In the midst of elaborate preparation on the ambitious project with which I will fully launch this new experimental addition to the blogosphere, it was brought to my attention that today marks the anniversary of the birth of another modern artistic genius - albeit one of a much different medium and different generation - of whose career exists a similarly solid and fascinating visual record. And so I offer this small, irreverent tribute, in honor of her 28th birthday, to the pop music behemoth today known simply as Beyoncé.
First of all, if you want to a) get a nice little shock; b) suddenly feel incredibly old; or c) all of the above, back up once more for a second and take another look at the picture above...and then on to the one below.
Thou Shall Say Mah Name
For those playing the home game, yes, it has in fact been TEN YEARS since the first important black female pop group since En Vogue took over the airwaves - and the Grammy Awards - with their sophomore album The Writing's On the Wall. In case you doubt that a decade has passed since the Houston foursome told the ladies to leave their men at home (the club is, after all, full of ballers, and they pockets full grown), give a listen to one of the big hits from the album, "Bills, Bills, Bills," wherein Beyoncé and company rail against a guy so clingy they want to "tell MCI to cut the phone pole" and "have AOL make my email stop." The biggest hit, though, was "Say My Name," which for some reason won two Grammy awards (Pitchfork.com recently deigned to include "Jumpin' Jumpin' at #232 on its Best 500 Songs of the 2000s list while omitting "Say My Name"...but more on that list very soon.) and ended up becoming the group's biggest hit ever.
I remember being introduced to the album my freshman year of high school in Behavioral Health class, incidentally the site of many other introductions to the real world, for better or worse. I was a good two or three years away from truly appreciating and enjoying the R&B/hip-hop side of pop music, but those girls were hugely influential to the development of my own musical taste and style. My favorite track, though, not surprisingly, was the "Outro," an acapella rendition of "Amazing Grace" that hit my weakness for close harmonies dead on. In fact, at a recent miniature golf outing for my close friend's birthday, one of the guests (whom I had not met before that evening) and I made our way through the entire song as performed by Destiny's Child down to the last embellishment, as we maneuvered the 13th and 14th holes. It was divine.
It was already clear that Beyoncé's talent was incredible and far outshadowed the rest of the group; when two of the original girls left (or were fired, depending on the source) the group amid tensions with the group's manager - and Beyoncé's daddy - Mathew Knowles, Michelle Williams was brought on board alongside the surviving half, Kelly Rowland and Beyoncé, natch. That's about when I lost interest in DC, mainly because I think Williams' voice is appalling, and have yet to be persuaded otherwise. There were a few brief episodes the trio managed to get my attention, the first being their knockout single "Independent Women Part I" for the soundtrack to Charlie's Angels, and the second with the combination of one fantastically muscular white backup dancer and Beyoncé with long blonde hair in the video for "Bootylicious," just about the time I was discovering Tigerheat and all that. Oh, and I did waste my money on the 8 Days of Christmas album, and never quite forgave them (although I have since learned that the haphazardly slapped-together Christmas album is a standard offense from studios with hot new talent, so I can't hold as much of a grudge).
Knowles and the Blonde Hairdo That Captured My...Something?
Then the insane, hyperactive, melodically non-resolving horns of "Crazy in Love" began to infiltrate my radio. At first I thought Destiny's Child had really lost it, and when I learned it was the first solo effort from Ms. Knowles (finally)...I still didn't really like it. Then came "Baby Boy," and my interest was piqued, and Dangerously in Love joined my notably short list of albums I have ever purchased in my lifetime, along with Kylie Minogue's Body Language, and those two albums became the soundtrack of much of the following months, which I remember fondly for many reasons, musical and not-so. I didn't much care for the album as it turned out, although "Me, Myself and I" remains one of my all-time favorite down-tempo tracks.
Uh Oh Uh Oh Uh Oh Oh No No...
After paying the last lip service to Destiny's Child, which evoked mostly yawns since Beyoncé's/Daddy Knowles' planned career path trajectory had been glaringly obvious from the very beginning, Knowles made a couple incredibly bold steps that probably would have backfired on any other artists. First came a pair of B-list comedies, Austin Powers in Goldmember and the predictably regrettable Steve Martin remake of The Pink Panther; that wasn't so far out of the ordinary.
But then came the first truly genius moment of Beyoncé's career: Dreamgirls. Not only was this pop diva campaigning like crazy for a role in what was sure to be the next great movie musical of the 21st century, she took on arguably the most difficult role in the film, at least to act. (Yeah, yeah, Jennifer Hudson brought down the house with an admirably solid performance, but subtle it was not.) Consider this: Knowles' role, Deena Jones, was of course an allegory of Diana Ross - and that alone is no small responsibility. But with Knowles playing the part, it wasn't just Diana Ross that came to mind as the story of a group of young black singers unfolded: the whole story was almost uncomfortably evocative of...Destiny's Child and Beyoncé Knowles. Even with the deeper issues aside, Deena is the quintessential supporting role (despite the producers' submissions for acting awards that season, submitting Knowles for leading role and Hudson for supporting, guaranteeing a questionably deserved Oscar for the latter); for the first half of the film she's mostly background, and even after the character's fortunes improve halfway through, Dreamgirls is Effie White's story, not Deena Jones. She even managed to pull off "Listen," obviously added in an effort to make up for all these facts and give Knowles a moment in the belting spotlight, performing the number with her usual virtuosity without seeming to be, well, showing off. I admit I was thoroughly impressed by Beyoncé's performance in Dreamgirls, more so than I had been to that point in her career.
For the record, that's a pre-Winehouse beehive do
But all glory is fleeting: Beyoncé tackled a sophomore album, which dropped while I was trying to stay alive in London for a year, and some of you know that was no easy feat, so it sort of passed me by. From the reviews and reactions I've since read, B'Day apparently passed a lot of people by, some put off by Beyoncé's musical experimentation (how dare she!?) and others by a reportedly poor choice of released singles. However, "Irreplaceable" topped the Hot 100 for a whopping 10 weeks, and her surprisingly successful duet with Shakira (whom I typically abhor), "Beautiful Liar," was another Grammy-nominated hit, while the frightfully sexy video reminded the world that Beyoncé could move to keep up with any Latina wonder (and those curves...still delicious).
Booty. Licious. *Drools*
Then suddenly Beyoncé was EVERYWHERE: the Oscars. The Grammys. She played another music icon, Etta James, in the film Cadillac Records, this time not under the safety of allegory - and she even handled the most immature display of classlessness and artistic arrogance in recent memory when James suddenly began publicly insulting Knowles and her performance after months of steady approval and praise. The Presidential Inauguration (singing James' "At Last," and doing so every bit as well if not even better than the cranky jazz legend ever did...so there!). The Oscars again (what the hell was that Broadway medley?). If she hadn't continued to display incredible musical talent and, perhaps even more important, immense charm and likeability, I'm positive there would have at some point been a situation involving torch-wielding villagers. Even with her numerous and significant assets, Beyoncé exhaustion was apparent in the press and among critics. But she made a shitload of money, so I say you go girl.
Wait, is the First Lady Showing Her ARMS?!?!
Then came her bizarre third album, I Am...Sasha Fierce. Like B'Day, it was short and almost seemed to have been put together hastily, and the artistic choice to split it into two thematic disks was interesting but a) had just been done, and done much better, by Christina Aguilera and b) just highlighted the pithy track count of five songs on each. "If I Were a Boy" was not offensive, picking up the simple-to-produce ballad trail where "Irreplaceable" left off. But then "Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It)" dropped: the second moment of genius for Beyoncé. At first listen, the song was baffling, even harsh, with rhythms that made no sense, noises that were many things except musical, and lyrics that didn't seem to match either Beyoncé's publicized personal life of late (having married long-time boyfriend Jay-Z months before) nor the message of "If I Were a Boy." Then came the video that inspired a thousand imitations, from a hilarious Justin Timberlake sketch on Saturday Night Live to possibly the gayest YouTube video since "Leave Britney Alone!" OK, sure, it was a ripoff of an old Bob Fosse routine that Gwen Verdon had performed on The Ed Sullivan Show decades earlier, and sure, it did make slightly more sense once Beyoncé tried to explain the split personality theme behind the album (and also didn't), but it captured fans by the millions just as it was becoming apparent that Britney Spears' big comeback had really become a legitimate success. Follow that with two more rapidly released singles and Sasha Fierce dominated the charts for most of the spring before the Black Eyed Peas stepped in to rule the summer.
Sasha Fierce; aka Beyoncé's excuse for anything uncharacteristic
While writing this collection of fun facts, I've realized that on the whole I have never cared for most of Beyoncé's original music, with several exceptions. But I stand by my claim at the opening of this piece that she is a genius. She has such an incredible instrument, which in itself sets her apart, but more importantly she demonstrates control over it in the manner of a gifted but also hard-working musician. In a period in pop music (which has grown to include musical theatre) where belting and loud, powerful singing is expected of and idolized in female performers, the byproduct of Whitney Houston, Celine Dion and the godawful American Idol, many singers have wrecked their voices well before turning 35 (Pink and Alicia Keys come to mind) by neglecting the care and upkeep Beyoncé has so far managed to display.
Photo accompanying the New Yorker article. They are so pimp.
And there's a lot to be said about maintaining general likeability, a feat few people ever manage within or outside celebrity. She doesn't parade her personal life in front of the paparazzi and then complain about their/our obsession with her; despite always having been top of the class, she has never seemed arrogant; she is the consummate professional, not immune to artistic missteps but never appearing clumsy either. And, as if all that weren't enough, she even managed to merit an entire critical article in my beloved pinnacle of wisdom, The New Yorker, wherein her genius was similarly (albeit more eruditely) examined.
So here's to Beyoncé Knowles on her 28th birthday, making this 25-year-old feel incredibly unaccomplished in some ways. Then again, if I did what Beyoncé does, there would probably be know-it-all armchair critics picking apart my every move...and who wants to deal with THAT?
