ARTS-ENTERTAINMENT -1.

By Farhan Haq Reprint | | Print |

NEW YORK, Sep 22 1998 (IPS) - The cover of singer-rapper Lauryn Hill’s new album is a revealing hint of symbolism: Hill’s dreadlocked hair and somber face are etched on a school desk, in homage to the cover of an old album by Bob Marley and the Wailers.

Nor is that the only parallel to Marley evoked by the album, ‘The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill’ (on Ruffhouse).

Hill uses the music to Marley’s ‘Concrete Jungle’ on one song, ‘Forgive Them Father’, and uses several musicians associated with the Wailers on others. More importantly, Hill’s solo debut – after two albums with the rap group The Fugees – shares the spiritually aware didacticism of Marley’s work, highlighting a record which has more to do with the Rastafarian values of reggae than of the materialism of present-day hip-hop.

In fact, just as much of Jamaica’s recent ‘conscious’ reggae stands in stark contrast to the guns-and-money style of dancehall music that dominates the radio, ‘The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill’ takes aim at the “jiggy” world of bank accounts and champagne typified by rappers like Sean ‘Puff Daddy’ Combs.

On her current hit ‘Doo Wop (That Thing)’, Hill sharply scolds men who “drink Cristal by the cases” but don’t “take care of their 3.2 kids”, and equally criticises women who try to wear their hair “like Europeans”.

Another song, ‘Lost Ones’ — which takes its chorus from the Jamaican dancehall hit ‘Bam Bam’ — takes issue with an unnamed rapper who has become devoted to material things, with Hill singing angrily, “You might win some/ But you really lost one.”

As a whole, Hill’s debut is a sharp slap at the prevailing rap world, in which most albums focus on gangster lifestyles, fast money and easy sex. Nor does Hill, who writes, produces and sings on most of the record, spend that much time rapping: Often, she appropriates the sing-song style of dancehall or sings with a mournful, blues-based edge.

In some ways, Hill’s transformation might be explained by her recent motherhood; the 23-year-old recently gave birth to a son, Zion (who is the subject of a tender ballad here, ‘To Zion’), and is expecting another child. (Even Hill’s motherhood is linked back to Bob Marley; the father of both children is reported to be Marley’s son Rohan.)

Many of the songs are about taking responsibility, raising families and surviving in ghettoes; even romantic songs, such as the dour ballad ‘I Used to Love Him’, often take former lovers to task for failing to be more mature. As a consequence, ‘Miseducation’ sometimes seems a little too serious, more well- meaning than fun.

Even the many guest stars — guitarist Carlos Santana, singers Mary J. Blige and D’Angelo and dancehall rapper Shelly Thunder — often are featured on downbeat songs, rather than on perkier material. Yet when the album takes hold, as on ‘Doo Wop’, Hill succeeds at both delivering a message and creating good soul music.

‘Doo Wop’ links the cheery vibe of 1960s soul with sly put-downs of modern rap culture, and ties it all together with Hill’s wailed chorus, “Girls, you better watch out/ Some guys, some guys are only about/ That thing”.

A video for the song makes the message of black sexism and machismo over the years more plain, showing two different Lauryn Hills — a soul singer dressed like a Motown star and a dreadlocked rapper — singing across a split screen to two different audiences: nattily dressed hipsters and fist-waving rap fans. On both sides of the split screen, however, a few surly men pay more attention to themselves than to the party.

Ultimately, ‘Miseducation’ is a well-meaning work but not always an accomplished one: a few songs sound similar, and — like many rap albums — the record’s momentum is slowed by skits which go nowhere. Still, Hill’s first solo album is a rare achievement amid a musical landscape devoted to clothes, cars and money: a serious but soulful look at the real world.