Angie Stone's 'Brotha' is special to women too
Songs like Cecily Wilborn's 'Southern Man' and Angie Stone's 'Good Man' are energy boosters for the soul
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My heart breaks for incredible soul singers like Roberta Flack and Angie Stone, who died in a car crash in Montgomery, Alabama this morning. She was 63 years old. Whoever saw her at that last show with her band members and background singers no doubt saw an incredible show, judging from what I saw some time between 2008-09.
Original post: November 29, 2023
I’ve seen many free concerts at the Taste of Chicago with the who’s who in entertainment (from Stevie Wonder to Salt n’ Pepa). I’ve enjoyed free concerts at Real Men Cook with artists like LeToya Luckett and Slim from 112. Then there were huge concerts in grad school like the first time I saw Nas perform live. Or, when I leaped into action to buy “Best of Both Worlds” tickets before Jay Z peace’d out on a certain Chicago artist and started working with his New York friends. Going to live concerts — twisted ankle and all — will forever be top-tier entertainment for me!
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But if someone were to ask me to choose my favorite concert of all time, I’m not sure anyone will ever beat two artists: Al Green or Angie Stone. Al Green’s discography and live performance is so amazing that I couldn’t even sit still on the blanket outside. I had to get up and dance through the majority of his performance.
Then there was Angie Stone. I kinda sorta liked her songs but went to her concert solely because the marketing team at my then-newspaper job had free tickets. And who doesn’t like “free”?
That day, I didn’t expect her to become one of my favorite performers. That is, until she burst out singing “Brotha” and black men everywhere in the crowd leaped up, sang almost every word and some were damn near in tears at the homage to them.
No disrespect to Ne-Yo, one of my favorite R&B artists and the epitome of professionalism as an interviewee. But as much as I love his single “Good Man,” there’s something about women telling a man he’s a good man that hits differently. It’s an official co-sign instead of a self-reflecting hope. It’s why I love Angie Stone’s new song “Good Man” (the “ohh, ohh” part is super catchy) more than his. It’s also why I crank up the volume on Cecily Wilborn’s “Southern Man.” It hits differently when you are the recipient of the compliment.
These kinds of songs are not only feel-good music that give black women the unapologetic ability to not-so-humble brag on their men, but it’s also a welcome relief from the toxic nature of far too many songs out today.
Recommended Read: “Don’t weigh in on positive black shows if you only support ratchet TV ~ How ‘The Photograph’ supporters made me reevaluate my take on African-American entertainment”
I’m not gonna act like I never rapped about being “s-i-n-g-l-e again” even if I don’t hang out windows with my “ratchet ass friends.” But on an everyday basis, I don’t want to hear about how much other people hate n**gas and b**tches or why I don’t f**k with you. Even on my singliest singlity day, I’d still rather hear songs that make me feel like a third wheel around other couples than for us all to have our middle fingers in the air and scowling about how horrible the opposite gender is. (Does that mean I didn’t listen to “Lemonade” 50 billion times? Absolutely not. I’ll listen to it again after I type this post.)
But I like R&B music. I like traditional R&B music. I love love music. I like songs that warm my heart, but I really like seeing the people surrounding me have their hearts warmed by lyrics giving them their just due. And that was what it was like to see all those black men stand up like they heard an army command the millisecond Angie Stone started humming and the beat dropped. They knew what was coming with “Brotha.”
Afterward, she even tried to sing another song (the name of the song escapes me) as a dedication to black women. She jokingly reprimanded sistas for not getting as hype about the song about sisterly love as we did about “Brotha.” Guilty. I will admit to dancing around far more to “Brotha” than I did to the other song, but it hit differently to see all the men in her music video. (I love that she doubled down on this theory and released “Sisters” in 2012 to try to give us an anthem for each other.) I went home that night and re-listened to all of her other albums. All her music sounded richer and better to me after seeing her live.
Still, these kinds of songs (and concerts) are why I ignore people like Diddy saying R&B is dead and him claiming his album “The Love Album: Off the Grid Studio album” is bringing it back to life. I heard it. I wasn’t impressed. What impresses me is hearing R&B singers bust out — without vocoders, autotune or lip synching — on the “R&B Money” podcast or hearing their top five. It’s those love song reminders (J. Valentine had some doozies I’d never even heard of) that make me want to be right back where I was — standing at an Angie Stone concert or an Al Green concert to enjoy those kinds of moments again. As long as I have those memories and the ability to celebrate those artists, R&B will never ever be dead to me.
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