Happy 15th Anniversary to Erykah Badu’s fifth studio album New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh), originally released March 30, 2010.
In the last sixty years, the ankh has come to be representative of many things—it has been a symbol of African cultural identity, it has become wrapped up in neo-pagan beliefs and has even entered Goth subculture.
But the ankh is also an important motif for Erykah Badu and anyone with even a passing interest in Baduizm (1997) will have seen it on her era-defining debut album. It’s there across the liner notes, it’s there on the CD that I bought when it was released in 1997 and occupies the label on one side of the vinyl copy I bought a few years ago.
The ancient Egyptian hieroglyph is originally thought to represent “life.” The T-shape, topped with a teardrop shaped loop, is an amalgam of three consonants that appear in the words for “mirror,” “floral bouquet” and “life” (among others). Take a look at the cover for New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh) and the aptness of those words and the symbol become clear.
In marked contrast to the cover of New Amerykah Part One (4th World War) (2008) that was dark, dense and foreboding, the violet hued flora that adorns Part Two’s cover offers a plethora of colorful floral bouquets. The other two words that the ankh appears in find themselves expressed through the subject matter of the songs within.
If we deal in broad characterizations, her previous record was a break from her norm—social issues abounded and her internal world took a backseat to a howl of frustration at the state of the wider world. Here, though, the “mirror” and her internal “life” returned. Brazen honesty and introspection reared its head once more and, as usual, it refused to paint her as anything other than the imperfect being she was.
The first two songs demonstrate the diversity of relationship situations on the album. She starts with “20 Feet Tall” and implores herself to remember she is powerful and worthy of love, while “Window Seat” finds her asking for some solitude before emphasizing that it’s not over. Badu is clearly aware of the tales others tell of being unable to refuse her whims once she turns on the “headlights” as she sings with a hat tip to The Notorious B.I.G. on “Fall In Love” (“You don’t want to fall in love me / cause it’s gonna be some slow singing and flower bringing, if my burglar alarm starts ringing”).
Listen to the Album:
As far as collaborators and personnel go, the same array of talent that aided Part One shows up here. Thundercat adds his inimitable bass, Questlove is sprinkled throughout, the Sa-Ra creative crew lend their particular brand of wonky funk to proceedings and Madlib demonstrates once again, he’s one of the best. But two collaborators stand out—one a long-time partner and a newer, kindred spirit.
Sheffield born James Poyser (claiming him for us Brits there) is the kind of unsung name that rarely, if ever, takes center stage. But his work on piano and keyboards allied to his production skills have contributed greatly to Badu’s catalogue and he deserves some of the shine. Then, on album closer, “Out My Mind (Just in Time)” comes the genius that is Georgia Anne Muldrow in combination with Poyser and others. Another multi-movement song of greater than 10 minutes length (like the impossibly perfect “Green Eyes” from 2000’s Mama’s Gun), it begins as a delicately maudlin piano piece before Muldrow’s futuristic funk kicks in to propel the song to outer space and beyond—it’s another transmogrifying gem of a journey.
As some critics noted at the time, the album is a slighter, lighter version of Badu. Part One had been such a heavy record that this 180-degree turn could only ever have felt that way, but I have a sneaky feeling that this album is less essential than her at her best. Without wanting to sound like an old man shouting at clouds, “Agitation” and “Turn Me Away” hit the spot until you read the credits, search out the original sampled songs and realize that the change of lyrics is the only real difference.
That (possibly out of touch) opinion notwithstanding, there’s enough to love here to make it an interesting addition to her discography, without making it essential to non-fans. But for those of us wholeheartedly devoted to the artistry of Badu, it provides another fascinating step on the journey and reminds us all that she’s been gone too long.
Listen: