Contrary to the concept the title might conjure,
The Omnichord Real Book is not another wholly interpretive set from
Meshell Ndegeocello. It's the musician's first album of primarily original material in nearly a decade, appearing nine years after
Comet, Come to Me and following the all-covers
Ventriloquism by five years. Also the musician's
Blue Note debut as a leader, this consolidates an affiliation with the historic label that began with a supporting role on
Robert Glasper's
Black Radio and continued with production and playing on
Jason Moran's
All Rise and
Marcus Strickland's
Nihil Novi. The album takes its name from the Autoharp-inspired instrument manufactured in the early '80s as well as a widely published volume of lead sheets for jazz standards -- a copy of which
Ndegeocello received from her father and rediscovered while going through her late parents' belongings. The Omnichord is heard on only three songs, all of which are powered in part by its amiably knocking programmed rhythms and dainty synthesized strings. More consequential is the squad of over two dozen instrumentalists and vocalists lending a plenitude of supple rhythmic and ruminative vocal interplay. It features long-standing partners such as guitarist
Chris Bruce and keyboardist
Jebin Bruni, and recent or new collaborators like guitarist
Jeff Parker, whose spiraling guitar solos are on crucial back-to-back songs, and
Josh Johnson, who adds winding and tender saxophone on twice as many numbers and produces the whole thing. Even though it was created by enough people to fill a starship, including
the HawtPlates, a vocal group present throughout and granted the spotlight on a moving a cappella piece, this is as intimate as any of
Ndegeocello's previous albums. It's almost as varied as any of them in sound, naturally veering from sheer folk-soul to grimace-inducing funk to charging Afrobeat. Almost every song is informed by a kind of heartache with prevailing feelings of disorientation, regret, and grief.
Ndegeocello always owns it, whether she says "Pain colors everything I touch" with her chest or laments her "extraordinary pain," maybe with a nod to
Songs in the Key of Life. There's respite in "Virgo," a nine-minute funk marvel that vibrates and glistens with
Ndegeocello's key bass and
Bruce's bassline interfacing beneath
Brandee Younger's harp. (This is distinct from the like-titled song on
The World Has Made Me the Man of My Dreams.) Then again, it's not quite rapturous, either, with
Ndegeocello briefly weaving into the astral homecoming theme a sense of anticipation: "The warmth of your embraceâ?¦I long for." An alternate version of "Virgo" arranged by
Oliver Lake is fruit at the bottom. ~ Andy Kellman