|
|
|
» The Archives
|
:::Music Review:::
|
 |
Anthony Hamilton – Comin’ Where I’m From
by William Ashanti Hobbs
author and co-owner of Meroen Press
December 2003
With the neo-soul, post Love Jones-movie era firmly
established, it’s only natural that there becomes
distinctions within the genre (or subgenre) itself.
Angie Stone will pick up the Gladys Knight vibe.
Despite forays into go-go music, Jill Scott will be
known for an urban jazziness of Billie Holiday.
Bohemian Erykah Badu will be the starchild that scared
the stew out of everybody in efforts to shed her
afrocentric, headwrap-and-incense days.
|
|
Aside from D’Angelo and Maxwell, the men have basically played
catch-up in this arena, donning cowrie shells and
three-quarter leathers to give the girls somebody to
duet with. Anthony Hamilton attempts to add depth to
the male side with his sophomore album "Comin’ Where
I’m From." One thing’s certain here: the dirty south
done finally got hold to neo-soul.
Hamilton has made guest appearances with artists like
the Nappy Roots (Wooden Leather), 2Pac ("Thugz
Mansion" to Roy Hargrove (RH Factor)– and maintains
his scraggly bearded, Hennessey-and-coke-seasoned
delivery throughout.
The first cut "Mama Knew Love"
takes you to a child’s appreciation for their mother
with Southern-steeped lines that still transfer to any
region: "up bright and early, scrambled eggs, swellin’
in ya legs, bills on the bed."
|
|
This ain’t an ode to
mothers that keep their kids from going to school by
sleepin’ in on weekdays and feedin’ ‘em Ramen noodles
for breakfast and lunch. This is a heartfelt tribute
to true mothers.
"Cornbread, Fish and Collard Greens" is about as
playful as Hamilton gets with a story of a
thick-hipped and sassy small town girl coming across a
"jheri-curled" country pimp. You’d think this one is
silly and totally foppish, but the lines can be heard
in mostly any hole-in-the-wall. "Since I Seen’t You"
(spelled just like that) is spacious and dark with
bass and organ-sounding keys. Picture a grown man with
a dead-end job with no benefits. Picture him driving
down the freeway at midnight with his FICA-riddled
paycheck, a Heineken between his legs and no other
casual excuses left to use to go and see a woman that
has captivated his world.
There are anticlimactic moments as well. There’s a
gnawing, brooding atmosphere created that may be
mistaken for the authentic "blues" feel, perhaps an
attempt to secure a serious listen by covering almost
ninety percent hard luck/ struggle subject matter. The
result tends to dry up moments best left fluid. An
example is "Charlene" which is about love lost, but is
a casualty of trying too hard. Everything progresses
well enough until the background singers chime in at
the end. They are forced to hit notes so strained and
high, you can imagine the producer sending Suge Knight
creeping into the booth and standing behind them for
motivation. "Comin’ Where I’m From" is the title track
that enjoys video rotation, so we all know it’s
soulful testimony to the hazards black men face in
today without the comic book hyberbole of rap. "My
First Love" with Snoop Dogg’s LaToiya Williams has
potential, but has the residue of two singers
competing for control of the song, mainly because
Williams stormy soulfulness could easily possess the
track (as she does to Jay-Z in "All Around the
World"). "Chyna Black"’s acoustic setting is still
dark but a change of pace, skillfully pushed to the
back of the CD. It begins and keeps a restless,
Counting Crows/college radio type feel that allows
Hamilton the only crossover potential on the album.
Not that it's needed to make the album notable;
Hamilton's style can be admired by whites, but his
essence belongs to the southern black juke joints,
porches and pulpits. All in all, Hamilton’s CD is a
worthwhile and shameless attempt to reconnect blacks
sterilized by shopping malls, Domino’s Pizza and
traffic jams back to home-made soul food, Sunday
school and enough open space to truly feel again.
|
|
|
