New Amerykah Part 2 (Return of the Ankh) by Erykah Badu

New Amerykah Part II (Return of the Ankh) by Erykah Badu
The Ankh, also known as key of life, the key of the Nile or crux ansata, was the Egyptian hieroglyphic character that read "eternal life". Egyptian gods are often portrayed carrying it by its loop, or bearing one in each hand, arms crossed over their chest. (Thanks Wiki!)
Erykah Badu has drawn some attention recently over the music video to this album’s first single, “Window Seat”, in which she strolls through the streets of Dallas, slowly removing her clothing until she is shot and falls to the concrete dead, evoking the specter of JFK’s gruesome assassination. In her blending of Neo-Soul beats, and hazy 70’s funk production, her P-Funk croon Badu attempts to use her music as a way of exercising spiritual demons from the past and putting them in relevant context for listeners today. An admirable task, and an admittedly difficult one which she only occasionally pulls off with the grace and dexterity of contemporaries like D’Angelo, Maxwell, and baby-daddy Andre 3000.

This follow up to Pt 1, which I haven’t heard and I think I would enjoy, is rumination about love and relationships accented by her sharp, smoky voice. And while I usually agree with her about love (It’s hard!), I disagree with her about funk. George Clinton believed that if you moved your ass, you freed your mind, where as Badu seems to want to sedate both. The tinkerings of this album are often beautiful, but often sedate, caught in hazy loops which don’t enhance the lyrical concept of this work and, frankly, make the songs kinda boring. “Window Seat” is good rainy day listening and instrumental “Incense” reminds me of my beloved blaxploitation soundtracks but the songs don’t really move. She goes for transcendence but ends up lost in her own earthiness not understanding that that’s the only place transcendence ever goes. It’s tragic, but unintentionally so.

This is an enjoyable retro-fitted record that subverts some of my favorite music, but the funk Badu subverts is jagged and rough, twisting the listener in unexpected directions taunting you with complex rhythms that made you want to dance but are bafflingly asymmetrical. You see, the big joke is that there is no Ankh; there are just asses, brains, and heartbeats. Joke’s on her. 2.5/5