MUSICALLY AND PERSONALLY, Meshell Ndegeocello has always defied definitions and boundaries. She chose her own surname, Swahili for “free bird,” as a teenager (pronounced en-deh-gay-oh-cello). She is a bassist who is also up front as a bandleader and singer. She is a poet and a thinker in dialogue with artists both historic and contemporary. Even her take on politics sets her outside of the mainstream: “I was brought up not to be of the world,” she says. “I see politics for what it is, or as my father used to say, it is the ugly man’s Hollywood.”
Musically, she goes seamlessly from R&B and soul to something much harder to define. Her 2024 record, No More Water: The Gospel of James Baldwin, is as much a literary journey as a musical one, and won the inaugural Grammy Award for Best Alternative Jazz album.
Following Baldwin and 2023’s The Omnichord Real Book, Ndegeocello is set to release her third Blue Note album, Synonym, on Oct. 2. It’s a collection of covers of famous songs from “Islands in the Stream” to her current favorite, Bob Dylan’s “God on Our Side.”
Ndegeocello is this year’s commission artist for the Monterey Jazz Festival, and performs on Saturday night. The bassist will be joined by a band of all bassists.
Weekly: “America 250” is the theme the Monterey Jazz Festival gave for your commission piece. How are you approaching that complicated theme?
Ndegeocello: Coming off of the Baldwin, it’s very aligned. When the offer came, before the Fourth of July, I was watching everything ramp up and it was permeating the culture.
What inspired me was a great Atlantic article. It was fascinating to me, the history and backstory of America juxtaposed to “The Star-Spangled Banner,” which won in a national polling contest.
Mine is sort of a play on America, through my lens. I cowrote it with Justin Hicks, he and I have been writing so much together. I am more of a poet than a lyricist. I can really distill an idea; I love how Justin can really make it flow. I wrote two songs, inspired by the Atlantic magazine article and Billy Joel.
Here you are writing in dialogue with the national anthem, a couple of years after your dialogue with James Baldwin, a great essayist and novelist. What was that process like?
Baldwin came to me as a commission from the Harlem Stage. I had been familiar with Baldwin – I had read essays, Notes of a Native Son, and [the novel] Giovanni’s Room. But I had never read The Fire Next Time. I lived with that book for a year-and-a-half in my pocket. It was like the parent I never had. It was a window into the past and at the same time, a forklift out of it. It just really helped me have more grace toward my parents.
When I finally got into reading Baldwin just a few years ago, I was deeply moved – and also angry. I feel betrayed by an American public education system that allowed me to attend school without ever reading him.
I knew all the Shakespearean sonnets, I knew all the Disney books. I was a voracious reader – I taught my mother to read. The Baldwin thing, it just allowed me grace for all people.
Your record really elevates his words, and combined with your writing and Justin Hicks’ writing, it is just an emotional listening experience.
I was born in ’68. Civil rights is only as old as I am.
I am from a generation that has you believe, “I can do anything, I can be anything.” I got to my 40s and realized, these things are happening because of systemic racism. Thank god I have music to move me through class. Baldwin just really educated me about my place in the world.
I think what we’re watching now are the last hopes of people who really believe in their power. What had to happen for them to create the other? Why do you need it so much to build yourself up? It transcends race, it transcends gender, the idea of the other that you ruled over, that you want to control. We call it “governing.” We are having a reckoning at 250 years, what this country is truly about. What is our place in the shifting sands of power?
What is the role of music and art more broadly in that dynamic – is it a form of social action?
I am trying to be a good citizen, but I don’t know. “This weapon kills fascists,” to quote my brother Woody.
In most cultures it is something that brings a community together, that gives catharsis. It is a celebration, we use it for mourning, we use it for praise. It is, to me, the foundation of truly remaining human.
Synonym is also very much a dialogue, featuring a long list of famous singers (like Chaka Khan, Cynthia Erivo, Cat Power and Bill Callahan) and songwriters. It’s all covers.
I don’t think of myself as a great songwriter, I think I’m a good song stylist. I like to take a song and see what other universes live within it.
When it’s a really good song, it doesn’t matter when it comes out. You’re not looking to hit a trend.
The structure of the album – with duos singing all these famous songs, always a pairing of voices who identify as the same gender – is also shining a light on the idea of othering.
It’s the people who get lost in history, the people who weren’t up front but what they had to give has changed us irrevocably, like [civil rights leader] Bayard Rustin who organized the March on Washington, or the great arranger Billy Strayhorn.
There are a lot of artists like that. Luckily I was an artist at a time when my fluidity wasn’t a burden or asset, it just was.
It’s not just social conditions but the music industry that’s changed a lot during your career. How do you feel about streaming?
I know Spotify has ruined it for a lot of people, but I see the joy on my son’s face that he has access to music.
What about AI in music?
I don’t think about it, to be honest. It’s unnerving.
[But even before AI], Brian McKnight took a part of my sound [in 1997]; you couldn’t doubt it. Everyone was like, “you should take him to court.” I just didn’t have the money. But I’m glad I didn’t, because I am so blessed. He sold many more records than me, but I continue to have a career and my imagination is staying fluid. I am trying to not be distracted by fear of a lack.
Did you ever have a conversation with McKnight about it?
No. There are real problems going on in the world.
Tell me a little bit more about what audience members can expect from your Jazz Festival set.
There’s going to be a lot of amazing, beautiful people there who have spent a lot of money to come have a good time to hear quality music. I want to play a set that even if you do not know my music you’re going to go, “That sounds good.” I’m 58 years old, there is not a lot of dancing going on. It is still an audible experience.
We always throw in a cover because we’re in a relationship, we’re in a dance. That’s why I love covers; it gets to the essence of what’s important.
What’s next?
I really like theater. I would like to work on an opera.
MESHELL NDEGEOCELLO performs at the Monterey Jazz Festival at 7-8:15pm Saturday, Sept. 26 on the Jimmy Lyons Stage.