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Hooligan No More: Vic Mensa’s Growth As A Man Is Just As Palpable On Wax

"I'm motivated by the desire to create things that will impact people and help people."

Despite his upcoming EP being named after a mischief maker, Vic Mensa’s growth exhibited in the quarter-century of his life shows that he’s come a very long way as an artist, activist, and man. The Chicago-bred spitter and activist’s latest project Hooligans will be unveiled to fans in its entirety on Dec. 14. Named after his childhood crew who dubbed themselves the “Hyde Park Hooligans,” the eight-track effort is pre-released by two singles, “Reverse” featuring G-Eazy and the “twisted” “Dark Things,” which features a gothic-inspired video.

While at the Public Hotel in New York’s Lower East Side, Mensa shares that Hooligans is a snapshot of the varied emotions and experiences he has dealt with throughout his life. As a musician, Mensa explains that this project found him more focused on songwriting, differing from his intentions for previous work such as his 2017 album, The Autobiography, and his “wordy” debut EP, Innanetape.

Capturing many aspects of Mensa’s life as both a rebel and a revolutionary, Hooligans begins with the powerful “Dancing In The Streetz,” which opens with former Black Panther captain Wayne Pharr’s words about freedom and survival, and features musician Jesse Rutherford. Listeners will also get a taste of turn-up anthems, such as “Reverse” and “Rowdy” featuring Vic’s Chicago brethren, Lil Herb.

“I often make music with a lot of different sounds, because that's just the way I think,” he explains. “I'm a person who just conversationally goes from string theory to gang-bangin' to Balmain, you know? All at once.”

Additionally, the project fortifies listeners with other attributes often associated with the 25-year-old—openness and raw honesty. “The 1 That Got Away,” accompanied by the legendary Charlie Wilson, and “In Some Trouble” featuring his “brother” Ty Dolla $ign, both focus on romantic relationships of yore. However, “Deserve It” featuring Mr. Hudson is perhaps the most retrospective and personal songs featured on Hooligans.

The latter track, Mensa explains, was created as a call for self-love. He recalls a moment last year where struggled with self-worth and broke down during a moment of weakness due to conflict. However, what pulled him through was a self-affirmation that he hopes can help others.

“I was having this internal struggle between my mind and my heart, and my mind [was] playing tricks on me, telling me ‘I'm a f**k up, I f**k everything up,’ what makes you think you're deserving of love or deserving of anything?'” he says, shaking his head. “But there's a deeper sentiment at my core that feels worth it.”

“I've always struggled with self-worth, ever since I was a kid,” he continues. “Growing up a black boy with a white mother, I think when I was very young, I wondered why I didn't look like her. Since then, just questions of belonging have followed me, and so I made this song as an affirmation for myself and for anybody else who ever wonders if they're worth it or if they deserve it, that yes, I am, and yes, you are. Often times, those gnawing insecurities and doubts are the hardest to express. So many of us feel that way, so I wanted to make that song for all of us.”

Elsewhere on Hooligans, Mensa muses about some of his other personal struggles, especially as they pertain to mental health. “Klonopin,” which appears midway through the EP, is named for the anti-anxiety medication Mensa was prescribed at the age of 17. While many may find the song glorifying the drug, he wanted to make sure to include the reality that comes with drug use, whether it's for health or recreation.

“I always make music that deals with intense personal things in my recent life,” he says. “I had stopped doing drugs before I made my last album, and I had moments where I relapsed back into it when I was extremely suicidal. I don't just say these things because they 'sound cool,' I say it because it's the reality of my experience. People are dealing with PTSD and trauma and have few outlets to really address that, especially young black men. People are on these drugs because they're trying to get away from reality because reality is pain.”

He also notes that he learned about Mac Miller’s death from an accidental drug overdose while penning the second verse of “Klonopin,” which prompted his attempt to tackle the topic of drug use in a more cohesive way.

“As I was writing, I was talking to my homies like, ‘well, what's the honest, responsible way to go about this?’” he explains. “I'm making a song about a drug, and I was just faced with the very real, possible mortality that comes from drugs. I try to really paint a picture of the dark side of that, so it's not just saying ‘I'm doing these drugs, and I love it, I love it, I love it.’ Even in a song that may really may seem on its surface that it's just glorifying drugs, I try to paint a more complete picture.”

Such as his artistic intentionality has grown leaps and bounds, Vic Mensa’s personal endeavors are also indicative of his continued evolution. He’s been putting in work with his foundation, SaveMoneySaveLife, which focuses on aiding Chicago’s youth with beneficial programs and resources needed for survival and sustainable change.

Recently, SMSL held an event aiming to provide domestic violence shelters with feminine products for the winter season, and over the summer, they flipped the script on the infamous “bait trucks” in Chicago (trucks designed to lure potential thieves into stealing) and provided about 15,000 shoes and supplies to citizens of Englewood in Chicago without chaos. This holiday season finds Mensa looking forward to donating the leftover pairs of shoes to all of the young Chicagoans in the Department Of Children and Family Services’ care.

“I got all the sizes for all the kids in DCFS care, all the children without a home of their own really,” he says, flashing a gleaming-white smile. “Every single one. We're gonna be giving them a pair of shoes and a Christmas gift bundle over the holidays.”

Currently, SMSL focuses on a few initiatives: StreetMedics, which aims to provide training on how to address gunshot wounds and other street violence-related injuries, and uniVERSE, which provides students with cross-cultural, interdisciplinary programs.

“When I was [at Standing Rock Reservation protesting the Dakota Access Pipeline], I learned that the connection between black and Native people is so significant,” Mensa says, regarding the underlying goal of uniVERSE. “I'm doing this uniVERSE program to help us understand, and help the youth really understand that the Native American experience is also the black experience, and vice versa. Take the kids out of Chicago, out the hood, take them somewhere they've never been.”

Of course, Mensa has a goal of expanding the reach of his foundation to other parts of the city and maybe someday to other parts of the country. He hopes to help Chicago get their own privatized ambulances and wants to influence full-time mental health professionals and therapists to work in the Chicago school system. Right now, however, the intention is to continue to inspire the youth to get involved.

“I wanna speak to the kids before they get to that point, and make them realize they ain't gotta go that way,” he says of choosing to take the high road in an area riddled with crime and violence. “These things make me realize that I can't forgo taking action to try to impact the youth. I think Chicago has given me a very particular and authentic viewpoint of the world. I started to educate myself and learn about the ways that we've been held down, how they try to keep us in the ghetto, you know? Chicago is instrumental in me having a connection to people.”

However you perceive Vic Mensa, there’s one thing you can’t take away from the Hyde Park Hooligan—he keeps it 100 and is striving to become the change he wants to see, and hopes to help others do the same. These commitments are necessary to him, and through his musical and personal endeavors, his evolution continues to be welcomed.

“Creatively, it's like, I have to express these things,” he explains of his art and civil justice work. “This is who I am, this is how I heal. Money has never really been my main motivation, you know? I'm really motivated by the search for the truth, and I'm motivated by the desire to create things that will impact people and help people. Whenever I think of those things, and I speak those things and remember those things, everything else pales in comparison.”

READ MORE: Vic Mensa Seeks To Be The Champion For Justice

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PJ Morton Talks Grammys, Super Bowl And Finding His Niche

Thank goodness that PJ Morton trusted his gut.

“PJ, you're not mainstream enough / Would you consider us changing some stuff / Like everything about who you are / No offense, we're just trying to make you a star,” Morton sings on “Claustrophobic,” a song from his 2017 album Gumbo. “PJ, you're not quite street enough … can you switch your style up a little more? You can be yourself later, for now we need the radio.”

Whatever advice he got from out-of-touch record execs was nonsense. PJ Morton being himself has served him well: the album that hosted the above lyrics earned him two Grammy nominations for Best R&B Album and Best R&B Song. He took home his first Grammys trophy himself this year with the Grammy for Best Traditional R&B Performance for his “How Deep Is Your Love,” one of three nominations at the 61st Annual Grammy Awards from 2018's Gumbo Unplugged.

Along with the hardware, he also got one of the most memorable experiences of his life. As a member of Maroon 5, he headlined the Super Bowl LIII halftime show in a performance with Travis Scott and Big Boi. His beloved football Saints may have gotten robbed in the weeks leading up to the big game, but New Orleans still has plenty to celebrate with Morton’s recent success.

https://www.instagram.com/p/Btv9CuzBXIh/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

“I felt [the energy] even when we were rehearsing with nobody in there. But then, when you feel that audience in there and you know it’s live, it’s just—to me it started as nervousness a little bit and then it just turned into excitement, knowing that you’re reaching all these people. Really for me, it’s a sentimental moment,” Morton said. “Our manager passed away last year, and I remember, since I’ve been in the band for nine years, the Super Bowl was just something that we were always looking [forward] to. For Jordan [Feldstein] to not be here for this made me reflect a lot on that and reflect on my life as a musician and the things I’ve did that ultimately got me to the biggest gigs a musician could want.”

Rather than celebrate his accomplishments for the rest of the year, Morton is using them as momentum. Weeks after the Super Bowl, he had the Valentine's Day release of  "Say So," a beautiful new duet with JoJo.

VIBE caught up on the phone with PJ Morton prior to the Grammys as he sat in his studio in New Orleans to chat about his nominations, his journey into creating his sound, the Super Bowl halftime performance and New Orleans Saints, and whether black musicians and fans should still care about the ceremony.

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What were you doing when you found out about you were nominated a second time?

It was about 5 a.m. in the morning, I had to wake up, I was on the West Coast and that’s when I found out, but this year, I was more just in shock. I was shocked about [being nominated for] Best R&B Album, I wasn’t necessarily expecting it. I [was nominated for] Best R&B Album last year and…whew, I almost shed a tear last year. This year I was just in shock (laughs). I called my family and shared the news and it was amazing.

At this point in your career, what does the award mean to you?

It still means a lot to me. I’ve yet to win one [until now] as a solo artist or as an artist period. It still means that it was voted by your peers. It’s voted on by the professionals in the music industry so that always means a lot. You definitely want to impress your friends. So this is like impressing your friends, known or unknown, who are amazing artists, musicians, and engineers so it still means a lot to me.

There’s a lot of conversation about the validation of these type of awards when it comes to black music. Which one means the most to you? The validation of the Academy or the people?

Ultimately, I make music for people, whether I win an award or not. Like I said, I was up for two Grammys last year and didn’t win, but it didn’t take away from the impact that I had on the people who've been supporting me and being able to go out on the road and sell out tours, that’ll always mean the most to me. [The Grammy] is like a cherry on top, the award and the validation from them. I make music for the people first.

And a lot of your success reminds me of your song “Claustrophobic,” considering the story behind that song. Do you feel like you’re fitting in nowadays or are people recognizing your individuality more?

I think individuality is being more celebrated in general these days. Before, the big labels and everybody were able to prove to us what was hot and what’s supposed to be the best thing and everything. I think that the way the industry is moving now, people are able to make their own decisions. They don’t have to listen to the radio if they don’t want to or listen to anybody who tells them who to listen to. They can go and create their own playlist and find the artists they love. For me, now I’m able to stand out a little bit more and my fans are able to choose on their own without anybody having to feed it to them. I think that part is being celebrated, who I am in “Claustrophobic” and really fighting to be myself. I think people connected to that more than anything.

What was the real life experience that lead you to create that song?

It was a combination of things, but the last straw was that I had just left Young Money and was looking to go into working on a new record and I took a meeting with a label and the meeting had went so bad. These people didn’t understand me at all. I remember myself kind of checking out of the meeting even before I left. I knew I had to get out of there both figuratively and [literally]. I was ready to just move on and do something else. And that meeting kind of put me on my path to leave Los Angeles and move to New Orleans and really find myself again.

How long did it take you to find your niche all the way? I know you’ve been through some ups and downs with that.

That’s the other side of it. I feel like I’ve been myself the whole time. It’s not like I’ve made some huge transition and made some music that I’ve never made before. I’ve always kind of done it like this. But I think it was more so when I wasn’t making music, when I was trying to make music and couldn’t really get to myself and couldn’t figure out who I was. It’s just more of what I’m talking about in “Claustrophobic,” but any time I’m making music, I feel like I’ve been my authentic self. It was just a matter of making sure I got back to that and gotten back to it fully. And I feel like, for me, it’s always a journey. You live, you evolve, you grow, and I think the art reflects that. I never feel like I’m done learning and growing. I think it was all through the journey that I found my niche, but if you listen to my first album 10 years ago, you still hear the same PJ, you still hear the same instruments so it’s not like I drastically changed or found some new sh*t I didn’t have in the beginning. I’m always perfecting it and growing and evolving.

Let’s go back to the Grammys for a second. In previous years, they’ve gotten many awards wrong when it comes to our music and some would argue that both black artists and fans should no longer care about them or other mainstream award shows. Do you think that they’re relevant at all to black music?

I think black people—so there’s two levels to the Grammys, right? I think the voting usually gets it right because you have small committees who are making sure—and these committees are industry professionals. So, the R&B singers and the R&B producers are the ones who make sure that the right artists, the right songs are in the right category. Even [from] last year to this year, I think the categories are right, the songs are right, whoever I’m up against I think all of that is right. I think sometimes when you get to the general voting where sometimes people who aren’t experts in those categories have to put their vote in when they don’t even know what’s been going on in the streets or what’s been going on in these genres. That’s when sometimes it goes a little left. So, I think they’re relevant. I think the Grammys are relevant. When the Grammys work when they’re designed to work, it’s a beautiful thing. So, I don’t need to be voting in the country category because I’m not listening to country all of the time and I’m not creating country music. But when the country guys are voting for country music, then they’ll get that right. I think that’s what it comes down to, it’s being able to stick to what you know. In that sense, I think they’re relevant for sure.

 

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Much love to everybody that celebrated with me last night!! 🙏🏾⚜️⚜️⚜️ #NEWORLEANSFINEST #GRAMMYS

A post shared by PJ Morton (@pjmorton) on Feb 16, 2019 at 9:40am PST

With this new influx of new R&B and jazz artists, do you think that at this point, both genres are getting the respect they deserve?

I definitely think it’s getting better, it’s growing. I don’t know if it’s getting the full respect that it deserves but it’s going in the right direction. We’re getting more love.

I’m sure you’re familiar with Jennifer Lopez performing the Motown tribute at the ceremony. Who are some legends that you think should get deserve a tribute that might not have had one before on that kind of platform?

That’s a good question. I think sometimes we wait until people die before they get a tribute. I think we’re at the point where probably Anita Baker deserves a tribute. Chaka Khan, maybe. It’s so many people who’s had an impact, I don’t think Al Green has had a tribute [since his BET Awards tribute in 2008] and that’s one of the soundtracks to America.

On your Super Bowl halftime performance, the New Yorker called it an “artless spectacle.” How did you and/or Maroon 5 handle the negative criticism?

I mean, I think the other side of when you play—when you have that many people watching you, at one time, you can’t expect for all of it to be good. What I haven’t heard out of everybody is the critique that they sounded bad (laughs), which is what I wanted to accomplish. I think they had expectations for us to do something other than play our songs. I think what gets you to the Super Bowl is lots of success and we’ve been blessed to have hit songs and successful tours for years and years. Like I said, I’ve been [in Maroon 5] for nine years while the guys have been a band for 20 years and to have success like that and still currently have success with a huge #1 song with “Girls Like You.” I can’t really let a bad critique [bother me]—or really not even bad, all of it just like a regular “it wasn’t great, it wasn’t bad,” that’s what I’ve been hearing.

To have a lot of that success over the years and to make it to the Super Bowl and to allow somebody that gives a “regular” critique to sway me in any way, it just doesn’t do anything to me. I’m happy. I wanted to make sure that we play the music well and that we sounded good and we put on a good show. I’m sorry that we couldn’t (laughs) live up to the expectations like I think we were supposed to do some backflips or something like that or do some other things, but I just wanted to play the music and that was our plan from the beginning and that’s what we did. I’m proud of my bandmates for doing what we do. We’re musicians and we play music and entertain people. That’s what we did.

As we both know, the actual Super Bowl game was terrible. As a New Orleans native, how did you feel about the Saints not making it to Super Bowl?

I was deeply hurt! I was deeply hurt, man! We should have been there. I thought that the call was as obvious as it gets, and I don’t think I’ve seen a worst no call blunder in my life watching sports. It was bittersweet with for the Saints not to be there. They should have been playing and it would have been a more exciting game too. It was disappointing and we should have been there. But at least one New Orleans native made it to the Super Bowl.

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Singing group New Edition (Michael Bivins, Ricky Bell, Ralph Tresvant, Ronnie Devoe and Bobby Brown), poses for photos at the Hyatt Hotel in Chicago, Illinois in JANUARY 1984.
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Music Sermon: The Evolution And Extinction Of Male R&B Groups

Male vocal groups were a mainstay in black music for decades. Whether it’s gospel harmonizers, the lockstep, perfectly blended Motown, or Stax and Philadelphia International sounds; the synth, glossy, dance and pop-infused ‘80s; or the last great decade for R&B groups in the ‘90s, there had always been two or more gathered in the name of multi-part soul harmony. And then – there weren’t.

Music fans were in heavy debate a couple of months ago about the current state of R&B – male R&B artists, specifically - and whether real R&B music exists anymore. (Puffy chimed in with a pretty definitive answer.) The decline of R&B artists has been noted, but R&B groups have been damn near extinct since the early 2000s. Girl groups (do we still call them that in the woke era?) are still on the endangered list and tagged for monitoring by music conservationists whenever a new group emerges, but the guys are feared gone for good. The last year male R&B groups had a presence at the top of Billboard’s Hot R&B/Hip Hop Songs chart – not even a crossover chart, the R&B chart - was 2001, during 112 and Jagged Edge’s last strong album runs (“Where the Party At” peaked at No. 1 on September 15, 2001).

King of R&B pic.twitter.com/DCUCDFjCOY

— Diddy (@Diddy) December 11, 2018

How did such a staple in black music just go away? How did we go from your granddaddy and ‘nem doing doo-wop on the street corner in the ‘60s, to your uncles and ‘nem doing talent shows in the ‘70s and ‘80s, to your cousins and ‘nem singing in school cafeterias and bum-rushing established artists at shows to audition in the ‘90s…to nothing?

To talk about what went wrong, let’s explore R&B groups over time.

THE FOUNDATIONAL GROUPS

I don’t have scientific evidence to support this, but you can trace all R&B back to a handful of artists/acts. Every vocal style, performance aesthetic, production technique, and sound evolved from someone and something that came before. This is especially obvious with groups, because R&B groups are a formula. They’re a musical equation of members, style, presentation and song. You couldn’t just pull four random people off the street – even singing-ass people – and put them in a group. The chemistry had to be right. The voices had to blend well. And there had to be at least one star. This formula was, of course, perfected at Motown – Berry patterned the label after an assembly plant, duh - but ‘60s acts laid blueprints and instructional guides. And ‘60s groups had the best names; The Temptations, The Impressions, The Platters, The Spinners. How did they come up with those joints?

The Temps are the male vocal group template. They’re one of the defining acts of the Motown sound, one of the best-selling male vocal groups of all time, and subjects of the best TV miniseries ever (“Ain’t nobody comin’ to see you, Otis”). The Temptations were tight and precise, with effortless vocals and footwork.

The Miracles championed the smooth, sensitive front-man style. They were the first Motown group to land a No. 1 hit, and the first to start the trend of changing the group’s name to highlight the star. I can name everybody in the Temptations, I can’t name anybody but Smokey Robinson from the Miracles. Smokey was also a quintessential music man, wearing multiple executive and creative hats. He was not only one of Motown’s first artists and first stars, he was also the company vice president and one of its key writers during the formative years.

Sam and Dave may the greatest soul duo of all time, powered by Stax Record’s legendary session band, Booker T. and the M.G.’s, with Black Moses himself, Isaac Hayes, writing and producing. They brought all of the black church into their vocal performances.

THE BANDS

With the emergence of funk in the ‘70s, bands moved to the forefront. A strong frontman was still necessary, but the band was the star. Complex choreography was replaced with high energy production and performance. It was about the jam. By the mid-‘80s, however, the black band was already dwindling. Advances in production were slashing recording costs, time and effort. It’s much easier to throw a producer and an engineer in a couple of studio sessions than travel musicians in, pay for rehearsals and schedule multiple days to record live in the studio. Sadly, this created a cycle. As music production continued to advance, lessening the need for session musicians, fewer new musicians were coming up anyway.

Tuskegee natives The Commodores started as a jazz band (musicianship!), but made their name with the funk. Several members played multiple instruments - for example, Lionel Richie also plays the sax. Shout out to my actual, real-life uncle on drums in this video.

The Isleys get the Male Vocal Group MVP award as the longest running group that managed to stay relevant and chart hits from the ‘60s through the ‘00s (do you know how hard that is?!). I’m going to back up a little: most music fans know the Isleys first as a funk and soul group, but they started as a doo-wop group, and even had a stint on Motown.

Also, there will be no Ernie Isley slander in my earshot, ever. Not never.

The prototype for all young black male groups of four or more members to follow. I don’t even need to say anything else.

First thing’s first, James “J.T.” Taylor is not “Kool.” With that out of that way, Kool & The Gang also started as a jazz band and evolved into funk, then disco, and eventually contemporary R&B. A lesson here is that if you know musical foundations and theory, you can adapt to almost any genre - ask all the producers who grew up playing in the church. Their evolution of sound over the years was such that a lot of folks under 40 still don’t realize that the group behind “Summer Madness” is also behind “Ladies Night” and “Celebration.”

CONTEMPORARY R&B

The biggest problem with the group/band structure since the history of recording groups of any genre is, someone is inevitably identified as the star. Then the balance shifts, and eventually it falls apart. It happened routinely at Motown, and the ‘80s was maybe the most successful era for breakout frontmen. Michael and Jermaine from the Jacksons, Lionel from the Commodores, Smokey from the Miracles (although it took a while), Jeffrey Osborne from LTD, Teddy from The Bluenotes, Babyface from The Deele.

Bands that survived the funk and disco era (like Kool & the Gang and the Isley Brothers), and the new groups on the scene, adapted to the new quiet storm sound taking over R&B in the beginning of the decade.

In the mid-late ‘80s, a new crop of young groups emerged, mixing contemporary R&B sound with classic four and five-man group style and harmony.

The new jack swing sound emerged in the late ‘80s, and tempo, rhythm and 808s make R&B party-ready again.

THE GREATEST DECADE

The ‘90s was the saturation point for Male R&B groups. There were fifty’lem groups. That’s an actual number. You can find lists of the 20 greatest Male R&B groups of the ‘90s. I don’t think I could put together a list of 20 R&B singers. The ’90s was also a massive decade for the expansion and evolution of the R&B genre. New jack swing, hip-hop soul, neo-soul, gospel-infused inspirational R&B. Whatever flavor you wanted was available.

There were classic groups with doo-wop inspired style.

Young, high energy new jacks with choreography for days.

I always say that Troop is the physical embodiment of new jack swing.

There were also groups that were a little more mature in content, what the old heads used to call mannish. (We had no business singing along to "Come Inside" so hard!)

The ‘90s also introduced R&B artists that moved like rappers, complete with combat boots and group chains.

By the ‘90s, commercially successful black bands were basically defunct. There were only two still standing. (For the purposes of this discussion, The Roots are solely hip-hop.)

THE FINAL CLASS

The last class of successful male R&B groups debuted in the mid-late ‘90s, and carried over into the early ‘00s. The shift in the landscape was clear early in the decade. The neo soul movement, while triggering a brief return to live music production, spawned mostly solo stars. And hip-hop was like the new fish you add to your lively aquarium, only to wake up each day and discover it’s eaten another of its fellow tank-mates, until it finally had the tank to itself. R&B songs were rarely sent to radio without a version featuring a rap artist. Contemporary R&B got less mainstream airplay; songs needed to have some bounce. A staccato flow. Something other than standing flat-footed and singing over melody. For the past decade, the lines have become even more blurred between the two genres, leading to the R&B debate mentioned earlier. These bops went out of fashion, but they went out with a bang. Shiny suits and leather, big budget videos, 25 dancers. Sigh…I miss those days. #BringBackVideoBudgets

So, what happened? On the business side, the rise of digital piracy hit the formerly recession-proof music industry unexpectedly, and then it was slow to adapt to digital downloads and streaming, which very quickly upended a long-standing business model. The cost and effort of developing a group, paying for vocal training, choreography, styling and travel, plus dealing with headaches from group dynamics (the term “herding cats” could be changed to “herding recording artists” and still be a perfectly apt analogy) was netting an increasingly diminished return on investment.

On the talent side, infighting between group members has always been a problem; resentment towards whomever was being groomed for solo success, fighting over name ownership, fighting over money, or just getting sick of each other. It’s broken up families: Raphael Saadiq and brother Dwayne Wiggins seemingly don’t rock with each other - or, rather Ray doesn’t rock with Dwayne. (Editor's note: Raphael Saadiq told VIBE why he doesn't see a Tony! Toni! Toné! reunion in the cards.) It’s broken up childhood friendships – the members of New Edition hashed out their differences and reunited for a tour and BET’s The New Edition Story, just to fall right back out and split in two factions, with Ralph and Johnny holding the name New Edition hostage.

The mid-00s featured a big youth culture moment thanks in part to 106th and Park, and black boy bands – like B2K and Mindless Behavior – were central to that. Even with R Kelly’s pen game on “Bump Bump Bump,” however, B2K were bigger at crossover radio than R&B, which was probably the desired result. Puffy tried to restore the feeling with Day 26 in 2008, and they landed a #1 Billboard 200 debut, but had no hit singles.

The shift was even visible in music recognition. From 2003 to 2011, the Grammy for Best R&B Performance by a Duo or Group was awarded to collaborations. Destiny’s Child was the last group to win, for “Survivor” in 2002, but the last male R&B group to take home the trophy was Blackstreet for “No Diggity” in 1998. The recording academy eliminated the category altogether in 2012.

Shout out to Teddy Riley, by the way, for having three successful groups in the ‘90s (even though he can’t perform under the name Blackstreet anymore because Chauncey Black owns it. I told you, messy).

There’s been a nostalgia-driven ‘90s revival in music and culture for the last few years, and R&B groups from the era are having their moments. BET’s The New Edition Story was a ratings bonanza and a generated buzz and marketing moments for over a year. Anniversary pieces about classic R&B records and singles from 20 and 25 years ago seem to hit every other week. DJs who were babies in the ‘90s have added new jack swing and hip-hop soul classics to their sets. The last few male R&B groups to release albums to any fanfare were – wait for it - ’90s R&B groups. Jodeci’s reunion album The Past, The Present, The Future in 2015, and Bell Biv DeVoe’s Three Stripes plus 112’s Q Mike Slim Daron in 2017.

These groups still tour. Hell, you can catch almost every group listed above in some type of iteration. It might just be one original member and three strangers at a supper club, but you gonna get them hits. The audience is there for the classics and the nostalgia, but mainstream labels still aren’t interested in new music from established groups, or sinking the money into developing new talent. It hasn’t made sense, financially, to the powers-that-be. The label mantra for the past decade has been “R&B doesn’t sell.” Ballads or mid-tempos with no rap features and no autotune are usually only programmed on Urban Adult radio, which is a slow-moving format listened to by mostly physical album buyers. And oh, look at that, there’s almost no place to buy physical albums anymore! Digital streaming hit R&B hard. Streaming is a singles and playlist format, R&B is an album game. Brick and mortar record stores have closed (except for specialty shops), and big box stores pull albums from the shelves because CDs don’t sell much. But then they don’t sell because fans can’t find the music. Thankfully there is, finally, a shift back to contemporary, soulful R&B in progress – about a decade later than music cycles usually happen – led by artists like H.E.R and Daniel Caesar. Artists who play instruments! And write songs about love instead of sex! And sell records and win Grammys doing it! But it remains to be seen whether there’s room for the eventual return of the group. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

#MusicSermon is a weekly series by Naima Cochrane that highlights the under-acknowledged and under-appreciated urban artists and sub-genres from the '90s and earlier. The series seeks to tell unknown and/or forgotten stories that connect the dots between current music, culture and the foundations of the past.

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Don Cheadle On The Good Insanity Of 'Black Monday' And Battling Twitter Trolls

Don Cheadle isn’t insane; he just acts like he is, really well, on Showtime’s Black Monday. On the Wall Street dramedy about the 1987 stock market collapse, Cheadle has made fun of the AIDS epidemic and snorted cocaine off of a video game accessory as Maurice “Mo” Monroe, star trader on the show. As offensive as Mo is, Cheadle joined the cast after he “read the pilot, it made me laugh and I thought it was insane...in a good way,” according to the actor speaking with VIBE.

The 54-year-old Grammy-nominated director wasn’t rocking the Jheri curl and polyester threads like his character does in the show when the actual 1987 stock market crash occurred. At that time, he was a broke, struggling actor who admittedly could fit all of his worldly possessions in his car. Black Monday lets Cheadle experience the cocaine binges, robot butlers, and Jheri curl juice he never had in his past. But, fake or not, Cheadle doesn’t want to be on camera saying all of the absurdities Black Monday creators Jordan Cahan and David Caspe think up.

“Jordan and David are always pushing it and it's often up to us to say, 'Yeah, that's a bit too far. If you're going to say the line on camera, that's fine. I'm not going to say that on camera' (Laughs).”

With VIBE, Cheadle recasts Black Monday’s lead roles with rappers, talks smuggling blackness into a show about Wall Street, and why he doesn’t back down from Twitter exchanges with trolls.

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VIBE: What are some things you share with your character Mo?

Don Cheadle: That's a good question. I don't know. I know I'm nowhere near as intense as he is. I'm not as ambitious at all costs as he is. My sense of humor can kind of be on that level. But, never in public. You know how you could go in with your friends and be like, 'Please don't ever tape this' (Laughs).

One of the characteristics you two share is being confrontational. Do you ever worry that your personal opinions on Twitter could affect TV ratings?

Naaaahhhh. I've never had anybody of any position come to me and say, “You're really risking something and you got to knock that off.” No employer has ever said anything to me. There's a lot of bots on there, for one. A lot of people -- presumably people -- that come at me and say stuff like, “You just lost a fan.” I’m just like, “You were never a fan. Let's be real.”

On the show, Mo and Regina Hall’s character, Dawn, are the only prominent Black characters, yet their blackness has yet to be the focal point of an episode since the series’ premiere. Was that intentional and will the show explore blackness in the ‘80s?

It comes up in the second episode when they're in the store. Mo is telling her, “Those white boys will f**k you, they'll date you, but they won't give you a spot.” We want to pepper that stuff in, kind of smuggle it in and not lead with it. That's not something the characters talk about every day. They know who they are, they know what they're dealing with, and it comes in and out of the show. It's not the focal point of the show, which I like. They are black and it is front and center, but it isn't the subject matter.

The second episode has the classic back and forth negotiation scene between you and Dawn. Were there ever scenes where you and Regina couldn't get through it because y'all kept making each other laugh?

We would crack each other up a lot. Both of our desire was to always get it on camera, so we never really lost it during a shot. Maybe once or twice. But, most of the time we would get the take and then we would crack up. I'd always be like, “When you said this line.” She would be like, “When you said this.” We kind of improv a lot on the show and some stuff gets in there. When she said, “Who wants to titty f**k Keith” [in the series premiere], Regina just improv’d that.

So it was all Regina Hall's idea to mount Paul Scheer and thrust in the air as if she was titty f**king him?

Yes, that was her (Laughs).

The third episode starts with the most ‘80s scene we'll probably see on television this year: you snorting coke off of a Nintendo Duck Hunt gun while talking about Michael Jackson and Brooke Shields dating.

(Laughs) Yeah.

Are those moments intentionally put into the show to show that Black Monday is set in the ‘80s?

I think, absolutely, we're trying to juxtapose that time period to now and see the things that remain and the things that change, and see how far we've come in some instances and how far we still have to go. Absolutely, all of that cultural stuff is very fun to play with. We always want to make it a part of the show. We don't want to full out do something that has no bearing on anything just to make fun of the ‘80s.

The music for the show has been great. Knowing what you know about Mo and the ‘80s, what would be his morning playlist before a day of kicking a** on Wall Street?

Oh, he would definitely listen to Run-DMC. I think he's into all of that early hip-hop with [Big Daddy] Kane and LL Cool J. He's deep into that. He probably also listens to some of the stuff that was coming out of Europe at that time. Stuff like the Eurythmics, Annie Lennox, a lot of that stuff. UB40 (Laughs). At one point in the show, he's like, “Don Henley's coming to play. I don't really f**k with his music, but he's number one, so I'm listening to it.” He likes what's popular.

You once said you wanted to cast Kendrick Lamar for the role of Junior in the film Miles Ahead.

Yes.

If you had to cast the roles for Dawn, Mo, Blair, and Keith with rappers, who would they be?

Oh, wow. Who would Dawn be? I think Dawn might be Queen Latifah. I like Dawn as Queen Latifah. I don't think Keith and Blair would be any rappers (laughs). I can't think of any rappers Keith and Blair would be. Not that there aren't some. I mean, they might be 3rd Bass. Who would Mo be? That's a good question. Who do you think Mo would be?

Mo is so out there I was thinking…

Ol’ Dirty Bastard?

Or a really animated Leaders of the New School Busta Rhymes.

Yeah. Definitely, a young Busta Rhymes. Kool G Rap also.

If they're going to be doing as much cocaine as Mo does on the show then it has to be someone from Wu-Tang.

(Laughs) It has to be O.D.B.

I did a little bit of IMDB digging and saw that Kevin Arnold is listed as your stunt double for 5 episodes of the second half of the season. Is Mo about to get crazier in the second half of the season?

No comment (Laughs). Things get crazy.

With a show titled after and centered around an event that it appears will be reached by the season finale, is there any way this show could come back for a second season?

Fingers crossed. I think the jumpoff is Black Monday, and the show is still going to still be about the stock market, Wall Street. That one day was just what started a lot of stuff. Things kept going on from then and are still going on.

Catch 'Black Monday' on Sunday nights at 10p/9c on Showtime.

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