Showing posts with label En Vogue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label En Vogue. Show all posts

Tuesday, 14 September 2010

En Vogue - Masterpiece Theatre (2000)

It had only been 3 years after scoring a massive US #2 with the heavyweight love song exuberance of Don't Let Go (Love), and En Vogue were on a schedule no more delayed than any other studio album they had released. However, their cultural moment (Funky Divas from 1993) was a thing of the past in 2000 when they released the very classy indeed Masterpiece Theatre. Surviving without Dawn Robsinson, who left and was always my favourite, it was up to Cindi, Terry and the ravishing vocals of Maxine to deliver something special and special they did.

All three take shots at their cheatin' men on the snappy Riddle, which was thankfully remixed by Stargate for its strategy as a single. The album version fits the album's textures, but would have made no sense on the radio (and the louder edit submitted, whilst more emphatic, lost the pay-attention struture somewhat). Stripped down to hang all hope on harmony, almost-acapella No No No (Can't Come Back) can't quite light the same match struck on their debut album. It's polite, but their sass won't give guys boners with their wits and innuendo as it had done before. It's nice and good, but formulaic in the absence of a bit more kink. Under the duvet ballad Falling In Love is gorgeous and vocal technique par excellence (choice diss: 'I'm a business queen in a corporate kingdom').

Intended to follow-up Riddle, Love U Crazay was a last minute addition to the album, shrewdly sampling the Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. The spectacular, almost-opera Love Won't Take Me Out is my own choice for tour de force histrionics. When Maxine growls 'he's so beneathe me' it's a genuine (Lucy) pearl-clutching moment for the type who watch Oprah, which is the idea according to the album's one and only interlude. These funky divas sure can sell a ballad, and the piano-drizzle of Sad But True is part of the cinematic 'suite' concept of the album, and really delivers everything we want from them: sun-kissed, succulent and slightly-superciliously highbrow harmonies ('you must take the time to deal with it'). Oh so true. The film-score sequence comes to a poignant end on Whatever Will Be Will Be, a twinkly ballad that is the album's Too Gone No Fool, Too Long No More or whatever. Sounding frail but undiminished, this one gets top marks from me. My gal Maxine's juice is thick and more calorific than pint of Bailey's (she's not to be messed with basically), upset Terry's chin-up middle-8 hollers from the back row, and Cindi leads the stoic chorus with her crisp top notes raining heaviest. Soothing whilst sounding like utter agony at the same time. One has to wonder what the two cancelled tracks (due to be part of the 'suite') would have sounded like after the girls failed to have the samples approved!

Slow-burning heat gets close and personal on the Shirley Bassey bass-tastic Beat of Love, 'from the jazzy to the cool' indeed. The NME rightly praised the girls for sounding stoned! The only song remotely signifying current trends at the time, Latin Soul doesn't require much explanation, with a bare piano quick step and breathless 'ooh ahhs' second only to Gina G. Swanky 'jam' Work It Out squats all over Beyonce's own constipated turtle-dead of a song with the same name. When Terry gets bored on the phone ('I got things to DO!') she can't help herself ('you need ME! You need ME!'). Where more attitude is needed, Those Dogs exposes the only thing this album needs more of. The memphis vibes oozing out of Number One Man caramalises the album to a close with their honey-treacle a perfect match for the Dusty-ness of it all.

The lighter, but well-thought, production is solid, the girls on polished and ever-elegant fine form, and the songs are cautious, weary and convey their age-appropriate pre-Desperate Housewives heartache issues and bedroom needs with derranged applomb that sadly didn't blast the charts. Their most ambitious, most underrated album - the title says it all.

Rating:

8.5/10

Wednesday, 19 May 2010

En Vogue - RNB's Desperate Housewives

En Vogue's z-snapping 2000 Stargate-remixed comeback single Riddle really ought to have returned them to the charts, with their gothic glamour vamped up and vaccum-cleaning lyrics juxtoposed on one of the strangest ever no-you-didn't girlband anthems. En Vogue still remain the sexiest girl group silouette of all time bar none - their vocal class was equally unbeatable, and momentarily they were quite the phenomenon in their native United States.



Competing with the likes of Destiny's Child and TLC in a Billboard Hot 100 climate dominated by pop was always going to be a struggle for these soul sisters, and the Stargate Radio Mix is a stunning tour de force, but perhaps the song's structure was far too elaborate for its own good as far as relating to the yoof-dominated market. With a thunderous orchestra emphasizing darkness and horror, some sizzlin' hot ass hunk of chocolate has been caught out by these put-upon and putting-out ladies putting 2 and 2 together. Each member scorned gets her two-cents and probably earned as much in royalties given its chart poitions (USA #92, UK #33) - ouch! The explorative verses are neverending sources of pleasure, keeping funky and flavoursome whilst counting down reality.

Maxine feels something strange about her fellas kiss on Monday morning, then when knocking back cocktails with the girls only sees his car outside their favourite resturaunt on Tuesday - she's not gon' believe it until her 'eyes see what I thought was true' and you'd think she would just leave it that, but hell no we have plenty more where that came from.

Likewise, it is not until Wednesday that Terry's twitchin for the tooth. Ellis stands her ground the best way someone who doesn't have a job can - oh yes, her man leaves his briefcase when he SAID he had work. And after checking caller id she DON'T know nobody named Tyrone... Nu uh, cue the rhapsodic finger-waving chorus.

Finally, Cindi doesn't find out until it's the weekend - cos you knows thats the days she does her cleanin' innit - and finds clumps of black woman hair she wouldn't be caught dead with. Case/briefcase closed.

Currently destroying Christina Aguilera's career if tirelessly annoying rabid popjustice posters are to be believed, none other than C. 'Tricky' Stewart is behind the Red Zone Remix Edit, which is a mild groove completely outshone by the impressive latin-flavoured Club Remix Edit, which deserves more of a title. It's a sizzling stir fry of J-Lo and Gloria remixes tossed and intoxicated Miami gay club inflections those two divas would sell their henpecked husbands for.

The album version (simply named as Radio Edit on the CD) really does not stand up as a radio mix (the Masterpeice Theatre album was all about their impeccable vocal aesthetic and has a coherence not meant to be served in acute slices). Also. three MILFs in their late 30s singing about finding weaves in their man's washing did not really scream empowerment the way Independent Women or No Scrubs did, but to see it that way was to miss the point, as the lyric continues:

And when I washed your shirts I just could not believe
I'm picking hair weave off your sleave
Found a letter in your pocket from Louise - puh-lease!

Highbrow campness galore, their concept album Masterpeice Theatre is a classic, and Riddle an interesting and highly-rewarding attempt to crossover that was sadly far too glam for mainstream radio to get.

Saturday, 22 December 2007

Bruised & Rouged Club Whores


Nearing the end of my December dissection, a disco blast from the past comes from the most unlikeliest of fierce club whores. En Vogue get crucial by cranking up the camp to RuPaul levels of pant-wetting excitement on their jittery trash-tastic interpretation of Jingle Bells that knows no distinction between tragic and fabulous. Hilariously, it is the closest the girls have ever came to recording Free Your Mind Part 2. Gutsy, glitzy gusto is their winning formula here, delivering a bruised-and-rouged rousing rendition that is like being bitch-slapped by Christmas upon impact, with all the adrenaline of shoplifting for presents, or Dannii Minogue sunbathing with no top. On the whole, the remaining tracks from their internet-only Christmas album - The Gift of Christmas - cannot compete, yet this disco diversion is not a previously unexplored avenue for the MILF's of commercial Rn'B. Their underrated single Riddle spawned a Miami-style remix package that an afro-sporting Gloria Estefan would have swam all the way back to Cuba to snatch. The rampantly addictive Jingle Bells proposes a gallant Hi-NRG offering that sounds a miraculous reinvention in more senses than one.

Jingle Bells (Euro Mix)
Jingle Bells (Rock Mix)
Jingle Bells (Instrumental)