The Omnichord Real Book, the latest album from veteran bass player and composer Meshell Ndegeocello, follows no logic but its own, and conforms to no path but the one it clears for itself.
Ndegeocello has created an album that not only defies categories but defies the very nature of categorization. It is an electro-organic exploration of the analog made digital and vice versa, a recursive narrative that bends spiritual jazz into spiritual pop and back again like a loop of tape through the board at the Black Ark. The Omnichord Real Book takes the steadiness and openness of the titular electronic instrument and clandestine knowledge of the classic jazz hack compendium to create aural panoramas that serve as backdrops for intimate and often internal conflicts.
“Omnipuss” taps into the built-in groove of the Omnichord, a drum machine/autoharp chimera with a cult fandom, channeling the instrument’s history in global music undergrounds and DIY communities. “Clear Water’’ invites Deantoni Parks, Jeff Parker and Sanford Biggers in for a bit of group catharsis, a convocation of harmonists in the grand P-Funk style. “AMR” feels like an interstellar beacon from an alternate-universe S.O.S Band, and “Towers’’ could have come from the deep corners of Bandcamp where West Coast indie poppers are refashioning smooth sounds of the late 20th century into bleeding-edge tunes. Across the double LP, Ndegeocello creates space for fellow musicians to probe and push and pull, while she herself acts as emotional mooring, keeping the project from drifting too far into the unknown.
When Ndegeocello sings, “They’re calling me / Back to the stars” on “Virgo,” she creates a sonic palette that connects the hypnotic electronic futurism of William Onyeabor with the interstellar ensemble communication of Sun Ra’s Arkestra. Ndegeocello lets her songs wander into weird and wonderful places, less tethered to the formal considerations of jazz traditions and more invigorated by the idea that music concepts can be played like chords, arpeggiating cultural signifiers until something new is created. The Omnichord Real Book is a 72-minute journey into stereophonic bliss, where organ and percussion, bass and guitar dart around synths and, of course, Omnichord. Its ambitions are grand, its execution brave and its intentions bold. Ndegeocello has made a career of pushing boundaries and challenging perceptions, and her experience seems aptly suited for our contemporary moment and our reckoning with cultural systems still defined by a less connected time.
By the time The Omnichord Real Book makes it to the final side of the double LP, the one-two punch of beatbox gospel “Hole in the Bucket” and the cosmic reprise of “Virgo 3,” Ndegeocello has covered more musical and personal space than most artists will cross in a lifetime. It feels fitting that after three decades on the popular music frontiers, Ndegeocello’s vision is broader, more enveloping than ever. And her aesthetic eclecticism may have even outsmarted the algorithm, grouping Omnichord not with heritage artists of Ndegeocello’s vintage but with the vanguard of young funkateers like Yaya Bey and Yazmin Lacey, keeping soul cinematic in the new century. (Your recommended engine mileage may vary, algorithms being algorithms and all.)
The Omnichord Real Book comes from such an honest and explorative place that it demands intense, focused, attentive listening, and it rewards its listener with an intellectual and emotional experience of the highest order.
