Imani Coppola
Chupacabra

THE REVIEW

Rather than going on and on once again about Led Zeppelin, REM, U2, Genesis, Iron Maiden, or even “my” Queen, there's a far better way to exploit the potential of a site like DeBaser: tell stories that few remember, talk about artists who maybe had a brief commercial success but, despite their skills, talent, and personality, never managed to emerge from anonymity; Imani Coppola, a New Yorker of Afro-Italian-American descent, falls into this category of artists particularly dear to me and had the merit of introducing me to a musical universe that I had never explored before, which I had always seen as something distant from my horizons. Well yes, I candidly admit, at least for now, I am a clueless neophyte when it comes to hip-hop and its derivatives, but I will still try my best to talk about this album and this intriguing and original songwriter.

Born into a family of musicians but without financial means, the fascinating Imani showed great musical inclinations from an early age and, by a stroke of luck, some of her demo tapes ended up in the hands of Mike Mangini, currently the drummer of Dream Theater, who secured her a recording contract with Columbia Records at just nineteen years old, in 1997. Thus, Imani Coppola presents herself on the music scene, far from any cliché that might be associated with hip-hop: laid back, calm, with that sly smile of someone who knows it all, a hairstyle to say the least creative, and an ironic and nonsense title, “Chupacabra”. Mangini, a drummer usually engaged in rock and metal fields, accompanies her in this adventure as a producer as well, and his expertise proves decisive in supporting Imani’s compositional flair. The fact that an American teenager might have composed such an album, in years where most of her peers were eager to join girl bands and Disney-sponsored talent shows, is already impressive: fresh and intriguing melodies, full of vitality and irony, interpreted by a spirited and enticing voice. The intelligence and personality of this girl are evident from her first single and only radio hit, “Legend Of A Cowgirl”, where she samples the base of Donovan's “Sunshine Superman”: yes, Donovan himself, a connection between two artists with great elective affinities: both never rigid, playful and eclectic, two extraordinary talents who never took themselves too seriously and made nonchalance their additional asset.

Mike Mangini's drumming provides that essential rhythmic backbone for hip-hop, while never intrusive synthesizers and acoustic guitars draw appealing melodic textures, more folk-oriented than a funk/R'n'B as one might logically expect. In “I’m A Tree” Imani claims her identity, acknowledges being an anomaly, a tree born in the city, and she quite likes it, her hip-hop is exquisitely feminine, colorful, and coquettish just enough, a bit hippie if you will: from the very first listen one finds themselves nodding to the light rhythms of “Pigeon Penelope” and “Soon (I Like It)”, enjoying catchy and elegantly poppish refrains, including that of “Karma In The Blizzard” which seems to quote, in my opinion not at all accidentally, Nina Hagen's “Spirit In The Sky”. The bossanova rhythms of “Naked City (Love To See U Shine)” and samba of “It’s All About Me, Me And Me”, showcase a fresh and spontaneous sensuality, “Piece” revisits the psychedelic aura enveloping the entire album in a more shaded and pleasantly disorienting key, “Forget Myself” and especially “One Of These Days” add a touch of velvety elegance between jazz and soul, which culminates in the flamenco languor of the suave, intense, and passionate concluding ballad “La Da Da”, a song that's a bit like dark chocolate, somewhat bitter but with a rich, intense taste full of nuances. To not miss anything, Imani also includes a ghost track, “My Day”, an eccentric and theatrical psychedelic pastiche that once again demonstrates uncommon eclecticism and creativity.

The citation of “Legend Of A Cowgirl” seems anything but accidental, anyone who knows and appreciates Donovan from the late '60s, the one of “Mellow Yellow”, “The Hurdy Gurdy Man” and “Barabajagal”, cannot help but love and appreciate Imani Coppola and “Chupacabra” in particular, a disc with a thousand shades, full of influences and sonic refinements serving an alternative, forward-thinking, innovative, and intelligent pop: hip-hop mind, hippie heart, black soul, folk elegance, and youthful freshness for an adorable album, the debut of an artist who will pay for her nonconformity and frankness with a swift expulsion from the gilded cage of the major, eventually landing in the following years in a more underground dimension more suited to her artistic and creative needs.