Nikka Costa’s Can’tneverdidnothin’: Funk/Rock Goodness
By no means a bad album, it was simply more of a really good album that had been terribly overrated. And even the ones who called the album on its shortcomings gave it a deserved pass, in hopes Nikka would take the sensational moments and grow them into a full-length release. A quarter-mil sold and 4 years later, Nikka Costa returns with Can’tneverdidnothin’.
Instead of trying to evolve her sound and grow as an artist, Nikka seems content trying to update the sound of her previous album. Thus, the subtle flaws of her debut haven’t aged well and stick out like a sore thumb on here. I may be a bit biased since I caught Nikka’s show at the Roxy last Tuesday but while her live show was nothing short of a mesmeric climax, that same infectious synergy doesn’t translate too well onto record. Her live show seemed more visceral; the album seems more intentional. Take lead single, Till I Get To You.
It was unanimous that the intended lead single from a year ago, “I Don’t Think We’ve Met” (strangely absent from the track listing), was the better choice. But that doesn’t negate the decency of this track. However, the differences between the live and studio versions are quite striking. On stage, Nikka performs the tune with such a reckless abandon, infectiously awakening the mental visuals as she recites her entanglements with lovers A-T. On record, the overall sound is a bit too intentional. The guitars and drums are a bit too polished and Nikka’s vocals are a bit too controlled. By all means is it a catchy as all get-out record. But it kinda just plays through, with us, the listeners, waiting for something that never does happen to happen.
Title track, Can’tneverdidnothin’, fares better. The sound is a little dirtier and unfocused, and comes off a little more natural. It still doesn’t carry the infectious reckless abandon of the live version, but it does put forth more of an infectious effort courtesy of the crunching guitars and drums laced with a spry horn blare. Nikka’s adds a little more bass to her voice and has more of a sneer in the vocals as she gives a great tongue lashing to advocates of laziness. This song hints at growth and evolution and the fact that such an development never takes place makes songs like these more frustrating listens.
Things get a little easier to digest as they mellow out with purported 2nd single Fooled Ya Baby and I Gotta Know.“Fooled” benefits from a more mellow, simpler pop/rock arrangement, with light percussion, rhythm guitar and acoustic guitar, and from Nikka’s soulfully rich vocal performance. Less snarl and growl, more emotion as she expresses regret over letting Mr. Right slip thru her hands and subsequently showcases her presence as a vocalist. The simpler production and arrangement, once again, proves to be Nikka’s forte and it’s proven even more so with “I Gotta Know.” Starting off with nothing more than a singer/songwriter’s dream piano arrangement, and slowly building to a climax of percussion, bass, and strings, Nikka stretches the song gorgeously with her emotive vocals. She begins with a slight sting of pain and hesitation in her vocal tone before unleashing a soulfully controlled wail that understates the emotion extremely well. Understated and unassuming is when Nikka is at her most intriguing.
Yet again, the next two tracks prove why those moments of greatness are such frustrating listens; both Around The World and Swing It Around pander a little too hard for airplay. “Around The World” doesn’t fare well because of it’s somewhat offbeat melody and askew vocal arrangements. Couple that with the superficial, verbose lyricism and the instrumentation being a bit too polished and clean and you have all the makings of a record purposely made to stand a chance at top-40 radio. “Swing It Around” seems to borrow the rhythmic bassline from its predecessor and loop it around a hip-hopish clap track and thump-percussion for a rather boring arrangement. The instrumentation sounds a bit hollow and while Nikka’s lyricism, so sassily kissing off an irritating potential suitor, is smooth and engaging, it would be much more effective and memorable against a more animated setting. Once more, the production is too clean, polished, and intentional for it’s own good.
Reparations are momentarily paid with the 3:45 sonic experience that is Funkier Than A Mosquito’s Tweeter. From the title alone, one would expect an animated funk/rock voyage or an vivacious instrumental when one gets a low-key, rhythmic African tribal chant that is both the album’s centerpiece and masterpiece. The one song Nikka didn’t write nor produce with husband, Justin Stanley, should not shockingly be the album’s most entertaining moment. Starting with nothing but African bongos and ending up in a fusion of revving guitars, sweltering percussion, and fierce horns, the live interpretation is nothing short of a spiritual orgasm, with Nikka being the seductive temptress channeling all the energy into a climactic frenzy. This is the record that comes closest to emulating the live experience. The frenzy is noticeably and expectedly more tame and controlled but still contains enough fire and dynamism to make an infectious impact.
Ironic how Lenny Kravitz makes a couple credited appearances on the album and On & On sounds like one of the best records he never recorded. Yet again, a rather simple and straight-forward record; crunching guitars, ragged percussion and Nikka’s ferocious snarl all making an interesting proposition to a gentleman caller. In less than 3:00, Nikka shows just how much greatness she’s capable of achieving and then proceeds to show just how well she can maintain it with Happy In The Morning. With a rhythmic groove reminiscent of both Prince and Sly Stone, this is the album’s rare instance where Nikka achieves greatness and accidentally creates a radio-friendly tune. The metrical bass is undeniable and mixed with the snaking percussion and funked-out synths, Nikka creates one funky jam that makes you both applaud her fulfilling her potential and then reproving her for wasting it on moments like Hey Love.
“Hey Love” isn’t good nor bad; it’s just kinda boring and seems to meander without a point to be made. The inspirational lyrics to Nikka’s lover for him to keep the faith are heartfelt and endearing but with such an anemic arrangement and execution, it makes it harder for someone to keep interest, let alone keep the faith. And if you hoped things would be rectified by album’s end with Nikka’s ode to her deceased father, Fatherless Child, you were sadly mistaken. Nikka’s heartfelt lyrics and somber vocals are definitely a smidge heartbreaking but the acoustic synth-keyboard providing the sole background is definitely too lethargic instead of melancholic and makes for one drowsy finale. However, the hidden cover of Nina Simone’s Sugar In My Bowl is a sweet surprise and somewhat rectifies the second-rate end.
Had this been Nikka Costa’s debut album, it would’ve fared much better. Then she would’ve had the excuse of inexperience and been able to justify her stumbling through the dark and trying to find the lights of brilliance. But considering it’s not, she has no excuses. After basically being told what she did wrong on her debut, Nikka should’ve taken the constructive criticism and allowed herself to evolve into a more fulfilled artist. Instead, she turns a deaf ear and seems complacent to record the same generic, derivative funk/blues/pop/jazz/rock that gained her the little exposure she has. Her stagnancy is what’s most frustrating and in the end, makes her record a superficial enjoyment. On stage, she’s a funk/rock goddess poised to conquer the world. On record, she’s a funk/rock studio singer relishing in the fact she can’t never did nothin’ she ain’t already done did.
Sad thing is, she probably won’t ever do anything else.
