Hip-Hop & Soul N°103 – Vintage 90s Music Videos

1 . Mantronix – Got To Have Your Love

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

Released in December 1989 as the lead single from their 1990 album “This Should Move Ya,” Mantronix’s “Got to Have Your Love” marks a departure from their earlier electro-hip-hop experiments.

This track leans more into a polished blend of R&B and house, with Wondress Hutchinson’s vocals gliding over swooning strings and tight percussion.

Kurtis Mantronik’s production craft is evident in every beat, creating a soundscape that feels equally at home on a club dance floor or a late-night radio playlist.

The song peaked at number 4 on the UK Singles Chart, revealing Mantronix’s surprising pivot to European audiences after teetering on the edge of US mainstream recognition.

Despite its intended positioning for American radio, the track seemed to find its true resonance across the Atlantic, charting in places like Ireland and Finland.

The accompanying video received airplay on MTV, showcasing the group’s understanding of visual appeal alongside their sonic efforts.

While the song saw international success, its enduring charm comes down to its signature hook—an earworm that refuses to fade from memory.

Its legacy stretched into the 2000s when Liberty X’s cover reached number 2 on the UK charts, a reminder of the track’s lasting cultural footprint.

Mantronix’s ability to maneuver through evolving music trends while keeping an edge highlights the savvy adaptability of late-1980s and early-1990s dance music.

The song isn’t just a hit or a fleeting moment of glory—it serves as a timestamp of an era where electronic grooves were beginning to shape pop universes in unexpected ways.

Featured on the 1990 album “This Should Move Ya”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Wikipedia

2 . Prince – Automatic

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

Prince’s “Automatic” is a sprawling 9-minute epic from his groundbreaking 1982 album *1999*, a project that solidified his boundary-pushing artistic vision long before anyone could pigeonhole him into a genre.

The track leans heavily on squelchy synths, hypnotic drum machines, and icy production — a template for the Minneapolis sound he practically trademarked during the ’80s.

Here, Prince steps into themes of surrender and emotional captivity, offering a lyrical landscape where love is less about roses and more about compulsive, robotic obedience.

If love is a battlefield, this is Prince shackled and refusing to break free, his falsetto slicing cleanly through the track.

Visually, “Automatic” followed suit with a music video that feels delightfully unhinged.

Shot during his *1999* era, it features bandmates Lisa Coleman and Jill Jones in what could generously be described as an S&M-inspired fever dream, drenched in surreal theatricality that MTV predictably deemed a bit too spicy.

Musically, it’s hard to deny the song’s undeniable sophistication.

The layered arrangement opts for minimal melody but a heavy rhythm that invites you into its trance-like groove before pummeling you with emotionally charged vocals.

It’s not “Purple Rain” material — less stadium anthem, more underground club odyssey — but it reeks of the same confidence Prince exudes across the entire album.

During live performances, like those seen on his *1999 Tour*, “Automatic” became a moment to witness just how far he would go to blur the lines between performer and provocateur.

As a track sitting deep in an already stacked album, it refuses to feel like filler, instead holding its own as a testament to his refusal to pander to mainstream pop sensibilities.

It’s ridiculous, overindulgent, slightly creepy, and utterly captivating — in short, it’s Prince in his element.

Featured on the 1982 album “1999”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site

3 . Arrested Development – Revolution

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

“Revolution” by Arrested Development lands at a crossroads of hip-hop activism and 1990s cinema, tying its energy directly to Spike Lee’s “Malcolm X” and its fiery themes of civil rights.

The track doesn’t merely stand on its own but acts as a megaphone for social change, echoing their Afrocentric ethos during a time when gangsta rap dominated mainstream attention.

With its tight production by Speech, the song balances urgency with groove, urging collective action without ever resorting to preachy platitudes.

The visuals—shot in Brooklyn under Lee’s direction—match the song’s pulse, filling the screen with over 500 participants in scenes that feel both organized and chaotic, much like societal upheaval itself.

While it charted impressively abroad—hitting top ten spots in New Zealand, the UK, and Australia—it barely made a dent in the U.S., scraping into the Billboard Hot 100 at #90.

The song’s Grammy nomination for Best Rap Performance by a Duo or Group in 1994 underscores its artistic heft, even if it didn’t achieve widespread commercial impact domestically.

Known for steering hip-hop toward consciousness rather than violence, Arrested Development’s broader contributions to the genre involve redefining its purpose, merging beats with philanthropy, and carrying the torch of their activism-driven messages globally.

“Revolution” remains less a pop culture phenomenon and more a historical artifact—an example of how music ties itself to movements, films, and the evolving narrative of African-American identity.

Featured on the 1992 album “Malcolm X – Soundtrack”.

Lyrics >> More by the same : Official Site

4 . Quincy Jones – I’ll Be Good To You (w/ Ray Charles & Chaka Khan)

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

“I’ll Be Good to You,” Quincy Jones’ reimagining from his 1989 album “Back on the Block,” pairs Ray Charles and Chaka Khan in a slick duet that oozes late ’80s New Jack Swing sheen.

The song originally debuted in funkier form in 1976, courtesy of The Brothers Johnson, and while that version had groove to spare, Jones’ update goes for polish over grit.

This rendition stakes its claim as a celebration of commitment, anchored by Charles’ soulful rasp and Khan’s effortless vocal agility—both balancing each other out like a conversation between old friends who still have a little fire to reignite.

The track climbed straight to the top of the Billboard R&B chart, a fitting achievement given it marked Ray Charles’ first R&B number-one in 24 years.

The production leans heavily on studio wizardry, courtesy of luminaries like David Paich and Greg Phillinganes, layering thick synth textures and punchy beats over the foundations of the original.

The accompanying music video, complete with late-night TV gloss, extends the song’s mood into a visual format—part nostalgic charm, part unabashed star power.

Chaka’s playful dynamism contrasts Charles’ grounded presence, while Jones, ever the godfather-like figure, orchestrates it all from the shadows.

Does it evoke the raw immediacy of the Johnson brothers’ funk? No, but that’s not the aim here.

This version lives in its own world—a place where R&B meets pop aspirations and succeeds on its own terms.

Featured on the 1989 album “Back on the Block”.

Lyrics >> More by the same : Official Site

5 . Seal – Crazy

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

“Crazy,” Seal’s breakout hit from 1990, lands somewhere in the ether between electronic experimentation and ’90s pop smoothness, with just enough funk to keep things unpredictable.

Co-written with Guy Sigsworth and expertly molded by Trevor Horn, the track seems like an artifact of its time while managing to stay oddly relevant, pulling on themes of global upheaval sparked by events like the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Tiananmen Square protests.

The pacing feels anticipatory, the instrumentation layered but not heavy-handed, with Seal’s gravelly and impassioned vocals riding above the production like a sermon wrapped in a nightclub floor-filler.

Its climb to No. 2 on UK charts and No. 7 on the Billboard Hot 100 is less surprising than its later, quieter resurgence on the Adult Top 40 in 2021/2022, as though nostalgia alone could breathe life into a song that refuses to stay in the past.

The lyrics, dreamy and slightly cryptic, feel purposefully universal—less about specific truths, more an invitation to feel the moment through the undulating rhythm and Seal’s conviction.

Trevor Horn’s characteristic polish gives “Crazy” a tight thematic grip, yet it never feels sterile, especially paired with a music video that amplifies the minimalist, art-school vibe: Seal, clad in white, framed by swirling visual distortions, as if placed inside his own mind for us to dissect.

The track’s emotional elasticity has made it prone to reinterpretation, most prominently by Alanis Morissette in 2005, whose cover retains the original’s looming urgency while scratching the glossy sheen in favor of a more raw production ethos.

“Crazy’s” staying power lies in its contradictions—it’s polished yet emotional, pinned to its time but adaptable, and a staple of Seal’s career despite the artist never trying to outdo it.

It’s a curious time capsule that, even now, invites replay not because it’s aged poorly but because it’s aged interestingly, lingering as both a cultural timestamp and a peculiar pop anomaly.

Featured on the 1991 album “Seal”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site

6 . The Firm – Firm Biz

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

Released in 1997 as the lead single from *The Album*, The Firm’s “Firm Biz” represents a curious blend of hip-hop bravado and RnB-laced nostalgia.

Built around a prominent sample of Teena Marie’s 1981 classic “Square Biz,” the track pairs a funk-infused beat with mafioso rap tropes—a mix that feels both stylish and calculated.

The song brings together Nas, AZ, Foxy Brown, and Dawn Robinson (formerly of En Vogue), aiming to project an aura of wealth and sophistication against the glimmering backdrop of late ’90s hip-hop culture.

While the group’s attempt at creating a supergroup sparked critical skepticism, accusing them of being more a marketing ploy than a cohesive collective, the single managed to capture attention, especially in the UK, where it peaked at #18 on the singles chart.

The accompanying video, directed by Hype Williams, leaned heavily into the excesses of the era, featuring an evocative bank robbery scene that nodded to the group’s mafia-themed aspirations.

Interestingly, while the track saw limited success on U.S. charts, briefly flirting with the Billboard R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay rankings, its UK reception suggests a broader appeal outside The Firm’s home turf.

The production by L.E.S. ties the song together, delivering a polished, radio-friendly sound that occasionally veers into predictability yet works well with the charismatic performances, particularly Nas and AZ’s verses.

Dawn Robinson’s melodic input adds a glossy RnB hook, further softening the edges of an otherwise lyrically gritty song—an indication of the label’s attempt to court mainstream listeners without fully committing to either street credibility or pop accessibility.

A remix featuring Mary J. Blige and Half-A-Mill introduced additional layers, but it did little to change the general perception of the track as a respectable, if uninspired, piece of a larger experiment that would fail to meet its lofty expectations.

Critically speaking, “Firm Biz” stands as an artifact of its time—a gamble at merging gangster aesthetics with crossover appeal, ambitious in its concept but falling short of redefining the genre it aimed to dominate.

Featured on the 1997 album “The Album”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Wikipedia

7 . Destiny’s Child – Get On The Bus (w/ Timbaland)

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

“Get On The Bus” by Destiny’s Child operates as a vivid artifact of late-’90s R&B, blending Timbaland’s futuristic syncopation with the group’s pristine harmonies.

The track lands on the “Why Do Fools Fall in Love” soundtrack and creeps as a bonus addition on international editions of Destiny’s Child’s debut album, embodying the era where high-profile producer collaborations were currency in pop music.

Stamped with Timbaland’s jittery beats and crisp vocal layering, the production encapsulates the edgy, mechanical precision that defined his rise.

Its thematic narrative deals with severing a toxic relationship—no wailing heartbreak here, just a stoic dismissal of drama.

Chart success sits modestly at #15 on the UK Singles Chart, sidestepping the Billboard Hot 100, a curious detail considering the group’s surging momentum stateside.

The accompanying music video, a slick minimalist experiment directed by Earle Sebastian, slots neatly into the visual language of R&B’s ongoing flirtation with futurism at the time.

While not a seismic chart dominator, the track signals Destiny’s Child’s adeptness at navigating an increasingly competitive R&B landscape, even as it foreshadows Timbaland’s impending genre-defining reign.

Featured on the 1998 album “Why Do Fools Fall in Love – Soundtrack”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Instagram

8 . Patti LaBelle – On My Own (w/ Michael McDonald)

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

Released in 1986, “On My Own,” performed by Patti LaBelle featuring Michael McDonald, is a polished breakup anthem that thrives on its raw emotional gravity and melodic sophistication.

Written by Burt Bacharach and Carole Bayer Sager, the track wasn’t originally envisioned as a duet, but LaBelle’s decision to bring McDonald into the fold turned this into a lightning-in-a-bottle collaboration that practically drips with ache and mutual regret.

Thematically, it’s all about trying to piece yourself back together after love’s implosion—choosing strength over collapse, even when every lyric hangs heavy with the weight of loneliness.

Despite their voices never having shared the same studio air, the seamless interplay between LaBelle’s soaring grandeur and McDonald’s signature smoky rasp feels like a poignant push-and-pull of two people trying and failing to reconnect.

Its ’80s production sensibilities—grand piano flourishes and syrupy backing synths—could’ve veered into cheesy territory but instead align perfectly with the song’s melodramatic, yet entirely relatable, message.

Chart-wise, it’s a juggernaut; it sat steadfast at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 for three weeks and lingered on other charts like an emotional bruise that just wouldn’t fade.

Visually, the accompanying split-screen music video couples its wistful lyrics with imagery that quite literally separates its stars, hammering home the distance—both geographic and emotional—that defines this song’s narrative.

LaBelle, already a powerhouse, cemented this as her commercial peak, while McDonald carved another notch in his already groove-heavy belt of collaborations.

If you’re in the market for heartbreak set to the sound of two titans belting their lungs out, “On My Own” is nothing short of a dolorous masterpiece—its success proof that separation, artistic or otherwise, can sometimes bring people closer to greatness.

Featured on the 1986 album “Winner in You”.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site

9 . Gravediggaz – The Night The Earth Cried

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

Gravediggaz’s “The Night The Earth Cried” strikes a somber, cinematic tone within the group’s repertoire, emerging as a standout track from their 1997 album “The Pick, the Sickle and the Shovel.”

Clocking in as a marriage of socially conscious lyricism and their trademark horrorcore aesthetic, the song captures a tension between introspection and ominous undertones, a hallmark of their evolving sound in the late ’90s.

Produced primarily by Prince Paul, operating under his Undertaker alias, the track demonstrates a shift away from the abrasive, satirical edge of their debut, settling instead into a reflective mood that still retains the ominous gravitas integral to their material.

Lyrically, the song evokes imagery of environmental decay and human greed, tackling themes of exploitation through poignant metaphors and measured urgency.

The production underscores these themes with brooding, atmospheric layers—less chaotic but dense with texture, complementing the vocal delivery with restraint rather than aggression.

While the album itself faced the challenge of following a groundbreaking debut, it distinguishes itself by prioritizing depth over shock value.

Gravediggaz, led by core members RZA, Frukwan, and Poetic, exhibit a group dynamic that feels synchronized but never uniform, with each voice lending a unique perspective to the track’s weighty subject matter.

The accompanying video amplifies the song’s mood through stark, high-definition visuals, further emphasizing the gravity of its narrative themes without overplaying theatrics.

“The Pick, the Sickle and the Shovel” may not have reached the chart-topping heights of its predecessor, but its commitment to substance over spectacle places it firmly within the canon of thoughtful, horror-infused hip-hop.

If “The Night The Earth Cried” signals anything, it’s a willingness to shed genre tropes while maintaining the group’s intrinsic sense of darkness, purpose, and narrative weight.

Featured on the 1997 album “The Pick the Sickle and the Shovel”.

Lyrics >> More by the same : Wikipedia

11 . Beyoncé – Listen

Few songs in Beyoncé’s discography land with the emotional resonance and calculated force of “Listen,” a track that wears its purpose on its sleeve: empowerment wrapped in the soaring theatrics of an R&B ballad.

Released in 2006 as a centerpiece of the *Dreamgirls* soundtrack, the song walks a tightrope between its cinematic role as Deena Jones’s liberation anthem and Beyoncé’s own declaration of artistic individuality.

Written by a committee—Beyoncé, Henry Krieger, Scott Cutler, and Anne Preven—it carries the polish of a team effort but throbs with vocal performances too personal to be generic.

Musically, it lays bare its intentions early: a slow build of strings and piano that climb toward a tidal wave of vocal bravado, delivering just the kind of crescendo expected in a movie featuring glittering costumes and backstage rivalries.

Beyoncé’s vocal execution is, predictably, flawless—technically immaculate but emotionally volcanic, as if she’s trying to shatter glass ceilings along with eardrums.

Critics lauded her voice, but those sharp enough to look past the operatic highs spotted the sentimentality lurking in its construction, as if disappointment wasn’t allowed within earshot.

But that’s the role of “Listen”: it isn’t here to deliver subtlety or nuanced despair; it is performative in the grandest sense, built for spotlights, statues, and standing ovations.

The accompanying music videos double down on this theatricality, whether through Diane Martel’s imagery marrying Beyoncé’s performance to *Dreamgirls* footage or Matthew Rolston’s glossy, high-fashion framing—both signaling triumph over adversity while daring the viewer to look away.

The lyrics are elemental, built on the scaffolding of self-reclamation: ‘I’m more than what you made of me,’ she belts, a declaration that lands somewhere between soap opera and mantra.

Unsurprisingly, awards panels were drawn to its gravitas, though *Dreamgirls* departed the season with fewer accolades than its marketing team hoped, its grandstanding often too neatly packaged for messy human realities.

Still, “Listen” remains a quintessential “event” song—impressive, if slightly engineered, proof that Beyoncé as a phenomenon doesn’t just whisper or murmur; she roars.

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

Featured on the 2006 album “Dreamgirls: Music from the Motion Picture “.

Lyrics >> Review >> More by the same : Official Site

12 . Shalamar – Tossing Turning and Swinging

Shalamar’s “Tossing, Turning and Swinging,” nestled within their 1978 album “Disco Gardens,” represents the glittery exuberance of disco’s golden era.

Guided by Leon Sylvers III’s production touch and released under the iconic SOLAR Records, this track plays as a snapshot of late ’70s dance floors, pulsating with energy but without aiming for monumental chart ambitions.

The song sits confidently between the label’s commitment to meticulously crafted dance tracks and the group’s burgeoning reputation as pioneers of synchronized, rhythm-driven choreography—a hint of the body-popping prowess that would later define them.

From a production lens, the song harnesses the tactile brilliance of Sylvers’ basslines, rhythmic grooves, and shimmering arrangements, delivering polished predictability rather than risks.

While “Take That to the Bank” became the album’s star pupil, this track manages to hold its own by painting a bustling, nocturnal mise-en-scène of packed clubs and mirrored ceilings, even without a standout video clip to amplify its visual presence.

Perhaps less boundary-pushing than memorable in execution, “Tossing, Turning and Swinging” reflects a moment when the genre’s aesthetic was its commentary; the beat mattered more than innovation, the ambiance trumped introspection.

Embedded within their early discography, this is not a radical entry but one that emphasizes the collective artistry of disco as a community-driven movement, framed through SOLAR’s headquarters as a hub of smooth, dancefloor-ready craftsmanship.

Martine Girault’s “Revival” feels like stepping into a smoky, dimly lit lounge where acid jazz meets the crackling warmth of 90s electronic innovation.

The track samples Donny Hathaway’s “Little Ghetto Boy” with the precision of someone carefully slicing into musical nostalgia and serving up something undeniably fresh for its time.

It doesn’t scream for attention but thrives on its understated arrangement—silky, bass-heavy, and unapologetically smooth.

Released in the early 90s, its quiet confidence landed it at #1 on the US Jazz Chart and in the top 10 on the UK Singles Chart, though it’s debatable whether it’s remembered for the charts or the understated grace with which it fuses groove and subtlety.

Remixes flooded in, with Blacksmith’s version injecting a sharp edge to the already compelling track.

While much of “Revival” represents the acid jazz movement’s knack for sultry minimalism, its flexibility across formats—whether the Japanese LP Mix or the Soulpersona Rare Groove Remix—cements its fluid adaptability.

Even now, it lingers in corners of YouTube and compilation playlists, a low-key anthem of its genre that politely refuses to die.

It’s a track immune to bombast, eschewing grandeur in favor of doing what it does best—holding a steady, mesmerizing pulse that lets its listeners breathe and sway.

Featured on the 1978 album “Disco Gardens”.

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