It’s no secret that no one wants to continue living in the year 2020. Every day, every moment feels like a fresh hell thought up by a twisted horror novelist in the 1950’s. During my time in quarantine, I’ve relied heavily on my most favorite albums to make the days slightly less miserable, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. In doing this I realized a common theme between three of those albums: they all were released in the year 2000. 20th anniversaries are meant to be meaningful, but with so much loss, hurt, confusion, and corruption this year, I felt as though these albums didn’t get the proper celebration they deserved. And when you love something, you’ve got to put in the effort, right? That’s why I’ll be writing a sweet little ode to each of them, as a thank you for all the joy they’ve given me over the years.
Today’s landmark album: Aijuswanaseing - Musiq Soulchild
The genre of neo-soul holds a very special place in my heart. It’s one of the last genres that transports you to the era in which it was released, and the history behind its conception is just as transportive as the music it spawned. Though something about it never sat right with me, and that is the collective erasure of Musiq Soulchild. Sure, his debut album was released on the latter end of the neo-soul explosion, but let’s not forget that his project came out the same year as D’Angelo’s Voodoo. The public may not have been as captivated by its unique reimagining of music as they once were, but you can’t say that the genre was anywhere near cultural extinction in the year 2000.
Aijuswanaseing (pronounced “I Just Wanna Sing”) is packed with the off-kilter melodies and ultra-specific lyrics that make up all the best R&B songs. The instrumentation is vivid and pulsating, and the emotions that fill this album are extremely palpable. But most importantly, Aijuswanaseing was a collaborative effort, just like every classic neo-soul album. From the usual suspects like Questlove, James Poyser, Black Thought, and Jill Scott, to several unknown female performers like AYANA and AAries, this project has all the makings of a required neo-soul listening. Instead, 20 years later, it has become a hidden gem in the treasure trove that is the neo-soul legacy.
This is an album full of lessons and laughs, oscillating between longing and loving. It was designed with every typ e of mood and feeling there is so the listener can walk away with the message they needed the most. For instance, “Girl Next Door,” tells the story of two kids retroactively falling for each other. Musiq and AYANA have a tender back and forth about their attraction to one another that is very reminiscent of every Hallmark movie where a woman ends up back in her hometown against her wishes and somehow falls in love with her high school crush in a matter of three days. The difference here is that Musiq and AYANA actually have chemistry.
Then there's Musiq’s biggest hit of his career, “Just Friends (Sunny)” -- thank you Nutty Professor 2! The beat boxing...the harmonies...everything about this song is wonderful. Though if I had to come up with one critique, it would be that “Sunny” is never once said in the song. Is that the girl’s name? Did they meet on a sunny day? Was she drinking a Sunny-D? Musiq if you’re reading this I would love to discuss this over dinner. Following this peppy, cheery anthem is “Mary Go Round,” a relaxed, somber tune where Musiq laments about a woman named Mary “going around” and “hurting him so.” The way the verse melodies go up and down to mimic a horse on a merry-go-round was a brilliantly subtle touch. On a good day I can spell out the outro message both times with no issues, blindfolded, hands tied behind my back. On a normal day, however, I struggle to nail even one.
Bar none, the most special moment for me is track six and one of my favorite songs of all time, “143.” After pulling out all the stops to show his partner how much he loves her, Musiq realizes that sometimes simplicity makes the most meaningful impact. The sweetness of his tenor really shines through on this song, so much so that the first time I heard it, I listened to it five times in a row. Every element of the song stunned me: the songwriting, the vocals, the composition. “143” does not follow a normal song structure; it’s a song that comes in two parts. Part one is a straight-to-the-point ballad, while part two is a fanciful declaration of love that harkens back to the music of church. This song was my first introduction to Musiq Soulchild, and what an introduction it was. It’s only been a few years but it’s number three on my most listened to songs on Tidal.
If “143” is the start of Aijuswanaseing emotional apex, then the following song, “Love,” completes the climax. I always find the lyrics to this song uniquely fascinating, due to the fact that the song was originally titled “God.” The label did not want a religious song on the album, so he was forced to change every mention of God to “love.” The fact that the two words were so easily interchangeable, yet each version was able to maintain its powerful messaging, has always captivated me.
Unfortunately for me, I don’t have a distinct memory of the first time I listened to this album. One day it wasn’t in my life, and the next day it became my life. But that doesn’t lessen the impact that I’m sure it had when I first pressed play, because otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this love letter today. This isn’t an album that I “share” with anyone, meaning it was never the soundtrack to my hangouts with my friends in college. My relationship to Aijuswanaseing is purely singular, as I am the only one I have ever shared the listening experience with. Though to be honest, I wouldn’t want to have it any other way, because it is an album that not only demands your attention, but deserves it. Don’t get me wrong, songs like “L’ Is Gone” were made to be enjoyed in a group setting. But as an album experience, listening to Aijuswanaseing on your own is the best way to get out of the music what you put into it.
The album closes with a spellbinding seven minutes of affirmations called “You Be Alright.” With a closer like this, it’s impossible to walk away from this song and this album feeling anything less than joyful, uplifted, and unafraid. It sounds cliche, but at the time I discovered this project, it was absolutely crucial for me to learn how to be the latter. I was preparing to leave behind my cushy college life and to make a life all on my own. How could I not be afraid? Lucky for me, though, this album made it awfully hard to entertain the fear, because it only made me more and more excited for life with each listen. I still hold this sentiment today, so much so that I can listen to it during a year like 2020 and manage to feel the smallest crumb of hope after the final plunk of the piano, even if just for a moment. If you had told Musiq Soulchild 20 years ago that this album would one day provide at least one person reprieve from a global pandemic, I’m not sure what he would have said in response but he probably would have spelled it out to make it a lot more fun.
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