Presiding over a roomful of music journalists inside Geffen Records’ Manhattan offices, powerhouse music impresario Matthew Knowles prepares to play some tracks from his youngest daughter’s sophomore album, SoL-AngeL and The Hadley St. Dreams (Music World/Geffen). But before doing so, he can’t resist telling a story about a young Solange Piaget Knowles.
“Years ago, we had these shelves in our living room,” he says. “They were filled with trophies and plaques my older daughter, Beyoncé, had won in different talent shows. I came home from work one day, and every last one of those trophies was broken and scattered across the room!” He smiles at the memory, shaking his head. “Solange broke them, every single one-and didn’t deny it.”
A few days later, Solange phones in from Sacramento, California, one of the stops on her six-week “Art of Love” tour with R&B crooners Raheem DeVaughn and Chrisette Michele. Asked about the destructive episode, she’s quick to defend herself. “I was seven,” she says, laughing. “My sister was this beautiful little peasant girl, so gentle and delicate. And I was always in trouble in dance class for dancing too hard or being too aggressive. Anyway, one day I just got tired of looking at those damn trophies. So yeah, I broke ‘em up.”
Did she feel any remorse? “I did feel bad,” she admits, “but not till recently.”
Fifteen years after demolishing her sister’s tokens of success, Solange is hell bent on filling her own shelves with prizes. She still has the same assertive, take-no-prisoners attitude, but now she’s able to channel those qualities into her music, making her stubborn streak work to her benefit. Her daring, uncompromising sophomore album comes as a welcome surprise in an era when R&B is so formulaic.
But is the world ready for Solange? She’s hidden in the shadow of her sister since the dawn of Destiny’s Child. In fact, Solange landed her first résumé-building gig in 1999, at the age of 13, when she was drafted to replace a pregnant backup dancer on the Destiny’s Child/Christina Aguilera tour. Positioning herself behind her sister has often been, literally, part of the job description. Just roll back the tape: There she was, making a cameo appearance while pregnant with her son, Daniel Julez J. Smith (now three), in the video for Destiny’s Child’s 2004 hit “Soldier.” And again, in 2007, doing the scissor-leg dance and pat-pat-patting her weave in Beyoncé’s “Get Me Bodied” clip.
When she finally struck out on her own with 2003′s dancehall-flavored Solo Star (Columbia), Solange was met with lukewarm reviews and disappointing sales.
It’s no wonder, then, that when Solange’s career path starts to resemble that of her sister’s, she makes a hard right turn. She addresses the issue candidly with the ballad “My God Given Name,” arguably SoL-AngeL’s standout track, on which she sings, “I’m not becoming expectation / I’m not her and never will be / Two girls gone in different direction / Traveling toward the same galaxy / Let my starlight shine on its own / No, I’m no sister / I’m just my god-given name.”
The comparisons are inevitable: Beyoncé is a poised, discreet, reticent ice queen. Solange is a loose-lipped whirlwind, throwing out the F-word like she gets royalties for it. And, unlike her sister, Solange has no interest in censoring herself.
“In previous interviews, I’ve tried to be politically correct,” Solange says. “I’m done with that. On this album, and just in general, I’m giving you who I am. And fuck everyone who doesn’t get me. I’m very proud of what I’ve accomplished.”
She should be. Solange’s new release is a delightfully eclectic ride, a retro concept album thoroughly influenced by the go-go ’60s, Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound and, most of all, Motown’s golden age.
When Solange began recording in 2007, she drew up a wish list of producers with whom she wanted to work. She reached out to folks-and no one called her back. Sure, she’s B’s little sister, which one might assume would automatically secure the eager participation of folks like Sean Garrett, The-Dream and Swizz Beatz. She’s also a bona fide songwriter, having co-written hit tracks for Beyoncé (“Get Me Bodied” and “Upgrade U”), Kelly Rowland (“Love”) and Michelle Williams (“We Break the Dawn”). But still, being Solange Knowles came with its own set of challenges.
“I couldn’t get the people I wanted to work with,” she explains. “I could’ve worked with the usual suspects, but I wanted Zero 7 and Mark Ronson. And these are people who were not willing to give up their credibility just because I’ve co-written some pop records and have a successful sister.”
Luckily, Solange wasn’t about to take no for an answer. After repeatedly requesting a meeting with Gnarls Barkley’s Cee-Lo Green-to no avail-she decided some female ingenuity was in order. “For six months I kept reaching out to his people and getting bullshit answers about his busy schedule,” Solange explains. “Then one night, I was in LA, and my girlfriend called me and said she ran into him at her hotel and he invited her to hang out.” Solange got a sitter for her son, downloaded her songs onto her iPhone and met up with her friend and Cee-Lo’s crew.
“We’re having fun and then I say, ‘Cee-Lo, you want to hear my record?’” Solange laughs. “He was like, ‘Chile, you really throwing me off right now.’ I played my songs anyway, and he said, ‘Shit! This is good, girl. I’m shocked! I’d love to write for you.’”
The two co-wrote the breezy, tambourine-driven “Sandcastle Disco,” featuring Q-Tip, a modern, funky take on the Motown sound popularized by The Marvelettes and Martha & the Vandellas.
Despite the initial bumps in the road, the final album features appearances by Lil Wayne, Floetry’s Marsha Ambrosius and R&B singer Bilal, as well as production by Mark Ronson, Jack Slash and Pharell Williams (who worked on the first single, “I Decided,” which features the same tempo that starts off The Supremes’ 1964 hit “Where Did Our Love Go”). Perhaps most telling, Solange worked with Lamont Dozier, who famously penned dozens of Motown’s greatest hits.
Although her sound is decidedly retro, Solange can hardly be depicted as an old-fashioned gal. She was only 17 when she got pregnant by her high school sweetheart, football player Daniel Smith. A wedding followed in February 2004 and their son was born in October, but her marriage collapsed after just three years. And now, the divorcée is singing about smoking weed and having one-night stands.
On “ChampagneChronicNightcap,” featuring Lil Wayne, she extols the virtues of making love while under the influence with lyrics such as “Light the ‘dro / Sip on Mo.” Asked if she smokes marijuana, Solange chooses her words carefully. “My parents always warn me, ‘Don’t tell your business,’ but I am unapologetic,” she says with a chuckle. “I don’t write about things unless they’re true! I’m a grown-ass woman, and I’ve experienced grown-ass things.”
It’s this type of candor that makes Solange so relatable. Like Mary J. Blige, she sings about real-life experiences, admits to her mistakes and cops to her flaws. And if people want to judge her, well, let ‘em. After all, she’s just trying to make good music. Smart money says Solange will have her own trophies to display soon. Here’s hoping Beyoncé doesn’t claim revenge.
- ALIYA S. KING
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