I always thought that Arrested Development’s 1994 album “Zingalamaduni” was an absolute highlight. Now it’s interesting to listen to.

OPINION: Somehow my 15-year-old self missed all the pretense, self-righteousness, moral messages and preaching of one of the blackest albums of all time.

Editor’s Note: The following article is an opinion piece and the views expressed are those of the author. Read more Opinions on the Grio.

Is there an album, movie, or song (or anything else) that you love with all your heart and that other people couldn’t care less about? You know, one of those pieces of music that you think if people just gave it a chance, they would hear and feel exactly what you do? For me, it was Arrested Development’s second studio album, “Zingalamaduni,” released on June 14, 1994.

I was all in on Arrested Development. I still listen to “Tennessee” and get moved when Dionne Farris starts singing at the end. The “People Everyday” remix is ​​still a club banger in the right setting. I may not have been the first person in line to buy “Zingalamaduni” when it came out, but I wasn’t far behind. My taste in music was very different back then. I loved NWA as much as I loved De La Soul. I was 15 and learning to distinguish my actual taste from the things I liked. Regardless, “Zingalamaduni” seemed to check all the boxes my musical soul needed. I loved the production, I loved the lyrics (sigh), and I loved the message because I also believed that we all need to fight the good fight and stop throwing away trash (more sighs).

The first single from the album was “Ease My Mind” and despite what I might say after that sentence, the song is beautiful. For years I told anyone who would listen that they had to listen to “Zingalamaduni.” I subjected unsuspecting passengers in my car to Speech’s stylistic condescension, only at the time I didn’t realize what was happening. I just thought he was spreading knowledge and facts. The thing is, I’ve always been a person who was influenced by great music. Musically, “Zingalamaduni” is a blast, even if it’s not for everyone. And boy, did people say it wasn’t for them; I really don’t know a soul who bought that album other than me. Not a single one. What’s crazy – Arrested Development’s debut album, “3 Years, 5 Months and 2 Days in the Life Of…” was an album that everyone knew. “Tennessee” was a massive hit that topped the pop charts and catapulted the group to superstardom. In 1993, Arrested Development won two Grammys: one for Best New Artist and one for Best Rap Performance by a Duo or Group for “Tennessee.” With such success, you’d think their second album would sell like hotcakes.

And yet.

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It took me a while to understand why that didn’t happen. In 1993, Death Row Records came along and brought everything and everyone down. At the same time, Bad Boy Records was simmering and Wu Tang Clan was completely changing the sound of hip-hop. It’s entirely possible that Arrested Development simply got lost in the wake of several gigantic music movements. But also, the moral message and content could have easily turned off a large portion of people. What seemed revolutionary in 1992 felt like being preached to and berated in 1994. Even listening to this album in 2024, I’m amazed at how much self-righteousness drips from the entire project.

At this point, I still find it remarkable, but even I am completely turned off by the messages scattered throughout and the paternalism that drives the entire project, although I have no doubt that he believes everything he says. Speech is 100% telling the community how to live their lives to realize his belief in freedom, which actually sounds community-minded. However, I can’t imagine most people wanting to listen to albums worth that much, especially because, despite Speech being supremely talented as a producer, the lyrics come across as super simplistic. While simplicity isn’t a crime, it might explain why people dropped out. My 1994 self, however, couldn’t get enough of this album. Even when I got to college in 1997, I expected all the enlightened people around me to like this album. I was wrong. No one was, and when I shared it, people told me to turn it off, and that made me sad.

When I actually listen to it in the year of our Lord 2024, I’ll get it. For years it was one of my favorite albums, but with age, experience, and context, it’s a very different listening experience. I think I just needed some time… to calm my mind. I’ll see for myself.

Panama Jackson is a columnist for theGrio and host of the award-winning podcast “Dear Culture” on theGrio’s Black Podcast Network. He writes very black stuff, drinks a lot of brown liquor, and is pretty cool for a light guy. His biggest hit to date coincides with his blackest hit to date: He got a call from Oprah Winfrey after she read one of his pieces (biggest), but he didn’t answer the phone because the caller ID said “Unknown” (blackest).