Meshell Ndegeocello: Strive. Adapt. Maintain.

Twenty Minutes With Meshell

Meshell Ndegeocello: Strive. Adapt. Maintain.

Photos by Charlie Gross

Twenty Minutes With Meshell

Like many “pandemic albums,” Meshell Ndegeocello’s The Omnichord Real Book reflects the somber mood of these complex times, as well as the recent loss of both her parents. But don’t mistake those thoughtful lyrics, rich reverb settings, and expansive textures for maudlin introspection. On the album’s 18 songs, half of them under four minutes long, The Omnichord Real Book conveys positivity and a sense of wonder without being hokey. There’s an undercurrent of generosity and gratitude, deep Afrobeat grooves, head-nodding beats, fresh production, and an all-star cast that shines bright.

“Playing alone and living in my computer for a whole year was great,” says the D.C. native, a New Yorker since the ’90s. “It was a very contemplative period, and it allowed me time to hear my own thoughts. But I really enjoy making music with other people.” Besides featuring core members of her band (Abe Rounds, Chris Bruce, and Jebin Bruni), Meshell’s 12th album gets a boost from a long list of multi-hyphenates: Hanna Benn, Sanford Biggers, Joel Ross, Cory Henry, Thandiswa Mazwai, Julius Rodriguez, Brandee Younger, Ambrose Akinmusire, vocal trio the Hawtplates, and producer Josh Johnson, as well as longtime Meshell collaborators Deantoni Parks, Mark Guiliana, Jason Moran, Jeff Parker, and Joan As Police Woman.

Ever since she made her debut with Plantation Lullabies 30 years ago, Meshell has surrounded herself with red-hot ensembles that included standouts like drummer Gene Lake and keyboardist Federico Gonzalez Peña. Asked how she feels about those early days, Meshell stays firmly in the present. “I’m very much ‘in the now’ — I try to see how I can go forward and what I can do differently. I don’t play or sing the same way, and I don’t need to be the leader all the time or the focus of self-expression.” What other bass star would stick to keyboard low end while making space for Bruce, Kaveh Rastegar, and Burniss Travis? 

It’s no surprise, then, that Meshell sees herself as a conduit for the assembled talent. “I really hope people check out the guests on this album. Jeff Parker’s playing is a spiritual experience; he’s a walking Real Book of song, melody, and improvisation. Go listen to the Hawtplates’ music. If you have a chance to see Ambrose Akinmusire or Joel Ross, do it. I’m simply a ticket, and you can choose whether you want to get on the ride or not. Let’s see where it takes you.”

I found this old interview where your dad said, “Listen to my album Coming From the Old School. Then you’ll see where Meshell gets her thing.” 

[Laughs.] Yeah, I’m a product of my father [saxophonist Jacques Johnson Sr.], my brother [guitarist Jacques Johnson Jr.], go-go, Federico, Gene — those early influences, and D.C. as a whole. D.C./Maryland/Virginia was such an amazing place to grow up because everyone came through. I saw Prince, the landing of the Mothership, Bobby McFerrin, Al Jarreau, and Frankie Beverly and Maze, but I also saw Bad Brains and Van Halen. My dad played in the pit band for [Gilligan’s Island actor] Bob Denver. It’s all my lineage and in my bloodline. 

When I think of “standards,” I think about how you grew up around musicians who held themselves and others to high standards. 

You had to be good because people didn’t care who you were — they were just out enjoying a meal, having a good experience, and they wanted to hear something good. A cover band could blow your mind. We were close to Howard and other universities, and people were always experimenting. I’m a product of that environment.

I know you were in go-go bands like Rare Essence, but did you take other jobs besides being a musician?

I had a child at 19, and I knew I’d be on my own, with the help of my parents, so I tried other jobs. I worked at the Pentagon in food service.

Get out of here!

I worked as a janitor. I almost joined the Army, too. But I realized that it would probably kill my spirit — I’d be a different person. If I was in the military and given a weapon, I’d be just as good at that sort of life. Anything I put my mind to, I would have been good at. I’m glad I decided that I could make it as a musician [laughs]. 

I’ve heard [the late cultural critic/musician] Greg Tate talk about that era of music in D.C. Just astounding.

I call Greg my “father/mother/God.” He made me feel good about myself and always told me I could…him and Beverly Jenkins and Bill Toles at the Black Rock Coalition. D.C. was a little rougher — just a different vibe — and moving to New York was about finding purpose, an Afrocentric understanding and sense of self, and trying to figure out how I could make my imagination support my life.

The Team Player

You’re known for sharing space with other bass players. On this album you feature Kaveh Rastegar, Burniss Travis, and Chris Bruce, plus you’re playing key bass.

All those people play multiple instruments, too. Abe Rounds is the drummer, but he’s one of the baddest bass players in the world, and his dad, Victor Rounds, is probably one of the greatest bass players I’ve ever heard. Pocket for pocket, he’s incredible. His son, who he named after Abe Laboriel, is a killer bass player and drummer. He plays everything. I think that’s the new musician: everybody has auxiliary skills. Josh Johnson, who produced the record, is an incredible sax player, but he’s also the musical director for Leon Bridges. This is a whole album of people who are like, “This is not a lifestyle.” You know what I’m saying?

I do.

I‘m so happy people like Plantation Lullabies, my first effort, but now I’m much more aware of the energy of music. I think we’re all just more conscious about the energetic frequency of the music, as well.

You seem to have such a sixth sense about collaborators. Are there times when it doesn’t work out?

I just had an incident where it didn’t work out. Actually, it’s not that it didn’t work out — it’s that they may not have been right for this music. Because when I play other things with them, it’s incredible. But this gig was not for them.

Something wasn’t sounding like I thought it would, so I had to shift, redirect, adapt, and keep it moving. People came to see you play — they don’t want to see you mad. 

It’s all about how you’ve got to strive, adapt, and maintain.
The bass player controls the whole vibe!

I heard you mention that you’ve mellowed over time.

I used to be an asshole. Now I’m like, it’s an honor to be onstage. As [Sun Ra saxophonist/bandleader] Marshall Allen says, “I play music for my well-being so that if I feel good, I have something to give you.” I’m starting to appreciate that.

I saw a video of a live show where you said, “Wake up, return, balance, align.” Such a great reminder.

Yeah. I did a track with Mark Giuliana called “Strive.” It’s all about how you’ve got to strive, adapt, and maintain. The bass player controls the whole vibe!

Absolutely, even though sometimes we go through the motions to get the job done.

Sometimes you got to, brother, and that’s just how it is. My dad taught me that every gig ain’t for you to love. I have people to take care of, and it’s not always about my self-expression. This is a livelihood. 

Are you worried about AI taking gigs from musicians?

I don’t really fear AI music. There’s something in the human being that seeks out the ephemeral, something that cannot be replicated or used like simulacra. We’re all going to need each other, and that’s why we’ve got to realize that what we have has great value. Don’t let them fool you!

The Score

I love what you brought to Queen Sugar. Did you enjoy scoring that show?

I have great love for film and TV when there’s a good story, and Queen Sugar was the perfect example. I enjoyed creating a sound that fit that family, and it was an amazing thing to be part of. It’s not fun all the time, of course — it’s work. It’s a schedule. It’s not about your emotions, and you’re there to aid 20 to 25 other people in their adventure.

Do you work alone or with a team?

Scoring allows the core band — me, Chris Bruce, Jebin Bruni, and Abe — to work as a team. During covid, we learned how we could all work separately yet together, because two people were in L.A. and two people were in New York. We all have different strengths, yet they come together well. It’s amazing, because one of the other jobs I had was working on a couple of Spike Lee films as a production assistant and runner.

I had no idea! It’s great that y’all work as a team.

Some people can score all alone, you know, but even they have a team. TV and film are all about the collective; it’s not an individual medium whatsoever. That’s why I’m hoping the writers get the respect they deserve [in the 2023 writers strike]. You have to have many voices, you have to shape-shift, and that only happens when you have a group of people you trust and [with whom] you can dialogue.

Revered Reverend

I always notice when you bring out your old Jazz Bass. What year is it?

The neck is a ’63 and the body is a ’62. 

Nice. I saw a picture of you playing a Precision, too.

I have a P-Bass from the ’70s that has flatwounds, and I’ve been playing a rosewood-neck fretless P-Bass. I love my new Viv Wilcock [Mullarkey] bass. My go-to is the Reverend J [Justice] bass, which is like a good friend. I’m one of those people who could never just play one bass, because people call me for different things.

Are you still using flatwounds?

Deep Talkin’ La Bellas are my string of choice. 

Your Modulus VJ Jazz Bass was so consistent and snappy.

That’s what I didn’t like about it — when I played other basses, the VJ seemed to lack warmth. The [Reverend Fellowship Meshell Ndegeocello signature bass and Reverend J] are my go-to’s. I even have a semi-hollowbody short-scale one that I love. It has a bright snap that’s almost like a Music Man. Kyle Miles, who plays with me and Nick Hakim, has been playing the 5-string version, and it’s just so warm and round. I play the Vic Wilcox against that — we have this dubby vibe, so we contrast and hold each other when we play live.

You’ve worked with so many bass players — from David Dyson, Jonathan Maron, and Michael “Funky Ned” to Yossi Fine and all the badasses on this album. 

It’s an honor to play with people who have facility and range beyond my capabilities. I just hope I write good bass lines for them! I really love Burniss Travis. He’s the truth, man! Him and Taurus Mateen; they’re the ones. 

I’ve always thought of you as a soulful minimalist. What do you think of the current explosion of bass chops?

Chops has its place — it just depends on who comes to your show and who you want to attract. It’s what’s happening now, and I’m sure it will cycle back and then cycle back around. There’s room for everybody. 

One last question about two sentences that appear on Omnichord: “Everything is under control,” and “don’t be fooled by the myth of control.”

That’s the contradiction, right? The first one is about having great faith, but don’t be fooled by thinking you’re the one doing it. Sometimes you’ve got to get out your own way. –BM

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E. E. Bradman   By: E. E. Bradman

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