Nikka CostaEverybody Got Their Something
She's a star in waiting. At least she should be. Blessed with a lusty voice, formidable songwriting chops and a style that's about equal parts funk and rock (with blues, R&B and singer/songwriter fare spliced in), Nikka Costa should find a home on a variety of radio and video formats. She should. The fickle music biz has a way of letting promising artists slip through the cracks unless they fit snugly into categorical boxes, so in that regard she's vulnerable. But that's not our concern here. That Everybody Got Their Something is an invigorating debut by an artist with a clear artistic vision and loads of sexy swagger is the point. And Nikka Costa proves that point throughout this 10-song set.
The disc opens with a tried-and-true riff over a mid-tempo funk groove. Costa enters "Like a Feather" cooing, her voice muffled with effects. The song creeps along all sultry, sounding like Chaka Khan wearing a dog collar. The grinding synths on the chorus punctuate a sense of subersiveness that courses through the disc. On the ensuing "So Have I For You," Costa's voice is set free, pushing the soul-rock ballad to epic heights. She shows yet another side on "Nothing," a torchy tune worthy of Bonnie Raitt or Shelby Lynne.
The disc's production is a seductive melange of programming and organics. Synth squiggles consort with Rhodes piano, melancholy cello dances around stately piano, muted horn sections and gutbucket backing vocals crop up — sonic surprises.
Nikka Costa is not a finished product. She closes with three like-sounding slow tunes, so the disc kind of peters to an end. On "Hope if Felt Good," a ballsy funk-rocker, she and her producers pile it on till it spills over the top. Between the banshee wails, moans, exhortations and melisma, Costa makes Patti LaBelle sound like Lou Reed. But that's just the maturation process at work.
Here's to hoping that tough-to-define Nikka Costa makes it, just like Prince and Lenny Kravitz and Macy Gray and elite others before her. (Virgin)
—Eric Snider
Missy Misdemeanor ElliotMiss E
Ms. Misdemeanor's third solo LP effectively resumes with what's worked for her in the past, chiefly electro-funk soundscapes produced by Timbaland and a staccato delivery that ranges from lisped speech to flat singing. Ten of the album's 16 tracks showcase star cameos, the most curious collaboration being with Jay-Z on a remix of "One Minute Man," a pointed denouncement of men who lack staying power. The lesser songs on Miss E are attempts at pop-soul vocals, undone by poor metaphor and unconvincing sultriness. The total product, thinly veiled drug references and all, is catchy, but not quite … addictive. (Elektra)
—Cooper Cruz
This article appears in Jun 7-13, 2001.