By Nadege Nau
June 30, 2018 marked the 20th Anniversary of Embrya, Maxwell’s most daring album to date — an album that he did not take pride in until now.
In 2017 as I stood on line awaiting entry into my first Maxwell concert, two veteran Musze fans assured me that he puts on a great show, but when I mentioned Embrya, I was told, “he doesn’t really perform songs from that album — Embrya is like the redheaded step-child.”
Before damping us with the neo soul hit “Lake by the Ocean,” 20 years ago Maxwell engulfed himself in a wave of undercurrents overwhelming music critics as he dived into afrofuturism. Two years after the release of his critically acclaimed debut album Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite, the then 25 year old took his shortest break. On June 30th 1998 Maxwell delivered Embrya, an aquatic yet ethereal groove experience.
Reminiscent of 70’s funk and soul infused records, Embrya’s predecessor Urban Hang Suite roused a vintage feel dormant in many of his 90s R&B counterparts who favored more electronic instrumentation and promoted transient love affairs. “Lonely’s the Only Company” echoed Sade’s “Bullet Proof Soul” and “All This Love” by Debarge.
Musically, Now resounded the present. On the album cover, the son of Haitian and Puerto Rican parents appears bare — hinting at the albums unadorned and straightforward lyricism. Maxwell broaches everyday themes of love and heartbreak unveiling a more candid soulful approach. Debuting in 2001, Now was his strongest vocal album to date with songs showcasing high quality timbres through his perfectly pitched falsetto. “Lifetime,” “For Lovers Only,” and “This Woman’s Work,” are among tracks on the album that were more relatable to listeners who couldn’t quite absorb Embrya.
Embrya, Maxwell’s play on words, is an ode to the birthing process and the women who raised him. “For me the innate feminine aspect of what creativity means connects to the fact that women can give birth… I think women understand things on a more abstract level than men can sometimes — and because I make music, that’s like my way of being that sort of energy,” revealed Maxwell in an interview with Tavis Smiley.
And once Embrya was born, Maxwell did not relegate his image to the back of its packaging as he did with UHS — “gone is the modesty of not having his mug plastered on the cover of his album,” writes a music blogger. Fine fabrics drape the submerged singer in an underwater oasis. Maxwell’s apparent comfort with his immersion is analogous to his willingness to dig deeper to achieve Embrya’s conceptually layered sound. The 12-song album incorporates an intimidating track listing with conjoined words (sort of like Outcast’s debut album Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik).
Admittedly, if you’re a fan of UHS, “Gestation: Mythos’” sci-fi feel may cause you to be apprehensive to put your feet in the water — musically there isn’t much going on. Fortunately, the subsequent songs enhance sonically.
It tracks appropriately enough as an aquatic journey into the very birthing room of love by opening with Gestation: Mythos. Out of this pregnancy of possibilities, come several songs that vamp till the break of dawn and more than a couple where the band plays on long after Maxwell has stopped singing.
-Greg Tate, Spin Magazine
Between its heavy bass lines and fluttering violins, “Luxury: Cococure” made for a great first single. In its video Maxwell appears free in his playful merrymaking.
Seemingly a fan favorite, “Drowndeep: Hula” is the glue cementing all the tracks together into one cohesive pool. Lyrically Maxwell interchanges drowning deep in “love” with “us,” an endearing comparison. This Maxwell and Stuart Mathewman collaboration resulted in “the sound of mellow soul blended with Hawaiian styles.”
“Matrimony: Maybe You,” the least abstract song, plays up a familiar UHS feel, culminating with Maxwell considering a marriage proposal. Devoid of political undertones, the visuals for “Matrimony” were similar to Janet Jackson’s 1997 apartheid themed video for “Got Til its Gone.” The former showcases black pageantry in a more literal sense with afrocentric women strutting their stuff as they vie for Maxwell’s affection. In both “GTIG” and “Matrimony” Jackson and Maxwell’s presence are downplayed as the importance of everyday people are highlighted via flash photography.
“Know These Things: Shouldn’t You” is a refrain from traditional R&B delivering gloom accented by classical tones. The 8th track on Embrya is Maxwell’s tense admission of anxiety deriving from a special someone truly understanding his essence.
The sophomore album overflows with themes of fluidity and synergetic lovemaking (it just wouldn’t be a Maxwell album without some baby makin’ jams) — detailing profound connections that make sexual endeavors sound like a spiritual pursuit. In “Eachhoureachsecondeachminuteeachday: Of My Life,” Musze vacillates between subtle romantic sentiments to intense seduction as his singing accelerates towards the chorus. It’s arguably sexier than “Til the Cops Come Knocking,” encompassing a more ethereal, arousing effect.
Despite mixed reviews, Embrya is a healthy aural fixation that beckons listeners to conceive their own possibilities. It’s not an album someone can just digest overnight — you’ve got to let it seep into your system. The record is an acquired taste, but once you give it a chance, you’ll discover that his soul secretions brew a melodic elixir capable of taking you elsewhere. Embrya is for those who dare to drown deep in Maxwell’s sensual waves of attraction — “I always found myself drifting blissfully away from reality,” states a reviewer. If by the end of the album you’re not fully immersed, you weren’t trying to get wet in the first place.
Over the course of his music career, the perpetual bachelor vividly encapsulates heartbreak as well as romantic triumphs reigniting what it means to love. But there’s something strikingly different about Embrya. The album’s emphasis on lush analogies deviates from his usual romanticisms, yielding more complex thought- provoking music. Mark Anthony Neal writes “the lyrics to “Fortunate” were a far cry from tracks like Embrya’s “Drowndeep: Hula” (“I’ll wear your liquid kiss and watch as if inside/Dispel the negative as if myth alive”), though the latter is one of the most exquisite R&B ballads of the last decade.”
Neo soul was still relatively new when Maxwell and long time collaborator Stuart Matthewman scored afrofuturism in 1998 via Embrya. Although he completed his debut album first, D’Angelo is credited for ushering in neo soul with his 1996 release of Brown Sugar. But Maxwell’s nonlinear approach with the direction of his first 3 albums allowed him to produce the cutting- edge genre before any of his counterparts.
The abstract album is post Digible Planets’ Reachin’ (A New Refutation of Time and Space), but it predates Erykah Badu’s “Didn’t Cha Know,” Andre 3000’s Love Below, and Cindi Mayweather, Janelle Monae’s android alter ego from the future. To the “Dirty Computer” singer, Mayweather is “very similar to Neo, the Archangel from The Matrix” (certain tracks on Embrya would’ve been a good fit for the Matrix soundtrack). Instead of detailing the ills of society from the perspective of a bionic outsider — “I thought every living thing had love, but uh are we really living or just walking dead now?” sings Monae in “Sincerely Jane” — Maxwell’s formula for afrofuturism veered from misanthropic and automated motifs. With Embrya, Maxwell brought cosmic vibes down to earth (though he does go intergalactic in his video for the sultry single “Eachhoureachsecond-eachminuteeachday: Of my Life,”). His mission has nothing to do with technology, but more so with alleviating a certain deficit. Admitting he’s not the “fight-the-power” kind of guy,” the Brooklyn native’s harmonies are intended for spreading love.
As he came of age and artistry, the “We Never Saw It Coming” singer crooned his way into his own lane distinguishing himself as a vocalist, creatively transcending comparisons to Sade, Marvin Gaye, and D’Angelo. Even with the slated release of NIGHT, Embrya will always compete with his later works in terms of lyricism and sheer creativity. But is Maxwell aware of this?
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You shouldn’t know these things/ And be this awfully well in tune/ Go as if not aware be like those others that assume/ You knew and you still managed to find my stare/ And you shouldn’t know these things about me.
-Maxwell, Know These Things: Shouldn’t You
I didn’t know these things. Being a child when Embrya was released, Maxwell wasn’t quite targeting my age demographic. Once I was a teen I eventually downloaded “Ascension” and I learned the words to “This Woman’s Work.” In the latter Maxwell showcases a shameless vulnerability heightened by a heartfelt performance — yet this wasn’t enough for me to explore his artistry any further than the signature song’s duration. Embrya changed that.
Unlike UHS, the album’s de-emphasis on literal themes diverts your attention away from life’s blues to more positive musings. Embrya’s afrofuturism imparts a liberating quality that prompts the mind to wander elsewhere retreating from the demands of reality. Once you unload the album’s weighty birthing implications, you’ll soon discover that Embrya’s unequivocal lyricism and sonic leaps towards the future make it easier to not dwell in the past (or even the present). Instead, listeners can enjoy Maxwell’s aquatic excursion towards ecstasy.
Fans were probably disappointed when he cancelled the Embrya tour in 1998. As Maxwell played it safe, the lack of Embrya performances might’ve diminished its legacy. And, I can assure you it isn’t just music to my ears, there are plenty of fans that believe the album is noteworthy.
Embrya surpassed marginal success eventually going platinum, but some music journalists regarded Embrya as a pretentious vacuous pool of background music. UHS’s reliance on retro references further exacerbated Embrya’s eccentricities. Apart from the usual sophomore slump, people were expecting UHS part deux not its antithesis.
Embrya presaged the success of alternative R&B artists like Frank Ocean, Miguel, and The Weeknd — so was its initial release too premature for audiences who were just getting into neo soul? “I think [Embrya] would be fine right now,” Stuart Matthewman tells Rated R&B. “There are so many different styles, particularly in R&B, out at the moment.”
As Maxwell revives the overlooked album with its remastered re-release, maybe this means he’s finally reclaiming his musical offspring and truly embracing Embrya.
“I’ve learned that if something is yours, it’s yours,” Maxwell told Billboard in 2001 — there’s no need to run to it or push people out of the way for it. I call it divine timing.”
