SOMETHING OLD
Curtis Mayfield - (Don’t Worry) If There Is a Hell Below, We’re All Going to Go
1970
Curtis Mayfield - (Don’t Worry) If There Is a Hell Below, We’re All Going to Go
1970
Following a gentle soul career with The Impressions, Curtis Mayfield released his first solo album with his name written in a thick black font while wearing a bright yellow leisure suit. There was no room for doubt that he was prepared to start a new chapter while embodying one word: bold.
This would be further proven when 1970 listeners took the record out of the sleeve and heard the needle hit the groove for the first song: (Don’t Worry) If There Is a Hell Below, We’re All Going to Go.
We hear some chatter, a fuzz-bass guitar, and drums behind a young woman preaching the importance of the Book of Revelations and its potential for a better world. Immediately after, Mayfield shouts a haunting message to all ethnicities with a deep echo overdub, and then a scream that feels like the blueprint for Kendrick Lamar's u 45 years later.
The song's fixation on the words "don't worry" are pretty eerie. Especially with the added context of a worshipper in the intro, there may not be many people who take the notion of all of us going to hell as consolation. Mayfield does a bit of a 180 in comparison to his 1965 People Get Ready, which asserts that all good people who have faith will be saved when the "train" comes, but there will be no room for the hopeless sinners. Now, there's no room nor hope for any of us. This isn't a shocking turnaround considering the chaos that ensued in terms of race relations through the five years between the two songs. After all, 1968 didn't save the white RFK nor the black MLK. We're all going to go.
We hear some chatter, a fuzz-bass guitar, and drums behind a young woman preaching the importance of the Book of Revelations and its potential for a better world. Immediately after, Mayfield shouts a haunting message to all ethnicities with a deep echo overdub, and then a scream that feels like the blueprint for Kendrick Lamar's u 45 years later.
The song's fixation on the words "don't worry" are pretty eerie. Especially with the added context of a worshipper in the intro, there may not be many people who take the notion of all of us going to hell as consolation. Mayfield does a bit of a 180 in comparison to his 1965 People Get Ready, which asserts that all good people who have faith will be saved when the "train" comes, but there will be no room for the hopeless sinners. Now, there's no room nor hope for any of us. This isn't a shocking turnaround considering the chaos that ensued in terms of race relations through the five years between the two songs. After all, 1968 didn't save the white RFK nor the black MLK. We're all going to go.
SOMETHING NEW
Jill Scott - Offdaback
February 13th, 2026
Jill Scott - Offdaback
February 13th, 2026
Jill Scott's latest record To Whom This May Concern is a revival of sorts. It's her first full-length project in a decade, which she attributes to the time it takes to find inspiration. As Jean-Jacques Rousseau said: patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.
The record's fourth track is my favorite for its spirit of hope and its jazz feel. The song is essentially a thank you note and love letter to her ancestors. Scott thanks both her true ancestors from her family as well as the Black female musical legends whose resistance against the status quo enabled her artistic success, whispering names like Nina (Simone), Ella (Fitzgerald), Billie (Holiday), and more.
The song is a beautiful tribute to each and every one of those people, and has been released at a perfect time during Black History Month. She recognizes that her ability to walk in the world in every way she does is "offdaback" of her ancestors. She mirrors complete humility and gratitude toward those who paved the way for her, and does it with such fascinatingly compelling rhythmic choices.
They did it for themselves
But ultimately... they did it for us
Thank you, thank you
All because of you
They did it for themselves
But ultimately... they did it for us
Thank you, thank you
All because of you
SOMETHING BORROWED
Aaliyah - At Your Best (You Are Love) (The Isley Brothers)
1994
Aaliyah - At Your Best (You Are Love) (The Isley Brothers)
1994
With Beethoven and his deafness as a partial exception, I have always felt that strokes of musical genius come from the ear and the heart. From my own biases and bitterness, I've long disregarded theory as the core of music, or that it at least pales in comparison to what can best be described as "soul." The Isley Brothers wrote (At Your Best) You Are Love in 1975, already twenty years into their career as a group. They wrote a beautiful song.
Fast forward to the 90s, Aaliyah was only fifteen years old and fixing to record her first album. She may have not written a word of this tune, but she heard something in the Ronald Isley-sung "let me know" lyric, and ascended it to heaven. The way she repeatedly sings those three words is the foundation of her cover, and the evidence of her melodic prowess. I have perhaps over-used the word "angelic" in application to female singers, but it is beyond apt here.
Despite sounding like a mature singer, the purity heard here may have only been possible through a teenage girl. I hope that the eternally young Aaliyah will always be remembered for these musical moments of unadulterated magic.
Despite sounding like a mature singer, the purity heard here may have only been possible through a teenage girl. I hope that the eternally young Aaliyah will always be remembered for these musical moments of unadulterated magic.
SOMETHING... ROOTED IN THE ORIGINS OF HIP HOP
Gil Scott-Heron - Whitey on the Moon
1975
For many, the Apollo moon landings were a revelation of the future. Neil Armstrong's feet touching the crust of the moon signified unprecedented advancements in technology. A great deal of money was spent on space exploration, which was generally considered worthwhile taxpayer investment, if only for the sense of accomplishment and pride, particularly in competition with the Soviets.
There was an opinion, however, that the money spent on going to space would have been mighty helpful here on Earth. In a time of high taxes, poverty, and oppression, there were some that condemned the focus on space as they felt stranded on the planet they already could not afford to live on.
Gil Scott-Heron made this opinion heard, and it left a mark. Scott-Heron set his poem Whitey on the Moon to a Congo drum accompaniment, creating the spoken-word sound he would later become famous for in other songs, like The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.
This style originated in both poetry and The Dozens, an urban tradition in Black communities that used playful rhyming as vocal combat amongst friends insulting each other. Deeply ingrained into Black culture, this style of speech would become a vehicle to speak on racial inequity. By the late 70s, DJs and MCs started pairing up with funk and soul records alongside the speech that we now know as rap.
Gil Scott-Heron - Whitey on the Moon
1975
For many, the Apollo moon landings were a revelation of the future. Neil Armstrong's feet touching the crust of the moon signified unprecedented advancements in technology. A great deal of money was spent on space exploration, which was generally considered worthwhile taxpayer investment, if only for the sense of accomplishment and pride, particularly in competition with the Soviets.
There was an opinion, however, that the money spent on going to space would have been mighty helpful here on Earth. In a time of high taxes, poverty, and oppression, there were some that condemned the focus on space as they felt stranded on the planet they already could not afford to live on.
Gil Scott-Heron made this opinion heard, and it left a mark. Scott-Heron set his poem Whitey on the Moon to a Congo drum accompaniment, creating the spoken-word sound he would later become famous for in other songs, like The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.
This style originated in both poetry and The Dozens, an urban tradition in Black communities that used playful rhyming as vocal combat amongst friends insulting each other. Deeply ingrained into Black culture, this style of speech would become a vehicle to speak on racial inequity. By the late 70s, DJs and MCs started pairing up with funk and soul records alongside the speech that we now know as rap.
In a modern time of SpaceX and immense societal toils, Scott-Heron's simple song not only innovated one of the 21st century's most popular genres, but remains deeply relevant in its message.