“Maybe this is some kind of mistake,” jokes Arie, who knows that she and her debut, “Acoustic Soul,” were unlikely candidates, even for less lofty categories such as best new artist and record of the year. Though Arie is one of the freshest talents to rise out of 2001, she is not a fave among brooding critics nor a record-label creation aimed at gum-snapping kids. She is a nonconformist who somehow slipped into the mainstream wearing clothes designed by her mother and singing such lyrics as: “Sometimes I shave my legs and sometimes I don’t/Sometimes I comb my hair, sometimes I won’t/Keep your silicon, I prefer my own/What God gave me is just fine.”
The real-girl approach of her single “Video” worked, even in a pop world obsessed with Lil’ Kim and Britney. “Acoustic Soul” sold 1.2 million copies with limited radio play, and even made it into Billboard’s Top Ten. Now hip moms and their 13-year-old daughters are singing the words to “Video” and the new single “Brown Skin.” “When making this album, I learned how to be real bold,” says Arie from a studio in Los Angeles. “It was like, ‘This is how I am. This is what you’re gonna see when you see me.’ Now people say to me, ‘My sister, you feel this way too?’ [laughs] Yes! We can all link arms knowing we don’t have to shave if we don’t want to! Hallelujah!”
Songs of sisterhood aside, Arie opens “Acoustic Soul” with a respectful ode to “ancestors” Sam Cooke, Marvin Gaye and Donny Hathaway. She later name-checks unexpected influences like Karen Carpenter and Stevie Ray Vaughn. And while their collective spirit can be felt throughout the record in simple, catchy melodies and emotive ballads, Arie’s own distinctive voice and lyrics are the heart of this CD. Her voice is smoky, rich and confident, trading R &B acrobatics for comfortable earthy sensuality. The music itself is subtle and smooth–a few hip-hop rhythms here, some vintage soul organ there, even some violin and piano. Lyrically, what could prove corny or even preachy is tempered by Arie’s own humility, goofiness and strong sense of self: “It doesn’t matter what I wear I will always be/The India. Arie.”
Arie’s confidence was nurtured in the free-to-be-you-and-me household she grew up in with her mom–a seamstress by trade, but a clothing designer, singer and actress at heart–and her father, former NBA player Ralph Simpson. They named their daughter India because her due date was on Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday, and gave her the middle name Arie because it was short for her mother’s name, Marie. She inserted the period later “to make it more like a logo people would remember.” Encouraged by her parents to embrace her quirks and eccentricities, Arie sang, played French horn and even majored in jewelry design before dropping out of college to pursue life as a singer. By 21, she was playing coffeehouses and small clubs, and eventually landed a spot on Lilith Fair’s second stage. There she was spotted by an A &R scout who brought her to Motown. She signed with the label in 1998.
“Acoustic Soul” took more than two years to make in order to “get it right.” Arie went from producer to producer in a quest to preserve her own sound. “My worst nightmare was to have an album I didn’t like,” says Arie, who needed someone who could accent, not bury, her spare acoustic melodies. “I was telling producers, ‘That’s not me.’ I ended up looking very tenacious, strong and bold. A risk taker! But that wasn’t it. I just couldn’t imagine my family listening to my album and going, ‘This is not you!’ or my grandma saying, ‘What is India talking about?’ " Be it tenacity or threat of Grandma, her be-true-to-yourself ethos paid off. And now, it may even win her a Grammy or two. Or seven.
