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Velvet on a black background. And the devil's halo. Meshell is like that. She digs ever deeper, because you have to earn those glimpses of light with her. Her music is suffering. A purely masochistic pleasure. A fierce and tearing embrace.
Meshell; having her will leave you only scratches. Know that.
More and more inaccessible and distant, Meshell. You have to chase her. Jazz, Fusion, Funk, Rock... the light fades ever more. The times of Plantation Lullaby (1993) are really too bright. It's better at the bottom of the well, at the bottom of the well there is true music. There is the devil.
I already see you, with your chin held high and a bass in hand, intoning luciferian choruses. And plenty of smoke. Listening to the macabre dance of "Love You Down" with the pounding bass drum straight into the rotten core of the human heart and that voice never so warm and enveloping in the dark depths serving as a counterpoint.
Meshell, I love you. But you make me bleed too much. How much longer will you make me pay for an orgasm! I need you. Come here. Come to the devil.
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