It’s no fun having to change everyone’s mind about yourself as an artist. It’s no fun to feel like I have to audition for everyone. Or be put out on display for folks to say I strategically put on feather eyelashes just to be different [laughs]. I just want people to fall back and enjoy the music.
SOLANGE KNOWLES IS AN EASY TARGET. Let’s start with the obvious. For months leading up to the August release of her ambitious, kaleidoscopic Sol-Angel and The Hadley St. Dreams (Music World/Geffen), the Houston native has been repeatedly hit with the same question. How do you deal with endless comparisons to your more famous, celebrated sister? Apparently, with a middle finger.
At Norman’s Sound & Vision, a hipster mom-and-pop record shop in New York City’s East Village, Solange taunts the mammoth elephant in the room. But Beyoncé’s baby sis doesn’t joke when she recalls a meeting with a pop star with a similar issue.
“I met Janet Jackson a long time ago, and I felt like she really made it a point to have a moment with me,” Solange says. Looking like a porcelain doll straight out of the ’80s new wave scene—curly hair, fluorescent T-shirt, black stretch pants, and designer high heels—Solange, with perhaps the help of advice from Miss Jackson, remains a touch amused by the notion of sibling rivalry.
“Not everyone has a connection with a super-famous person like I do,” she says, breezily flipping through grubby record racks. “It’s no fun having to change everyone’s mind about yourself as an artist. It’s no fun to feel like I have to audition for everyone. Or be put out on display for folks to say I strategically put on feather eyelashes just to be different [laughs]. I just want people to fall back and enjoy the music.”
It’s true, Damita Jo and Solange share some similarities. Both have lived in the shadow of their universally beloved siblings. Both of their debuts were unmitigated bombs: Janet’s innocuous self- titled 1982 release (A&M) and Solange’s ultra-slick Solo Star (Columbia, 2003). And both assumed grown-ass-woman swagger for future efforts. “I’m not her and never will be,” Solange defiantly sings of you- know-whom on Sol-Angel’s psychedelic intro “God Given Name.” It effectively sets off her own personal Control (A&M, 1986). Musically, at least, Solange Piaget Knowles, 22, has more than done her part.
Instead of adopting the minimalist Euro-synth production that has become a go-to of late or incorporating her sister’s recent forays into hard funk, Solange worships at the altar of ’60s girl groups and sweet ’70s soul singers like Minnie Riperton on Sol-Angel tracks like produced first single, “I Decided—Pt. 1,” and the Soulshock & Karlin–helmed follow-up, “Sandcastle Disco.” Solange even pairs up with Motown legend Lamont Dozier for the torchy “6 O’Clock Blues,” a surprisingly confident and heartfelt work inspired in part by her mother, Tina, a die- hard Supremes fan.
But most of the buzz has centered around this Ms. Knowles’ decidedly unangelic, I-don’t-give-a-fuck ’tude. On record, the mother of 4-year-old Daniel Julez J. Smith curses like a sailor. She laments a one-night stand on the infectious Cee-Lo and Jack Splash–penned “T.O.N.Y.” And on a song cut from the official album at the last minute (but unofficially available for download), she extols the virtues of sticky icky on “ChampagneChroniKnightcap” with Lil Wayne. It’s that carefree bravado that has the blogosphere going nuts. Just days after our sit-down, Solange made headlines for angrily taking a FOX News anchor to task during an on-air interview for what she perceived to be disrespectful inquiries concerning the sale of brother-in-law Jay-Z’s 40/40 Club in Las Vegas. After being roundly criticized on the Web, she went into damage-control mode, recording a video to explain her side of the cringe-worthy ex- change. “I felt very offended that someone would try to bring up something totally irrelevant and totally untrue,” she said. “I stand by my reaction.... So either love me or leave me alone for that.”
Solange’s father, Matthew Knowles, manager and label honcho of Music World Entertainment, says his youngest daughter has been the same stack of sass since eighth grade, when she was suspended for refusing to take down a Nas poster from her locker (young, tattooed Nasir was shirtless) at her Christian school. Solange wasn’t having it. “I was proud of her for taking a position,” the father says by phone from his Houston office. Papa Knowles, who also handles the careers of Beyoncé, soul man Lyfe Jennings, and gospel trio Trin-i-tee 5:7, understands his daughter’s flip-the-switch temperament better than anybody. “I tell her that she has a filthy mouth [laughs]. I have to tell her to take a deep breath sometimes. But that’s who she is.”
Read the rest in our November 2008 issue.
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