photo by Edith Williams, of Diamond Digital Portraits
Ear Candy is a monthly listening party that features some of the best indie soul artists in the nation. Last month’s Ear Candy featured Marcell & The Truth, above, and Maimouna Youssef. Your Baltimore Performing Arts Examiner got a chance to chit chat with both acts. Eavesdrop on her conversation with Marcell & The Truth, below; and Maimouna Youssef, here.
What are some of the challenges with being a part of a band?
That’s always been the confusion. Marcell & The Truth has always been just me. That’s why the third album coming out in about a year will be called Marcell Russell. Marcell & The Truth is a name that the street picked. Promoters would say ‘Here comes Marcell and his truth.’ Marcell & The Truth stuck, and I starting putting the band in [album cover art] because they’ve been so loyal.
You have events lined up to October, which is phenomenal for an indie artist. What do you attribute to your success?
My parents, God, and discipline. Growing up in the inner city. I grew up around a lot brothers who have the spirit of entitlement. I think it’s very common in black churches to preach entitlement: “God is going to hook you up.” My father has always tried to beat that out of me. If it’s meant to be, it’s up to me.
For 12 years, I was my own manger, my own promoter. I took myself to Whales, to Chicago to New York. I organized all the gigs. I wrote the songs. I write about 82-100 songs a year. And I had a day job working 9 to 5. I was a sales rep.
Everybody in my band had to have a job because I felt that it was important for your family to eat. I couldn’t stand when artists would make their spouses and their loved ones struggle because they have a dream. I just think that’s really selfish.
I attribute a lot [my success] to my parents and just the vision to restore men. I write for men, and half of my audience is usually half women, half men, and I get a lot of write ups about that around the world. A lot of men don’t talk and express themselves. And a lot of the commercials and promotions are geared towards women. As a salesman I was trained by some of the best to only manipulate the women and that really bothered me. Their only research was on the makeup of the woman. In Nehemiah, [the Bible] says I want the men to come in and worship first because they wanted their hearts soft and their minds clear. Right now in the church it’s the opposite. It’s about 80-90 percent women. Men are at home angry about what’s being taught. Women have two men guiding them: their husband and their pastor, and it’s usually two different messages. I really try to reach out to the men and hopefully inspire them
Do you find that you draw in a lot of male fans?
Absolutely. When I went to Chicago, the promoter freaked out. She said ‘I have never seen this many men come to see a R&B singer.’ We just performed at The Senator [Theatre in Baltimore] in February, two days after the worst storm eligibly Baltimore has ever had. All the shows were cancelled. It freaked everybody out that 800 plus people drove in one lane on York Road with no parking. I walked out on stage and cried. They were chanting. Half of that audience was men, and they brought their wives and girlfriends. It’s always been humble.
Talk to me a bit about your writing process?
I write with whoever is around. I work with a teardrop. I write 80-100 songs a year. I write a lot. The process is whoever is around. I really just try to be in tune with God and my gift and craft.
I have a musical background. My mother is a professor at Morgan State and she’s a pastor. My father is a pastor. My grandfather was a pastor and used to play the washboard. I grew up in this country little family where everything was organically played. My dad played drums. All my uncles were in a band of 15 pieces and it was nothing but family. And I’m 6 and 7 and I’m watching that. And you had to pay your dues just to be able to play bongos. So, seeing that excellence helped me. But then I went to college and studied music. And when I first came they were like ‘Dude you sound like Donny Hathaway,’ and I’m like ‘Really who’s she?’ I would carry a drum, sit in a corner and sing and play. I attribute my sound my tone to Marvin Winans. To me he revolutionized R&B music. You wouldn’t know who BoyzIIMen is, Take 6, Joe . . . and I can just go on with the R&B guys . . . Avant, Trey Songz. R. Kelly. That’s really professionally who I get my sound from.
You are currently promoting your Symbols album; are you working on a new album?
My goal is to do 10 albums before I even think about sitting down. We’re doing a dance album with Teddy Douglas. But the new album is going to be out in about a year. A double CD. It’s going to called The Serenade and The Sermon.
Is that literal? Like The Serenade is soul and The Sermon is gospel?
No, it’s all soul. I try to write like String. Sting says a real songwriter should get harder every album. It should get more naked like an onion. Sade said you should almost be bipolar. She says ‘When I’m writing a song, I’m at a really bad place physiologically if I’m really looking at myself.’
Symbols scared the life out of me. This new album, I’ve cried. I’ve sweated for no reason in the car just talking about stuff inside myself and other people.
How do you get to the place where you can dig that deep?
As a man I get up usually 5:30 in the morning and go on a prayer walk. I do that for my own heart. And ask God what do you want me to say to the people? Cause gospel music ain’t talking about gospel. Gospel music is talking about finances, tithes, sex, power, religion, racism.
In 7th grade I was complaining, I said ‘Mommy, how is it that on Sunday yah’ll talk about all these topics in your sermon, but when we play gospel music they just say God is good?’ She said, ‘Well, why won’t you do it?’
Before I let you go, talk to me briefly about You Saved Me the documentary. Did the song that sparked the film correlate at all?
I wrote the song [“You Saved Me”] and went to Lamar [Tyler]’s film and gave him a free CD. He called me a week later with his wife on the phone and he said ‘We’re getting ready to make a movie out of this song.’ He says ‘This is the epitome of what black marriage should be.’
Did the film take on a new meaning; a different interpretation of you initially intended the song to be about?
I wrote the song about my first love when I was 19. My first love had just come back. I didn’t marry her because I was in the church, and they didn’t want marriage outside of the church. I married my ex-wife. She’s Miss Pittsburgh. We were both in the ministry. One day I said, ‘I don’t think you love me.’ Two days later she said ‘I don’t love you. I was never attracted. I just thought you were amazing. I would tell you whatever you wanted to hear, and I wanted to be in the ministry. I wanted power.’ (We had a house and three cars at the time.) And that was the end of that. I got divorced.
[My first love] came back last February. And she spent time with me. She was going through a divorce. She’s always been the level headed one. She’ll be here tonight. The song came from a real place.
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