Happy 25th Anniversary to Erykah Badu’s Live, originally released November 18, 1997.
Upon first encountering Erykah Badu, everything about her was enchanting and transcendent, as if she carried secrets, contained multitudes, and spent all of her offstage time chanting om. With a distinct voice and towering headwrap that recalled Beach of the War Goddess-era Caron Wheeler, Badu’s debut album Baduizm (1997) positioned her as a mystical soul priestess who knew something we didn’t.
Badu’s label Kedar Entertainment (partnered with Universal Records) also had some insight. They bet on the appeal of their new star, issuing the full concert release Live only nine months after Baduizm touched down.
Apart from tight timing, live projects are almost always a risky bid. If the artist can’t match their studio work, fans lose confidence in their talent. If they stick too closely to those familiar arrangements, the recording will be a bore. All this and you still have to convince radio programmers it won’t alienate their listeners. When you have Badu’s wit though, her extemporaneous adlibs, humor, and fourth-wall-breaking asides make a captivating work.
Badu wasn’t too good for this world. She just looked like it. This is why few expected to ever hear her drawl out an opening line like “I’m gettin’ tiiiiiiired of yo shit / You don’t never buy me nothin’.” Instantly, like nosy neighbors anticipating a screaming fight next door, all ears turned toward Live’s sole single “Tyrone.”
Atop its downshifted, jazzy R&B, “Tyrone” is a raucous battle-of-the-sexes that rides the line between comedy and drama. Having tired of her deadweight beau and his hangers-on Jim, James, Paul, and Tyrone, she has an epiphany on the chorus: “Matter of fact, I think you need to call Tyrone / And tell him come on, help you get yo shit.” Then everyone has to chime in with backing trio Karen Bernod, Joyce Strong, and N’Dambi singing “Call him!”
As with big releases like Missy Elliott’s Supa Dupa Fly (1997), “Tyrone” was such a smash, Kedar declined to press a commercial single in order to bolster album sales of Live. That rendered “Tyrone” ineligible for the Billboard Hot 100, but it topped the R&B Airplay charts. Live consequently did the same on the R&B Albums chart, even reaching #4 on the US Billboard 200 and achieving double platinum sales overall.
Generally, conversation about Live begins and ends with “Tyrone,” leaving its other highlights in shadow, but Badu is an excellent interpreter of song. She freshens her own material well giving Baduizm cuts “Other Side of the Game,” “Certainly,” and “Next Lifetime” fleshed out renditions that make full use of her skeleton-but-skilled band (bassist Hubert Eaves IV, keyboardist Norman Hurt, and drummer Charles “Poogie” Bell Jr.).
When approaching “On & On” in concert, it’s recognizable but embellished. Hurt crosses the verses with chords from Mary J. Blige’s “Love No Limit” (the What’s The 411? original, not the remix). Just in time for Badu to interject a freestyle rap verse, the motif flips again to Jeff Lorber’s “Rain Dance” as immortalized via Lil’ Kim’s “Crush on You.” It’s a ‘90s time capsule. The cherry on top is its reprise where Badu decodes its cryptic terminology for the audience. I’m still lost about “born underwater with three dollars and six dimes,” but if you want to feel like an insider, she does all the math for you.
Typically, live albums aren’t tendered until an artist has a deep catalog where each number is already a crowd favorite. Badu, however, used the opportunity to flaunt her extensive knowledge of ‘70s and ‘80s jazz and soul. She fortified her setlist with diversions into Heatwave’s “Boogie Nights,” Mary Jane Girls’ “All Night Long,” Tom Browne’s “Funkin’ For Jamaica,” Rene & Angela’s “You Don’t Have To Cry,” and Roy Ayers’ “Searching.” A bit of Miles Davis’ 1959 classic “So What” even makes its way into her the show’s overture. This is summer-in-the-park music that fits her brand: old school enough for the previous generation, cool enough for the next.
Among these offerings, the true gem on Live is a cover of “Stay,” the brightest sparkler from Rufus & Chaka Khan’s Street Player (1978). Badu introduces it with a chuckled confession, “I was gonna do it at the Soul Train Awards, but I was scared.” Shockingly, she had the nerve to sing it in the original key, and the piercing upper range to execute its daunting climax. As rich as Baduizm is, Live revealed an Erykah that had been living below her means. She wasn’t just hoping for hits, she was founding a career she could grow old with.
Baduizm elevated Badu as an artist and future icon, but Live brought her otherworldly persona down to earth where her people could feel her. “Look, I choose peace but say... don't walk up on me wrong,” she once tweeted. “This tea and incense can turn into Colt 45 and Newports if need be, OK?” This is the Badu that audiences came to love and identify with. When she calls out “Sisters, how y’all feel?” and “Brothers, y’all alright?” the responses to her call are confirmation she’s in touch with her folks. This is the connection that sustains her artistry.
In hindsight, committing this mesmerizing live show to tape was a timely move. While shuffling out hit singles from Baduizm like a blackjack dealer, the artist discovered that she and then-boyfriend André 3000 of OutKast were expecting their first child together. Introducing Live’s only other new song “Ye Yo,” Badu announced, “I’d like to dedicate this song to my baby Fly, ‘cause I am her ye yo [which] means ‘mother.’” The liner notes waffled on naming the child either Fly or Seven, but as fate would have it, their son Seven Sirius Benjamin was born November 18, 1997, the day Live arrived in stores.
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Before the dawn of her magnum opus Mama’s Gun in 2000, the new mom earned a pair of GRAMMY nominations for Best R&B Album (Live) and Best Female R&B Vocal Performance (“Tyrone”) in 1999. The bigger honor is that her playful warning before “Tyrone” (“Now keep in mind I’m a artist and I’m sensitive about my shit!”) became a pop culture standard disclaimer before any creative’s presentation.
More compelling releases followed, but since the mixtape-style concept project But You Caint Use My Phone (2015) drew its title from “Tyrone,” Badu paused her recorded output. Even without throwing new music into a congested digital marketplace, Badu is constantly creating. She tours year-round. Her sets are rarely rote, always changing, cipher still “moving like a rolling stone.” She’s an artist everyone needs to experience in person at least once. Until such time as you can, Live is required listening.
LISTEN: