Nu soul | When theory becomes reality.
Some things you can’t replicate. The slightest, shortest of moments are sometimes forever — perfectly timed and perfectly executed. You can say the same about soulful amalgamation, as is the case with Groove Theory.

Before Solange and even before Goapele, there was Amel Larrieux. Afar from her gem and spirituality emitted through her vocals, thematically she consistently lays into comfortable territory. She speaks of love’s sweetness and hope, embedding her creativity and pleasant style of lyricism unto naturally buoying beats. She stirs but she restores, as is the case with her debut recording “Tell Me.” Her solo career heavily strikes, too, a la “For Real” and her debut solitary LP Infinite Possibilities. The virtuous body presented by “Tell Me” is an unequaled force, however, and forgotten is her eruditely-driven partner-in-crime — Bryce Wilson.
No building is strong without a smart architect, as is the case with Wilson. Wilson paired up originally with Larrieux in ’91, beginning their journey together to push a refined sense of soul to the genre. Wilson’s career came out of the gate in 1989 when he joined forces with the computer-kissed styles of Mantronix, whose approach is a slice of the Soul Sonic Force — 100% electro ‘80s New York rap. Their sound — on numbers like “Bassline” and “Needle To The Groove” — pushed street rap toward vocoder-driven digitality that put rhythm composers to work.
Although Wilson didn’t tag himself to their J Dilla-defining cut “King of the Beats,” he contributed to the same culture that the drum commanded track derived from. He helped pen the ’89 dance hit “Got To Have Your Love,” a jam of Soul II Soul-like proportions for Mantronix’ album This Should Move Ya. It was a start that eventually sparked Wilson into a music-verse that would land him in great company, landing a vocal presence with the audio angel Larrieux to form Groove Theory.
In 1995, musical tides were rolling to different shores. Eazy-E passes on, Selena hits #1 in the U.S. and later is tragically killed, Pac is free from prison but with a numbered time on earth. In R&B, the groundwork for neo-soul is in its infant stages. D’Angelo’s debut Brown Sugar drops in July but its not until Theory’s first single — “Tell Me” — that the ball really starts rolling for the sub-genre. Just as Larrieux’s glows like a reflective sea in the song’s video as she freshly braces the track, the elements of Mary Jane Girls “All Night Long” play around a clean reworking of soul crafted exclusively for the days of large phones and VCRs.
“Tell Me” jumped to the top tier of the Billboard charts soon after and the rest is history. Theory spawned their self-titled album to accompany the hit single and it proved (at the time) they wanted to distance themselves from the ‘one-hit wonder’ depths of music.

The project begins somberly but with the same content kick of “Tell Me” to accompany Larrieux. On “10 Minute High,” Larrieux tells the story of a teenage girl struggling with drug addiction —strongly clearing space for story-telling while floating through a ride of satisfying ooo’s. The singer asks listeners what would happen to the teenager, who she reveals to have passed away, if she were to have known “wrong from right.” The formula of cozy soul seems to stick and in this case, with Larrieux and Wilson treading an adroit route of well-toned R&B, it works. It’s a bold leap to start a debut but it’s what makes Theory’s blend so sincere.
The bass-heavy road trip and smart fades from “10 Minute High” meet up with the album’s next track, “Time Flies” — a reminiscently-minded cut with layers of echoing signals sprinkled on a cool chorus. The nostalgia Larrieux touches on in the song marks it a fruitful approach to innocent love but with a look toward moving on from the past and bettering from it. Think the callow passion of Tevin Campbell on his single “Can We Talk” but with much more maturity. The track leads to the wooing of an extraterrestrial-like, roughly drummed cut “Ride.” It runs just as the track title suggests, with a fantasized approach to the ride portion of Larrieux’s sweet, sweet trip (“I wonder, can we go for a ride?). It’s not bluntly sensual but just the right amount which tickles the heart, mind and ears.
On “Come Home,” Larrieux cares. At it’s core, that’s what this album is about — the singer cares no matter what the case is on the album, listeners feel less consumptive with Groove Theory and more listened to if anything. Penned from a street-themed perspective, she asks her lover to leave behind their life to spend time with her. No matter their wealth or the struggle for power in her lover’s life, she recognizes that she not only almost fell victim to the same lifestyle but she has an eye on the struggle & loves this individual aside from any hurt they experience in their lives.
“The singer cares no matter what the case is on the album, listeners feel less consumptive with Groove Theory and more listened to if anything.”
As the album reaches its mid-point, Groove Theory pushes delight and love, at times through technological yet teenage-ish means. The chorus is crush-happy love in a nutshell on “Baby Luv,” as the singer cruises over a prosperously plucked beat. “Gentle as raindrops falling in June,” Larrieux poetically phrases on the song, “pretty as sunshine and flowers in bloom.” The vibe is later pushed when “Hey U” makes its mark on the LP, a cut that would make almost any fan of funk-jazz collective The Internet filled with joy. Starting with the ring of a phone, the listener picks up after a second ring. Larrieux is through with her lover, too, and she makes it clear by ending things with a range of vocals from high to low. By singing so, she constructs a stairwell of explanations for her loss, over an acoustic pond of contemplative drums. It’s a height of chic soul for the group, one which swells of radness and realness.
“Hello It’s Me” plays a similar flute of notice but on a different side of the spectrum, this time through an Isley Brothers’ re-make. Larrieux asks a “boy” (an addition to the chorus when compared to its original) to not change, over a more refined instrumental that herds in Wilson’s drums. Although the album never won a Grammy, the two certainly properly represented their sound in an acclaimed fashion. They incorporate the past and steer it toward accessibility to a younger audience — all without washing any accomplishments of the past down.
As the project rolls onward, both the talents of Amel and Bryce reach higher regions. “Good 2 Me” again exhibits active acoustics, tender crooning and green drums — naturalness is the fuel for any track from beginning to end on Groove Theory. Whereas Larrieux asks to be “lifted off the ground” on “Good 2 Me,” she ascends just as she requests on the appropriately-labeled cut “Angel.” Pianos run the bases here but, more importantly, Larrieux prominently paints herself as wise. She drops down to earth, playing with the young love trope that runs thick throughout but she uses it to give herself celestial power over the boy who falls for her.
“Active acoustics, tender crooning and green drums — naturalness is the fuel for any track from beginning to end on Groove Theory.”
“Keep Tryin’” follows, the album’s second single. Although it didn’t have likewise commercial success to the album’s first single(“Tell Me”), the song nonetheless sports itself in a similar favorable fashion. Uplift is the key on the track and it runs, with a slow dancing bass-line & positive lyricism. Amel sings to her daughter, Sky Larrieux, on the track but the song’s message is consumable for all. “Lift your head to the sky and keep trying,” she croons, “believe in you, and it will take you higher.”
Groove Theory’s message bumps on as things come to a close but with more jazz & experimentation. A gloss of keys and breaks spill over Larrieux’s heavenly voice on “You’re Not The 1,” a stripped-away New Jack Swing song that has a taste of vibraphonic sounds. “Didja Know” carries an off-the-tracks approach, as well, with vocal builds and spaced construction-esque noise. Larrieux oils over the beat like butter, fluttering around the instrumental with ease as she artfully scatters herself toward the song’s conclusion.
The album is a wrap after “Boy at The Window” and it touches on earlier social themes. “One more forgotten son” sits in a window and looks for guidance from his neighborhood, as Amel — an omniscient narrator — sings. The boy eventually reaches out to the corner block he sees everyday and becomes another “number” — ending up looking out of a window riddled with iron bars. It matches well with “Come Home” and Amel proves her gentle-yet-powerful songwriting ability here — she comes off as a healer and does so with soul. Whether through fervent tones or deepened poetry, she and Wilson can accomplish an array of musical tasks. It’s all a recorded testament to Groove Theory as a duo, as an album and as a reality.

No more is the pair and even after a shelved album with 2000’s The Answer, Groove Theory’s effect on R&B seems to have still survived. The living and breathing evidence of neo-soul carries on today in acts like Daniel Caesar and Jorja Smith who provide wholesome instruments & pristine vocals in their records. If Groove Theory accomplished one thing, it was certainly leaving the contemporary R&B scene with a choice —construct substantial soul drenched in class or create dull audio pieces limited by time & trendiness. Instrumentally clear as crystal and vocally profound, Amel and Bryce may never get back together but they never missed a step while they were at it.
Or in this case, they never missed a groove.
