passion might be her last as an artist, the effort involved in fighting off accountants' demands proving so tiresome as to force her towards producing soundtracks and instrumental jazz. If she's as good as the threat, then at least she'll have handed Madonna the honour of releasing two of the best black music albums of the 1990s. And isn't that what she wanted all along?
E! ONLINE
June 25, 1996
Grade: A
To be honest, we don't know what all the hysteria is about. If you can get through the Deep Meanings and all the musical overreaching, you'll find a soulful artist who hasn't hit her stride yet. While she is capable of something as grabbing as the subtly persuasive, pro-tolerance single "Levitucus: Faggot," she'd be in better shape if she were forced to lay off on loping jazz grooves and Biblical imagery. That way she might write more songs like "Who Is He and What Is He to You," a fine throwback to mid-'70s funk.
ATLANTA JOURNAL & CONSTITUTION
Sonia Murray
June 13, 1996
* * * ½
Meshell Ndegeocello's career plan must be that if your critically heralded debut is a sales flop due mostly to subject matter, the next time around make the subject matter even more jarring. Choosing not to concede to sure-thing commercial appeal, Peace Beyond Passion raises eyebrows with its language, raises questions about religion that Joan Osborne may bristle at and, as on her first effort, Plantation Lullabies, raises the stakes of musicianship in today's too-computerized R&B.
The first release is "Leviticus: Faggot," one of three songs a "Deuteronomy: Nigger Man," "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart" being the others a on an effort that alternates between taking spirituality to task and extracting solace from it.
"They say you're the light," she says in her commanding speak/sing style on "The Way." "The light is so blinding/ Your followers condemn me, your words used to enslave... I too am so ashamed on bended knees/ prayin' to my pretty white Jesus."
It's even painful from a distance, listening in as Ndegeocello graphically peels back the corrosive layers of gay-bashing, self-hatred and an uncertainty about almost all things purporting goodness. (Then again, how easy should it be to hum along to subjects like these?) She can do radio-palatable, as on the ballad "Stay," "Bittersweet" and the faithful cover of Bill Withers' "Who Is He and What Is He to You" is a perfect match for the exceptional bassist and witty writer. What she's brilliant at, however, is challenge. Challenging herself and her audience.
MADEMOISELLE
Renée Crist
July 1996
Grade 3.5/4
She teamed up with John Mellencamp for last year's hit song "Wild Night," but on her own, Ndegeocello's honey-drenched vocals sound even better. Throughout the album, gentle African rhythms soothe like falling rain, while bass lines stir up trouble. The best-kiss-inducer of '96: "A Tear and a Smile," with its spicy snare and teasing bass rhythms. Sure, some tracks havea capital-M message, but the real point of this album is what it means to love. What's not to love about it?
LOUISVILLE ECCENTRIC OBSERVER
Cary Stemle
September 25, 1996
You may know this decidedly funky 27-year-old woman from her duet with John Mellencamp on Van Morrison's "Wild Night." But that song only hinted at her prowess as a writer and philosopher.
Ndegeocello is a paradox. She's bisexual, but also has a child. She's urbane and sophisticated, yet comes off like the girl next door. She takes on topics sure to rankle many constituencies, yet she is more precocious than subversive.
Her sexuality is always near the surface, but it's not the edifying trait. Rather, she's interested in core human issues and how they apply to everyone. She yearns for spiritual knowledge, and uses explicit religious symbolism to portray how those in oppressed cultures fight not only their oppressors but one another as well.
On "Deuteronomy: Niggerman," she uses that dreaded word, lamenting: All I ever wanted was a nigger who would be true. On "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart," she borrows the words of Solomon and begs for inner peace and lightness of spirit. On a cover of Bill Withers' "Who Is He and What Is He to You?" she speaks to a female lover who's been with a man, but the jilted feelings are gender-neutral. And on "Leviticus: Faggot" (the title of which borrows from the book of laws that homophobes often invoke to prove the Bible condemns homosexuality) she writes about a gay teen who is kicked out of the house by his parents, then killed by bashers.
It's a potent, gutsy approach, but even in its directness it is not preachy. Compassion is the operative word. With expansive arrangements that mix slinky funk with more modern hip-hop elements, the music of Ndegeocello places an exhilarating voice on the world stage.
ST. PETERSBURG TIMES
Eric Deggans
June 26, 1996
This one's for everyone who has looked at some fuzzy-faced Stevie Wonder-by-way-of-Aaron Hall clone on television and wondered what sorry state modern R&B has come to.
It's also for those who have railed against the videogenic orgy of teens that now pass for contemporary soul's leading voices.
And all of you who think computer keyboards and sampled chunks of past hits have replaced innovation and instrumental savvy in modern funk—you can step up, too.
Because pint-sized bassist/singer/songwriter Meshell Ndegeocello has crafted a big, gooey blend of sticky funk, hip-hop flavor and jazzy touches just for you. Now it's time to put your money where your mouth is.
It's not just that Ndegeocello's new album, Peace Beyond Passion, bursts boundaries.
Rather, the album obliterates the hackneyed conventions of contemporary R&B, reaching back to the legacy of Marvin Gaye and Roy Ayers to create music more forward thinking than anything R. Kelly ever put on tape.
Take, for example, the album's first single, "Leviticus: Faggot." A funky mix of old school electric piano, wah-wah guitar and supple bass lines, "Leviticus" is a stark meditation on the beating death of a gay friend of Ndegeocello, who is bisexual.
As chunky jazz chords float on a percolating drum beat and sinewy bassline, Ndegeocello's soulful vocals alternate between portraying how the gay man's mother would pray to "save him from this life" and his father would beat him, singing, "faggot, better learn to run, cuz daddy's home."
It's a powerful dramatization of the hazards openly gay people face, wrapped in an irresistibly funky beat—and it's already won the endorsement of advocacy groups like the Washington-based Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation.
Such straight-up statements might surprise those who only know the artist through her chart-busting duet with John Mellencamp, "Wild Night." But anyone who heard the potent mix of black nationalist sentiment and jazz-tinged funk on her astonishing debut, 1993's Plantation Lullabies, knows what time it is.
Aided by weighty sidemen like former Prince guitarist Wendy Melvoin, organist Billy Preston and jazz saxophone prodigy Joshua Redman, Ndegeocello crafts alluring nuggets of funky, hip-hop drenched jazz, ranging from the dreamy vibe of "The Way" to the greasy groove of "Deuteronomy: Niggerman."
For those who can remember when artists like Gaye and Curtis Mayfield faced down America's institutional racism with incisive works of sonic art, her attempt to reclaim a racial epithet must strike a familiar chord.
As Ndegeocello works to reconcile a newfound religious interest with her cutting-edge, artistic lifestyle, the result is a moody, sultry ballad called "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart" and the Staples Singers-style treatment of Bill Withers' "Who Is He And What Is He To You."
As always, her half-sung/half-spoken lyrics move with their own power—like a Nikki Giovanni poem set to music. And the instrumental prowess she brings—fresh from past gigs backing everyone from Arrested Development to Lenny White—is a welcome addition.
So if you've ever complained about the formulaic nonsense that passes for soul these days, you owe it to yourself to own this record. You may never get another chance to strike such a decisive blow for black-owned creativity.
BLUES & SOUL
Jeff Lorez
May 8-June 10, 1996
If you want an insight as to why Meshell is such an angry soul, big clues are given with the dark, brooding 70's-styled "Make Me Wanna Holler" which is a spoken word account of her domestic life growing up. Hardly harmonious. But then haven't troubled souls always made the most interesting music?
MTV
Smith Galtney
February 23, 2001
Ndegeocello's debut, 1993's Plantation Lullabies, was the perfect remedy for anyone who may have taken songs like Public Enemy's "Sophisticated Bitch" too seriously. Meshell siphoned hip-hop's essence with a spoken-word delivery, tackling subjects like poverty, addiction, and interracial love over a cocktail-style funk straight outta tha '70s. Her plucky basslines and economical groove-sense insured a smooth ride, and on "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)" she was also devilishly playful.
Three years later, she returns with her sophomore effort, and this time around, Meshell abandons the mischief of that single for a bold, in-your-face album that delves deep into sex and religion like no one since Al Green. From its opening lines, "Jesus cured the blind man so he could see the sins of the world," she guides us through a corrupt, lopsided world where "maybe Judas was the good man" and kind deeds can't be taken at face value. As she walks through the ruins, the main question on Meshell's mind isn't exactly "Where is the love?" but more like "How will the love survive?"
The first half of the record is a politically-charged hotwire. The most audacious track by far is "Leviticus: Faggot," a piercing account of one gay man's sexual awakening that recalls Bronski Beat's "Smalltown Boy." But where Jimmy Sommerville's screeching falsetto inflated that song with melodrama, Meshell's deadpan execution fleshes out a number of ways of viewing the issue. When she sings "his mother will pray 'save him from this life'," she lets us view, if not understand, both sides of the story. It's an effect she also works into "Mary Magdalene," a song about lust and devotion that sounds equally sensual and scandalous.
The second half of the record explores matters of the heart with lilting, soulful numbers like "Bittersweet" and "Stay." A cover of Bill Withers' "Who Is He And What Is He To You" is a fitting choice for this '70s-style womanchild; Meshell's own bisexuality opens that song to a whole complex range of interpretations. She even cops a phrase from her spiritual progenitor for the album's closer, "Make Me Wanna Holler"; just like Marvin Gaye, she maintains her quiet cool and never screams out loud. She simply lets out a deep moan while her bass does all it can to keep hope, and love, alive.
TAMPA TRIBUNE
Philip Booth
September 20, 1996
Meshell Ndegeocello's new Peace Beyond Passion album may be as packed
with funky grooves and sweet soul vocals as its predecessor, 1993's Plantation Lullabies.
JAZZ HOUSTON
Andrew Lienhard
July 12, 1997
Meshell Ndegeocello's name may not be household, but it certainly has been floating around for a while. In jazz circles she has an established reputation for her solid, funkified bass playing — maybe you saw her playing in Ellen DeGeneris's all-woman band on the Grammy's. Like most of the unenlightened, I really didn't know what to expect from her as a pop vocalist and composer. Now I'm a huge fan.
Her music draws heavily from the funk and R&B of the early 70's (Stevie, Herbie, Duke, Donny Hathaway), yet it sounds completely new. Also similar to music of that era is the political and social ideals expressed in the lyrics. "The Way" which may seem to be conveying a postive religious message ("They say you're the Light, the way") is actually a song about her ambivalence towards Christianity ("I'm so ashamed on bended knees/ Prayin' to my pretty white Jesus"). Ndegeocello freely voices her opinions on religion, racism, and homosexuality and often does so with humor.
Regardless of your take on these topics, you won't be able to deny the genius of the music. I won't go on too much. Just listen to this record. Ndegeocello is an amazing new talent.
LAUNCH
Chuck Crisafulli
June 25, 1998
Grade: 75/100
The latest funkfest from Ms. Meshell is so gorgeous it hurts. Painfully sweet grooves, affecting lyricism and aching melodies brought to life with Ndegeocello's sublime, throaty alto—it's enough to bring a listener to tears, even as that listener's booty begins twitching in synch with the super-seductive basslines. This is the follow-up to her formidable 1993 debut, Plantation Lullabies, and proves quite handily that Meshell is one of the deepest, smartest talents making records these days.
Something of a high concept album, Peace Beyond Passion is packed with songs that use biblical and religious imagery to explore issues of love, lust and sensuality. With Ndegeocello's multi-instrumental hands aided by those of aces like Joshua Redman and Billy Preston, the music is exquisitely layered and powerfully soulful. The grooves are always strong, but this is an album of nuance—the hard snap of "Deuteronomy: Niggerman" gives way to the soaring romance of "Ecclesiastes: Free My Heart," and "God Shiva" is a declaration of belief set to an irresistible, straight-on strut. A love song to that famous Nazarene whore, "Mary Magdalene" is a beautiful blend of sinfulness and sweet nothings.
From a lot of songwriters, love-talk is just so much sticky dumb-dumb syrup, but Meshell's mix of sentiment, spirit and carnality is enlightening. And she's worked some dual-purpose magic into the sounds: Play Peace Beyond Passion in the morning and you've got a wonderful devotional to bless your day with; play it at night with that special someone nearby, and you've got music that's perfect for rubbing testaments together.
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