This week In Soul Artists 06/52

1 . Whitney Houston . You Give Good Love

“You Give Good Love,” the inaugural single from Whitney Houston’s 1985 self-titled debut album, is a careful introduction to an artist poised for seismic impact in the industry.

Written by LaForrest “La La” Cope and produced by Kashif, the track represents a meticulous calculation from Clive Davis, who intended it to secure Houston’s foothold in the black music market before exploring crossover terrains. While strategically crafted, the song’s production feels modest by design—less a grand stage than a contained space for Houston’s voice to stretch, albeit cautiously.

Charting at number 3 on the US Billboard Hot 100 and clinching the top spot on the Billboard Hot Black Singles chart, its performance reflects a duality: a song tuned for niches, yet capable of broader resonance. The debut’s appearance on “The Merv Griffin Show” amplified its reception, marking Houston’s gradual introduction to mainstream audiences.

While the intent was deliberate, the track itself feels slightly constrained. Kashif’s production leans toward polished safety, ensuring the spotlight remains solely on Houston and her ability to effortlessly extract intimacy from Cope’s lyrics. Yet, there’s an underlying sense that it stops just short of unleashing her full potential, holding back in anticipation of what’s to follow.

Roberta Flack’s early rejection of the song inadvertently became a pivotal moment in pop history. Houston makes it undeniably hers, steering the material with precision and warmth. Still, the lasting impression isn’t the track but the voice—one that would soon transcend the tactics of its calculated introduction.

Lifted from : We remember Whitney Houston. ‘Without Whitney’

2 . Erykah Badu . Rimshot

Erykah Badu begins “Baduizm” with “Rimshot (Intro),” a track that feels more like she’s sketching a vibe than crafting a formal composition.

Produced by Madukwu Chinwah, the song stitches together jazz, gospel, and hip-hop textures, gliding over a swung 16th hip-hop rhythm that borrows slyly from Miles Davis’ “So What.”

Such a nod isn’t a surprise on this album, where lineage is everything and traditions are bent just enough to slip through neo-soul’s door without breaking older frames.

As an opening, it doesn’t demand too much—there’s no urgent hook, no powerhouse display of vocal acrobatics, just Badu settling into her own understated pocket, signaling that the rules here will be hers to set.

On the other end of “Baduizm,” “Rimshot (Outro)” bookends this journey but brings little that feels essential beyond its role as a thematic echo.

It’s less a climax and more a cooling exhale, a reminder of where the record started before its author drifted into labyrinths of “Appletree” and “Otherside of the Game.”

“Baduizm” isn’t just an album; it’s a lodestar of neo-soul, a genre still grasping for an identity in 1997.

When it topped the Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart and climbed to number two on the Billboard 200, it wasn’t just a victory for Badu; it felt like a manifesto for blending the old and the new.

The trio of gospel, R&B, and hip-hop that “Rimshot” leans on is emblematic of this project’s bones: resourceful and reverent without lapsing into mere homage.

Yet, for all its ambiance, “Rimshot” operates more as a mood than a milestone.

Its contribution is textural, where it whispers rather than insists, “This is where we begin, and this is where we end.”

Lifted from : Erykah Badu releases her debut album . ‘Baduizm’ featuring ‘On . On’, ‘Next Lifetime’, ‘Otherside of the Game’ and ‘Appletree’ (1997)

3 . Diana Ross . Love Hangover

Released as a single on March 16, 1976, from Diana Ross’s eponymous second album, “Love Hangover” is less about narrative and more about mood—a sonic tease that seduces before it transforms. Penned by Marilyn McLeod and Pamela Sawyer, and guided by Hal Davis’s production, the track unfurls like a late-night confession bathed in the glow of a strobe light, quite literally—the studio ambiance Ross stepped into to simulate disco’s kinetic energy.

The structure is as dualistic as its title suggests. Opening with a sultry, languorous intro, Ross alternates between humming, laughing, and what can only be described as flirting with the microphone—a nod to Billie Holiday’s influence that feels simultaneously reverential and mischievous. Suddenly, the groove shifts, and Henry E. Davis’s shapely bassline propels the song into unabashed disco euphoria. It’s both a hangover and a high, a simulation of indulgence mirrored in its form.

Chart history crowns its cultural moment: a Billboard trifecta by May 29, 1976—Hot 100, Hot-Selling Soul Singles, and Record World disco charts. It’s Ross’s fourth number-one, a record-breaking feat for any female vocalist at the time, but these accolades say little about its deceptive complexity. What makes the song tick isn’t merely its catchiness but the deliberate manipulation of tempo and tone, capturing disco’s union of hedonism and melancholy.

While slick in execution, the track does risk alienation. The abrupt transition from sultry ballad to pulsating dance track might feel disjointed to listeners seeking a more linear journey. Still, this unpredictability is arguably its boldest move, rooting the song in both nightclubs and restless solitude.

Ross’s live performance on *The Muppet Show* in 1980 underscores its pop-icon ubiquity, while inclusion in the 1977 film *Looking for Mr. Goodbar* ties it to a darker cultural narrative of self-discovery and risk in an increasingly hedonistic era.

The song’s longevity is matched by its malleability. From Frankie Knuckles’s 1993 remix to Eric Kupper’s 2020 revision that topped Billboard’s Dance Club Songs chart, “Love Hangover” proves endlessly adaptable. Whether as part of Ross’s *Supertonic* collection or covered by artists as varied as the 5th Dimension and Tina Arena, its shape-shifting quality continues to haunt—and energize—the dance floor. It lingers, as the best hangovers do. B+

Lifted from : Motown publish ‘Diana Ross’ her second and eponymous album featuring ‘Love Hangover’ (1976)

4 . Brandy . Sittin’ Up In My Room

“Sittin’ Up In My Room,” written and produced by Babyface for the “Waiting to Exhale” soundtrack, is a snapshot of mid-’90s R&B sophistication, blending introspection with hooks that are undeniably slick.

Opening with a bass riff reminiscent of Larry Graham’s iconic work on “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin),” the song carries a strut of funk-laden melancholy. Brandy’s vocal delivery, both controlled and emotive, sits at the intersection of youthful longing and quiet determination, as she unpacks a narrative of love-induced paralysis. It’s a performance perfectly tailored for a soundtrack tied to the emotional weight of “Waiting to Exhale,” itself a film defined by complex, nuanced depictions of romance and resilience.

The track’s success on the charts—peaking at number two on both the Billboard Hot 100 and the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Singles chart—cements its mainstream accessibility without compromising its stylistic identity. Its modest placement at number 30 on the UK Singles Chart hints at its more localized appeal, though the song’s thematic pull and polished production give it global resonance.

Hype Williams’ music video, featuring Donald Faison, leans toward simplicity—an aesthetic choice that contrasts with the visual bravado often associated with his work. Still, its understated charm complements the song’s contemplative vibe while earning accolades like Best Song from a Movie at the 1996 MTV Awards.

The 1996 remix, featuring LL Cool J and Patrice Rushen’s “Haven’t You Heard,” recontextualizes the original with a more rhythm-driven flair, though it arguably shifts the focus away from Brandy’s reflective delivery. Platinum certification in the U.S. and a gold nod in New Zealand testify to the track’s staying power, even as it lacks the sheer ubiquity of some contemporaneous hits.

Performed on stages as varied as the “Late Show with David Letterman” and the Grammy Awards, where it garnered a nomination, the song adapts well to live settings, showcased again during Brandy’s “Never Say Never World Tour” and her 2016 “Slayana World Tour.” In retrospect, “Sittin’ Up In My Room” doesn’t revolutionize its genre but instead exemplifies its strengths, tethering timeless themes of emotional vulnerability to a groove that still invites swaying decades later.

Lifted from : Happy Birthday Brandy

5 . Roberta Flack . Here’s To Love (w/ Sadao Watanabe)

From the 1984 album “Rendezvous,” “Here’s to Love” pairs the velvety vocals of Roberta Flack with the smooth saxophone of Sadao Watanabe, a meeting of musical minds that seems both inevitable and almost too polished.

Written by Ralph MacDonald and William Salter, the track leans heavily on layered instrumentation, showcasing luminaries like Steve Gadd on drums and Eric Gale on guitar. The arrangement is glossy, almost clinical, relying on an elegantly formulaic use of major chords—F Major, B♭ Major, and C Major—draped over Richard Tee’s keyboards and Rob Mounsey’s synthesizers. It’s a sound engineered for sophistication, though it may lack the edge one might hope for in a collaboration of this caliber.

The synergy between Watanabe and Flack is undeniable, but it risks feeling more refined than resonant. Watanabe’s saxophone glides through the melody with precision, yet it occasionally veers into a space that borders on muzak. Flack’s vocals, as always, are masterfully executed, but here they seem tethered to an arrangement that prizes smoothness over emotional complexity.

The song fits comfortably within the framework of Flack’s broader discography, rubbing shoulders with chart-toppers like “Killing Me Softly” and “Feel Like Makin’ Love,” though it doesn’t carry the same weight. Its chart performance remains undocumented, and perhaps fittingly so—it feels more like an album cut than a breakout single.

Celebrated in videos honoring Flack’s legacy as a ‘Sophisticated Lady,’ “Here’s to Love” captures her elegance but not necessarily her depth. It’s a toast worth sipping, even if it doesn’t linger on the palate.

Lifted from : Happy Birthday Roberta Flack. ‘Sophisticated Lady’

6 . Ray Charles . I Can’t Stop Loving You

“I Can’t Stop Loving You” from Ray Charles’ 1962 album “Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music” is less a cover and more a reclamation, pulling Don Gibson’s 1957 country original into a realm of orchestral grandeur and soul-infused melancholy.

Produced by Sid Feller and recorded on February 15, 1962, at United Western Recorders in Hollywood, California, Charles transforms the song into a sweeping, communal lament. His wistful delivery, punctuated by the spoken directive “Sing the song, children” to The Randy Van Horne Singers, turns the track into a shared experience, resisting any pretense of solitude in heartbreak.

Clinching the #1 spot on both U.S. and U.K. singles charts, remaining there for five weeks in the U.S. and two in the U.K., the song effortlessly straddled genres, also dominating the R&B and adult contemporary charts. Its ubiquity in 1962, underscored by Billboard ranking it the year’s #2 song, speaks to its broad appeal, though some argue its lush arrangement veers a touch into overstatement.

The historical significance deepens with its distinction as the first chart-topper on Sweden’s Kvällstoppen sales chart. Yet, such accolades don’t mask the tension: some might find Rolling Stone’s ranking at #164 on the “500 Greatest Songs of All Time” and CMT’s #49 placement on the “100 Greatest Songs in Country Music” bittersweet—impressive, though perhaps not reflective of its transformative impact.

Ray Charles’ Grammy win for Best Rhythm & Blues Recording at the 5th Annual Grammy Awards immortalizes the song’s resonance, although purists may question if the genre crossover diluted or enriched its essence. It’s a testament less to sorrow than to how music blurs cultural boundaries, though not without leaving some seams visible.

Lifted from : Ray Charles begins the recording of ‘Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music’ featuring ‘I Can’t Stop Loving You’ and ‘You Don’t Know Me’ (1962)

7 . Lou Rawls . God Bless The Child

Lou Rawls’ rendition of “God Bless the Child,” tucked into his 1962 debut album “Stormy Monday” (or “I’d Rather Drink Muddy Water,” depending on your preference), feels less like a commanding declaration and more like a measured dialogue with its blues and jazz roots.

Recorded in February of that year alongside the Les McCann Trio, the track carries a certain intimacy, yet it doesn’t entirely escape the weight of its lineage. Written by Arthur Herzog and Billie Holiday, the song’s soulful backbone is undeniable, but in Rawls’ hands, it seems to hover just shy of innovation, as though the rich baritone voice he’s known for is playing it polite rather than daring.

Nick Venet’s production, while crisp and unobtrusive, doesn’t inject much urgency into the performance; it lets the track breathe, perhaps too generously. The Les McCann Trio provides a steady and competent backdrop, their instrumentation tightly executed but largely pragmatic—more support than conversation with Rawls, which leaves some emotional depth untapped.

At 4:30, the song situates itself as a measured excursion into familiar territory rather than a bold reimagining of a classic. It reflects an artist finding his footing in a career that would eventually yield 61 albums and over 40 million records sold, yet here the potential feels hesitant. Where “God Bless the Child” has often been treated as a bold anthem, Rawls leans into its quieter inclinations, opting for restraint over revolution.

Lifted from : Lou Rawls records his debut album . ‘Stormy Monday’ a.k.a. ‘I’d Rather Drink Muddy Water’ with the Les McCann trio (1962)

8 . Dionne Warwick & Chuck Jackson . If I Let Myself Go

“If I Let Myself Go” pairs two titans of soul, Dionne Warwick and Chuck Jackson, in a duet both unexpected and skillfully realized.

Recorded in 1998 under the meticulous arrangement of Charles Wallert for Wave Entertainment, the track embraces a sense of wistful contemplation that, while familiar, feels refreshingly lived-in when voiced by these seasoned artists.

Charting at number 19 on the Gavin Adult Contemporary Charts, the song proved its resonance without necessarily reinventing the wheel.

The collaboration itself carries a quiet significance. Warwick, whose career spans decades of solo precision, seldom indulged in duets during her era with Scepter Records, making this rarity all the more intriguing.

For Jackson, the track occupies the latter chapter of a career rooted in his Wand Records successes from the 1960s, highlighted by enduring classics like “Any Day Now” and “I Don’t Want to Cry.”

Vocally, the chemistry is understated yet undeniable; Warwick’s ever-sovelvety delivery juxtaposes Jackson’s earthy sensitivity, creating a dialogue of emotional restraint rather than a battle for dominance.

Wallert’s arrangement complements this restrained approach, providing a polished canvas that neither overwhelms nor recedes.

Historically, it marks a subtle but meaningful bridge between Jackson’s legacy as exemplified in his 2015 induction into the Rhythm and Blues Music Hall of Fame and Warwick’s ability to adapt without losing her distinct identity.

That said, the track stops short of pushing either artist into uncharted emotional or musical territory. It instead works within well-trodden boundaries, making it enduringly pleasant if not groundbreaking.

Lifted from : On TV today, Dionne Warwick with Chuck Jackson (1998)

9 . Luther Vandross . Take You Out

“Take You Out,” from Luther Vandross’s 2001 self-titled album, is a layered display of R&B craftsmanship that leans heavily on Vandross’s unmistakable vocal texture.

Co-produced by Vandross himself, the track feels like both a nod to tradition and a subtle update—a balancing act that lands somewhere between vintage seduction and early 2000s slickness. While the song successfully rides the wave of its Adult R&B chart dominance, even reaching the top 30 of the Billboard Hot 100, it doesn’t necessarily bend the genre in unexpected directions. Instead, it amplifies what Vandross does best: a polished groove cradling his silky, conversational delivery.

The track’s inclusion as part of an album debuting at number six on the US Billboard 200—with 136,000 first-week copies sold—signals the comfort zones of his audience as much as his own. This is Luther Vandross at his most commercially viable, though whether it’s his most creatively adventurous is arguable. The album’s platinum certification from the RIAA underscores its wide reach, but it’s the song’s live performance from “Live at Radio City Music Hall 2003” that gives the listener a sharper sense of its longevity. The live rendition adds a palpable immediacy to what can otherwise feel too spotless in studio form.

Ultimately, “Take You Out” succeeds in reinforcing Vandross’s standing as an R&B institution, but it doesn’t stretch beyond expectations.

Lifted from : Luther Vandross records the album ‘Live Radio City Music Hall 2003’ (2003)

10 . D’Angelo . Lady

“Lady,” the third single from D’Angelo’s 1995 debut album “Brown Sugar,” is a polished piece of neo-soul drenched in warmth and restraint.

Co-written and co-produced by D’Angelo, the song eases into its groove with a confident simplicity, leaning heavily on an understated rhythm section and D’Angelo’s fluid vocal performance. It’s a track that feels more meditative than showy, a controlled declaration of devotion rather than an explosive anthem.

Commercially, it struck a resonant chord, peaking at #10 on the Billboard Hot 100 and reaching #2 on the US R&B/Hip-Hop chart, no small feat for a genre that often straddles the line between pop accessibility and niche admiration. Certified gold by the RIAA in 1996, its performance encapsulates the broad appeal D’Angelo wielded in the mid-’90s without pandering to radio formulas.

Two videos accompanied the release, reflecting its multifaceted appeal. The original, shot in Richmond, Virginia by Hype Williams, is characteristically naturalistic yet chic. The “Clean Street Version,” directed by Brett Ratner, ties the track to the hip-hop world with AZ’s presence while folding in cross-genre nods through cameos like Faith Evans and Erykah Badu in her debut video appearance.

Though nominated for Best Male R&B Vocal Performance at the 1997 Grammy Awards, it lost to Luther Vandross’s “Your Secret Love,” perhaps a testament to the nostalgia-driven leanings of award bodies rather than the song’s undeniable craftsmanship.

“Lady” would later leave fingerprints on tracks like Drake’s “March 14” and Eric Bellinger’s “Curious.” Its stripped-back confidence continues to resonate, suggesting a timelessness that quietly sidesteps desperation for relevance.

Lifted from : Happy Birthday D’Angelo

11 . Lauryn Hill . Something

Lauryn Hill’s purported song “Something,” often linked to her 2014 appearance on the “Late Show with David Letterman,” feels more like an apparition than a canonical piece of her oeuvre.

Her discography, crowned by the Grammy-winning “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill,” remains rooted in authentic soul, hip hop, and the introspective storytelling that catapulted tracks like “Doo Wop (That Thing)” to glory in 1998.

That single, notable for debuting at number one on the *Billboard* Hot 100—a first for a hip hop soloist—lives as a bold testament to Hill’s artistic precision and cultural resonance. “Something,” if it exists at all, stands as a curious outlier, lacking the clear historical traces or layered innovation found in tracks like “Ex-Factor” or “Everything Is Everything.”

Her Letterman performance, although outside her documented catalog, could be seen as a fragment of her mercurial creative ethos. But without official recognition or context, it lingers in obscurity, unspooling none of the rich textures or social critique that make her known works enduringly relevant.

As a whole, one must return to Hill’s verified contributions for a fuller measure of her artistry. This supposed “Something” feels less like an addition to her narrative and more like a vanishing point within it.

Lifted from : On TV today, Ms. Lauryn Hill with David Letterman (2014)

12 . Kanye West . All Falls Down (w/ Syleena Johnson)

“All Falls Down” from Kanye West’s debut album “The College Dropout” (2004) embodies both ambition and self-awareness, setting a tone that blends introspection with mainstream appeal.

The track, co-written and produced by West, channels Lauryn Hill’s “Mystery of Iniquity” through Syleena Johnson’s re-recorded interpolation, a prudent adjustment facilitated by sample clearance hurdles. Such a substitution might seem like a compromise, but Johnson’s voice injects warmth and malleability into the hook, an element Hill’s live original might have overshadowed with its raw edge.

Chart-wise, “All Falls Down” carved its mark with precision, peaking at number seven on the US Billboard Hot 100 and securing Kanye’s first solo Top 10 placement. Its UK trajectory, debuting at number ten and lingering in the Top 100 for eight weeks, mirrored the single’s transatlantic resonance. Meanwhile, its 24-week presence on the Official Hip Hop and R&B Singles Chart, cresting at number four, underscores its genre-defying appeal.

The track’s cultural texture extends to its music video, helmed by Chris Milk and set against the dispassionate backdrop of Ontario International Airport. A continuous perspective frames West as the narrative’s silent nucleus, accompanied by his girlfriend and interspersed with cameos from GLC, Consequence, Common, Kel Mitchell, and Johnson herself. This visual storytelling, lauded by Complex as the 18th best video of the 2000s, underscores the cyclical theme of material disillusionment the lyrics articulate.

Nominated across multiple institutions—from the Grammys to MTV and BET—”All Falls Down” achieves critical validation beyond its sonic achievements. While the accolades highlight its collaborative synergy between hip-hop’s self-deconstruction and soul’s emotive reach, they stop short of anointing the song with untouchable grandeur, an acknowledgment befitting its grounded outlook.

At its core, “All Falls Down” captures early Kanye grappling with materialism and identity, a theme propelled by his knack for fashionable irony. Both self-critical and broadly reflective, the track balances its polished production with a willingness to expose the frayed edges of its subject matter.

Lifted from : Kanye West releases his debut album . ‘The College Dropout’ featuring ‘Through the Wire,’ ‘Jesus Walks,’ ‘All Falls Down’ and ‘Slow Jamz’ (2004)