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:::Music Review:::
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Roy Hargrove Presents:
The RH Factor
by William Ashanti Hobbs
author and co-owner of Meroen Press
November 2003
Should there be a time in the near future that you’d
find yourself at my crib for a laid back get-together,
where there is a steady buzz of convo, and everybody
has settled into their positions of bartender,
jokester, flirt, comedian. . .
A jazzy CD will be
sparkling in the background, making the whole damn
thang seem more sophisticated than it really is.
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It’s owner is playing it halfway to see if you’re too
caught in the matrix of work, sleep and bowel
movements to recognize any of it.
The other reason would be, simply, that Roy Hargrove’s RH Factor is the
mid-twenty to thirty-something’s legit entrée into
soulful jazz, so those for a taste of the melodic
diaherrea that is Kenny G or that Bath & Bodyworks
talcum-powder jazz from Yanni need not apply.
Roy ain’t havin’ it, and I ain’t either.
Jazz trumpeter Roy Hargrove has been a sideman for the
likes of Erykah Badu and D'angelo. On the solo tip,
he’s amassed a solid series of albums that do justice
to everything from traditional and contemporary jazz
to Latin rhythms.
As with the other previous outings,
the R to the H flexes his connections with more
all-star collabos than an over-produced rapper that
can’t come up with enough flow or material to do an
album on their own two. Ah, but Hargrove does the
combos justice, rarely missing.
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"Hardgroove" is the ideal intro cut to reacquaint you
to live instrumentation. It has the suave atmosphere
of urban sophistication throughout. It along with "The
Joint" eventually loosens its tie and kicks up the
heat. This will be the point that you’ll pause your
conversation with whomever to try and catch everywhere
the groove is going.
Another stepper is the boppy and playful "Pastor T."
It’s reminiscent of the Paisley Park jazz group
Madhouse sans the ersatz moans and sensual whispers.
Keith Anderson’s saxophone solo makes a home out of
the ebullient mood.
The funk is so deep on the mellow P-funk inspired
"I’ll Stay" that you will check your armpits after
each verse. D’Angelo is channeling Al Green on the
vocals, getting’ his milk-mouth mumble on somethin’
lovely and actin’ a damn fool on the Wurlitzer. I’m
tellin’ you, you’ll want to get a black leather
trenchcoat and walk in the rain with a cigarette in
the middle of the night with this one. "Kwah/Home"
sets Michelle Ndegeocello to bumpin’ it easy on bass
while Anthony Hamilton lays on catfish-and-grits-
flavored vocals of soul, mustard and hot sauce
included.
Poetry, featuring Q-Tip sounds like something the
Tribe Called Quest would have eventually done with its
loungy-red velvet sofa feel. Just before your mind
falls back completely into the calming fabric of the
jam, the melody changes into a melancholy, almost
Charlie Brown-Peanuts-like melody with Erykah Badu
crooning of the pain we all experience in trying "the
way to go."
There are weak spots though, such as the uninspired,
absent-minded-sounding rap of FAMU’s own Common on
"Common Free Style." We gotta support our own, but
dude sounded like he was trying to rap with a migraine
and a flashlight shining dead in his eyes. "Forget
Regret" takes the subdued vibe Common leaves and
strikes a nerve with Bobby Sparks’ squirrely B3 organ
and the confident vocal silk of newcomer Stephanie
McKay. "How I Know" comes in as a close second in
this regard. The unhurried, slow-drag-friendly "Liquid
Streets" soothes with a piano part by James Poyser
reminiscent of Pieces of a Dream. Hargrove also shines
with his trumpet work here as well. All in all, a fine
musician, and album, to grow the hell up and be
stylish to.
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