Published on Nov 4, 1998
I feel almost uncomfortable reviewing
The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill because I seem to be the
only person who doesn’t “get” it; from TIME magazine to my friends
on the hip-hop mailing list I run, everyone is tripping over Lauryn
Hill’s new solo album. Whether it’s the appeal of her genuine
independence, her unusually strong lyricism or the obvious beauty
of her voice, she’s managed to top album charts and prompt the
usual tired ass “New Queen of Hip-Hop” terminology we critics seem
to adore.
Any artist who can rap as good as she can sing is worth
attention in urban music (does anyone else find guest rappers doing
their ten second thing in bridges of songs annoying?). Just a hint
of reggae blended with intellect and honesty, plus vocal texturing
from the ’70s (Motown for the ’90s) makes for straightforward,
no-posturing records. Every R&B and hip-hop artist should be
forced to listened to “Superstar” (“Come on baby light my fire /
Everything you drop is so tired / Music is supposed to inspire”).
In fact, the entire album is not an example of the best of urban
music; it’s a study on what the genre SHOULD be.
Soulful harmonies in “Doo Wop (That Thing)” , “When It Hurts So
Bad” and concious rap lyrics in “Final Hour” , “Lost Ones” are
quality quality quality. Production is sparse but textured, and it
doesn’t distract from Hill’s messages. But the classroom interludes
in between are irritating and there are maybe one or two tracks
that tend to be tedious such as the duet with D’Angelo, “Nothing
Even Matters”.
Consistent, honest, and well-performed. If you rave over Missy
Elliot but Mary J. Blige leaves you cold, it’ll take time to grow
on you. If
Share My World gets a lot of airplay on your CD player,
chances are you’ll find more in the album than I did.