Did it all start with Mariah Carey? Oh, it would be so unfair to pin it all on one person. I would like to somehow force Destiny’s Child to share the blame, but they’re merely copycats. And Christina Aguilera? Merely following a trend.
The early ’90s brought with it a change in the style of R&B vocals; one which began somewhat subtlely, but quickly spun out of control. What started as the climax, filling that crucial moment of a song with power and emotion, has turned into a pissing contest. However, it happened so gradually that many didn’t even notice. And for a time, it was even critically lauded.
From the 1950s through the 1970s, it’s easy to point out the greats of R&B and soul music. Innovator after innovator marched onto the scene, remaking and redefining culture with radical twists of style. From doo-wop to Motown to funk to disco, “the hills were alive,” so-to-speak. Soul music, as derived from gospel roots, was meant to grab you by the heart and make you feel the music. The emotion of blues was married to the varied structures of pop to give it new life. And when one wasn’t overcome with heart-wrenching and reflection, one was encouraged to embrace joy through exuberant means — dancing, singing, jumping, hollering. Simply put, there was no sleeping away this music.
As the 1980s rolled in, disco was stomped on and the age of electronics took over full-force. R&B was still around, but primary focus seemed to be on the fledgling rap phenomenon. Everything else did its best to meld into pop, desperately trying to be marketable in a business that was quickly becoming more about money than about innovation. Anyone remember “Jump” by the Pointer Sisters? It may be the perfect example. Lionel Richie, anyone? Billy Ocean?
Earlier, there had always been divas of soul and R&B. Aretha Franklin, The Supremes, Gladys Knight, even up through the disco age to include Donna Summer, Alicia Bridges, and countless others. Toss in their male equivalents — the Temptations, James Brown, Marvin Gaye, Sly & the Family Stone, far more than anyone could name in one paragraph — and you’ve got a veritable collection of voices with not just power, but also the ability to move the audience. The songwriting, while sometimes crafted by songwriting houses rather than the artists, was focused on evoking a reaction from the listener. Most notably, ballads were constructed as if to lay out the base emotion through words and then accentuate the reality of this emotion by pounding out a blistering crescendo. By using fantastically talented voices, this formula was known to drive audiences to a fever pitch.
But with the ’80s came a focus on style. MTV was born, leaving the Martha Washs of the universe to be stuffed in a corner where they couldn’t be seen. Everyone had to be pretty. “Marketability” gradually shifted further away from talent and headlong into image. This is no secret to anyone and is nearly blinding in retrospect. While many noticed the dropoff in quality of songwriting, nobody really pointed out how bland R&B had become. One of the biggest hits of the decade, “The Greatest Love of All” by Whitney Houston, was written fitting the time-tested techniques of ballad construction; yet, looking back on its lyrical content and listening to the delivery of Ms. Houston, it all seems rather plastic. And when you start tossing in other big R&B names towards the end of the decade — Jody Watley, Taylor Dayne, Bobby Brown — it’s almost sad.
What happened to R&B with the turn of the next decade almost seemed like a re-focus on gospel roots. In stepped Mariah Carey with her single “Vision of Love,” captivating an audience that was used to watching people draped in sequins and gold lamé. She was the hallmark of something different happening to this genre, a re-claiming of the past. The song itself is very traditionally written in structure, almost to the point of cliché; however, the delivery was meant to assert, “we’ve forgotten about the talent in our gospel roots.” Her entire album was nearly created in this light, as even her half-dippy pop songs were crafted to showcase her vocal ability.
It began slowly. One can point to Boyz II Men as helpers in facilitating the resurgence above and beyond mere pop by bringing the New Jack Swing style to the forefront of popular music. En Vogue brought back a tradition of female soul and R&B that had long since been abandoned, using their voices to the fullest potential but while keeping a pop flavor that wouldn’t alienate the audience. Slowly but surely, more and more artists came out of the woodwork to capitalize on this movement: Jodeci, Mary J. Blige, SWV, Montell Jordan. Artists whose fame surfaced primarily in the ’80s jumped on this bandwagon as well, from Janet Jackson to Whitney Houston.
But a curious thing started happening. It’s as if the pop world saw the talented artists who were blooming before them, but record companies thought to themselves, “how can we make even more money with this?” Before anyone realized it, mainstream pop became flooded with “super-talented” singers. Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys, Destiny’s Child, Christina Aguilera, *NSYNC… the list goes on and on. Nobody could doubt the abilities of this new breed. But by the time the year 2000 rolled around, it became painfully obvious that the marketing behind them wasn’t their music. Yet the industry could hide behind their voices, constantly claiming that this wasn’t sex they were selling. The artists themselves would proclaim on a regular basis that they were virgins or in some other way pure as the driven snow. It’s all about the music, everyone said.
But how could it possibly be about the music at this point? The quality of the songs themselves had regressed back to the ’80s, except with all subtlety removed. Destiny’s Child’s “Bootylicious”? As if we, as peon music listeners, didn’t already feel removed enough from the world of superstardom: thanks for pointing out that you’re much hotter than we are. Britney Spears’ “Lucky”? People want to hear songs they can relate to, and listening to a millionaire pop star crying about how hard it is to be famous is nothing short of revolting. But the marketing kept flowing, MTV and the radio kept spinning it, and there was no escaping it.
Over the course of the last decade and a half, the record industry had managed to change the way the audience perceived music as a whole. The angle had shifted from, “Here is an artist. We hope you like them” to “Here is our creation. You will buy their records. Orange is the new pink.” Artist selection became an art of finding a girl who can sing and training her to look, sound, and act however it was fashionable. By doing this, the record companies would promote them on a massive scale and people would buy their records. And that’s the end of the list. In fact, that’s the entire premise of the wildly popular television reality show, “American Idol.”
Still, there’s something worse than exploitation, something horrible that has happened right under our noses: the voice, the soul of R&B has been completely destroyed. Rather than utilizing one’s voice as an instrument that compliments the music, it’s become nothing but a masturbatory showcase. Great, you can sing. That’s wonderful. But do you need to prove to us every three seconds that you can sing 40 notes in succession, complete with vibrato? What does this do to make the song better? What is the point? When Aretha would go off the deep end, it fit. In her ballads, gospel, and bluesy songs, was there as a climax: the point towards which the entire song had been building. In her uptempo numbers, the music was rousing in nature and called for an emotional reaction throughout. The singing was a reflection of the soul within.
Is there any hope for change? Unfortunately, the new style of singing as if someone was shaking you by your vocal chords is in. Not only is it in, but the general public sees this ability as talent. This isn’t to say that a vocal utilized well would tank, because most people notice the beat before they notice the singing. But, the audience wouldn’t be able to tell you why the simpler approach sounds better. Soul music is an emotional manipulation, and that’s the reason it’s been around as long as it has. What we have today is cute, but by no means powerful. And it will never be powerful until someone sits down with these kids and shows them why Aretha is a legend and why they’ll merely be footnotes.
* A big thanks to this guy for getting me all fired up on this topic.
