Alicia Olatuja Has Faith in Her Voice

Interview, News, From the Magazine, Alicia Olatuja

By Samantha Willis I Feb. 5, 2019

Like so many singers before her, Alicia Olatuja’s talent was shaped in the sanctuary.
(Photo: Steven Sussman)

“Alicia deserves a wider audience,” Kenyatta said. “And I think a wider audience deserves Alicia, too. At the same time, I was thinking a lot about women composers, and how important women are to music in general.” He brought an idea—an album spotlighting the musical labors of female composers, arrangers and artists—to Olatuja, who talked it over with Owens. The project aligned closely with Olatuja’s own vision for her work, and added her voice to the surge of women engaging in what seems to be a historical inflection point: “You can speak through dance, you can speak through paintings; I choose to speak, and be part of this movement of being heard, through music,” she said.

Intuition both reflects and contributes to the public discourse prompted by the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements, as well as the record number of women running for political office.

“Usually when people ... are talking about ‘a woman’s intuition,’ they mean this gut instinct that surpasses the intellect. And, yes, a woman’s intuition is undeniable. But we also are intellectual beings who function from an emotional place, but also from an incredibly intellectual place,” the vocalist said. “You hear that in these songs, you hear it in the lyrics, you see it represented in the different women artists.”

Sade’s 1992 soul single, “No Ordinary Love,” is given a wholly new life through Olatuja’s voice and keyboardist Jon Cowherd’s arrangement. And when Olatuja croons, “I keep trying, I keep crying for you,” the emotional yearning is nearly palpable; in her voice can be heard a woman equally enraptured and tormented by her lover.

Billy Childs’ arrangement and flowing piano melody layer with Olatuja’s warm vocals, evoking the lighter side of love on another of the album’s offerings, a reimagining of Brenda Russell’s “So Good, So Right.” Owens provides percussion throughout, in addition to his role as co-producer, and a host of dynamic musicians—including guitarist David Rosenthal, bassist Ben Williams and tenor saxophonist Dayna Stephens—create a deeply felt musical experience. But the point is the message: discovering what well-known artists’ lesser-known tunes communicated to listeners then, and what they have to say now.

“We all know Joni Mitchell and so many of us know a lot of her tunes,” Olatuja said. “But the tune I did of hers on this album is ‘Cherokee Louise,’ which I noticed a lot of people didn’t know.” The song’s lyrics serve as a narration, a dark story told by a friend of the track’s namesake character, as Mitchell’s lyrics depict the violence and trauma of the girl’s sexual abuse in graphic detail: “She runs home to her foster dad/ He opens up a zipper/ And he yanks her to her knees ... .”

Olatuja initially found such stark phrasing and imagery uncomfortable; eventually, that sense of unease pushed her to record the song.

“If we can’t put a voice to the things that are shameful or uncomfortable, then we will never get into a place where we can overcome these things and actually fight against them effectively—if we choose to be silent because we’re uncomfortable,” she said.

Commenting on how they handled the heavy content, Kenyatta said, “Alicia understands bigger issues. We have some [songs] dealing with racial issues, then a song dealing with abuse. So, it’s not just fluff; it’s matters of the heart and mind, matters that should be important to all of us.”

Months after wrapping the album, Olatuja signed with Resilience Music Alliance, a label founded in 2017 by activist Steve Ruchefsky and vocalist Rondi Charleston. The company describes itself online as “a label that transcends genre and focuses on empowering artists exploring our collective elemental condition of resilience while conceptualizing projects that resonate with the human spirit.” Any artistic risk posed by partnering with such a recently formed entity is mitigated by the label’s clear values, which are similar to her own, Olatuja said.

As her artistry evolves, Olatuja’s identity—as a woman, as an African American, as a musician—will continue to inform her music, she said. Musicians and vocalists of color who seek to expand their musical spheres beyond the expected—namely, soul, r&b and gospel—might not see themselves represented in genres where they feel a natural kinship.

“Growing up, I did not see a lot of little black girls singing opera music. But I felt like, because of my experiences, and the range of music that had already been downloaded in me at home, I brought something different to opera. That was my approach. Be the change you want to see.”

When she isn’t touring, Olatuja is a voice instructor, giving private lessons to aspiring singers. She said she tells her students, who represent the next generation of diverse artists, to use their unique backgrounds as “the sofrito to whatever it is you’re singing. That’s your seasoning, that’s what makes what you’re doing yours. Music is not made for a particular race; music is made for the human spirit and the human soul.” DB