By Azzam Bilal 
HangupsMusic.com – New York, the landscape of contemporary jazz and soul has always been defined by the restless spirit of Meshell Ndegeocello, an artist whose career spans over three decades of genre-defying exploration. In her latest creative endeavor, Ndegeocello has turned her focus toward the art of the reinterpretation, announcing a star-studded new duets album titled Synonym. The project’s second single has now arrived, featuring a collaboration that bridges the worlds of experimental soul and indie-rock royalty. Joining forces with the enigmatic Chan Marshall, better known as Cat Power, Ndegeocello has released a transformative cover of The Human League’s 1981 chart-topper, "Don’t You Want Me."
The choice of material is, on its surface, a departure for Ndegeocello, yet the execution is entirely consistent with her reputation for radical sonic deconstruction. While the original version of "Don’t You Want Me" is a cornerstone of the New Romantic era, characterized by its sharp, icy synthesizers and high-drama vocal delivery, Ndegeocello and Marshall have stripped the track of its neon-lit artifice. In its place, they have constructed a version rooted in the deep, rhythmic foundations of dub reggae. This stylistic pivot replaces the driving electronic pulse of the 80s with a cavernous, bass-heavy groove that allows the song’s inherent tension to breathe in a new, more atmospheric space.
The vocal arrangement between the two artists serves as the track’s emotional anchor. Ndegeocello and Marshall trade verses with a measured, almost conversational intimacy, a far cry from the theatrical confrontation found in the Philip Oakey and Susan Ann Sulley original. As the song progresses through the pre-chorus, their voices begin to intertwine, eventually merging into a unified front during the iconic refrain. This vocal chemistry highlights the mutual respect between two performers who have both built careers on their ability to convey profound vulnerability through subtle nuances. By slowing the tempo and emphasizing the rhythmic "space" between the notes, they have transformed a pop anthem about a power struggle into a haunting meditation on memory and desire.
Synonym is shaping up to be one of the most ambitious collaborative projects in recent memory. The album follows Ndegeocello’s critically acclaimed 2023 release, The Omnichord Real Book, which earned her the inaugural Grammy Award for Best Alternative Jazz Album. If that record was a deep dive into her personal and ancestral musical roots, Synonym appears to be a celebration of the artists who inhabit her creative orbit. The guest list for the LP is remarkably diverse, featuring a range of voices that span generations and genres.
The album was first introduced with a reimagining of another 1980s staple: Aretha Franklin and George Michael’s "I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)." For that track, Ndegeocello enlisted the powerhouse vocals of Cynthia Erivo, creating a version that leaned into the soulful gravitas of the composition. The contrast between that R&B-focused debut and the dub-inflected "Don’t You Want Me" suggests that Synonym will be an eclectic journey, unified more by Ndegeocello’s production sensibilities than by any single genre.
The roster of contributors for the full album reads like a "who’s who" of modern musical innovators. Listeners can expect appearances from the legendary Chaka Khan, whose influence on Ndegeocello’s own vocal and bass style is undeniable. At the other end of the sonic spectrum is Bill Callahan, the baritone-voiced folk philosopher whose presence on a duets album alongside R&B icons illustrates the project’s "improbable" but fascinating nature. Other notable participants include the ethereal Anohni, the Americana mainstay Brandi Carlile, and Khruangbin’s bassist Laura Lee, whose minimalist aesthetic likely pairs perfectly with Ndegeocello’s rhythmic sensibilities.
The inclusion of artists like Lianne La Havas, Moses Sumney, and Nick Hakim further emphasizes the album’s focus on contemporary soul and alternative music. Each of these artists shares Ndegeocello’s penchant for pushing the boundaries of traditional song structures. Meanwhile, the presence of Madison Cunningham, a virtuoso guitarist and songwriter, and Robert Glasper, a frequent Ndegeocello collaborator and jazz-hip-hop visionary, ensures that the instrumental craftsmanship of Synonym will be as formidable as its vocal performances.
For Cat Power, this collaboration is a natural extension of her own recent work. Chan Marshall has long been recognized as a master of the cover song, having released three dedicated "Covers" albums throughout her career. Her ability to inhabit the songs of others—from The Velvet Underground to Bob Dylan—and make them sound like her own original compositions has become a hallmark of her artistry. Her recent live recreation of Dylan’s 1966 "Royal Albert Hall" concert further solidified her status as a premier interpreter of the Great American Songbook and its modern successors. In "Don’t You Want Me," her smoky, world-weary tone provides a perfect counterpoint to Ndegeocello’s precise and grounded delivery.
The broader cultural significance of Synonym lies in its focus on the 1980s, a decade often dismissed for its over-the-top production and commercialism, yet one that provided the blueprint for the modern pop era. By selecting songs like those by The Human League and the Franklin/Michael duo, Ndegeocello is not merely engaging in nostalgia. Instead, she is treating these pop artifacts as standards, worthy of the same level of interrogation and re-harmonization that jazz musicians apply to the works of Gershwin or Porter.
In the case of "Don’t You Want Me," the dub reggae treatment is particularly inspired. Dub, as a genre, is built on the concept of the "version"—taking an existing track and stripping it down to its rhythmic skeleton before rebuilding it with echo, reverb, and a focus on the low end. By applying this philosophy to a synth-pop hit, Ndegeocello bridges the gap between Kingston and Sheffield, highlighting the rhythmic possibilities that were always hidden beneath the original’s glossy surface. It is a reminder that a great song is a flexible entity, capable of surviving and thriving in vastly different environments.
As the music industry continues to lean into the trend of high-profile collaborations, Synonym stands out for its curator-led approach. This is not a collection of features designed for streaming algorithms; it is a carefully constructed dialogue between a primary artist and her peers. Ndegeocello has always been a "musician’s musician," an artist whose technical proficiency on the bass is matched by her vision as a composer and producer. On this new album, she assumes the role of an architect, building sonic worlds for her guests to inhabit.
The anticipation for the full release of Synonym is high, particularly as fans wonder how Ndegeocello will handle the remaining tracks and their respective guests. How will the grit of Bill Callahan mesh with her smooth production? What kind of sonic alchemy will occur when she shares a track with Anohni or Moses Sumney? If the first two singles are any indication, the album will be a masterclass in the art of the duet, proving that when two distinct voices meet, the result is often something entirely new and unexpected.
In an era where the boundaries between genres are increasingly porous, Meshell Ndegeocello continues to be a vital guide. Through Synonym, she is not only revisiting the past but also charting a course for the future of collaborative music. By bringing together such a wide array of talent to tackle the hits of the 80s, she is proving that the most enduring songs are those that can be bent, stretched, and reimagined without losing their soul. "Don’t You Want Me," in this new dub-drenched form, is a testament to that enduring power, offering a fresh perspective on a classic that many listeners thought they knew by heart. As the album’s release date approaches, the music world waits to see what other transformations Ndegeocello has in store.
