By Michael A. Gonzales

A few weeks ago, at a private party in New York City celebrating Dru Hill’s upcoming fourth album, InDRUpendence Day (Kedar Entertainment), I thought about the first time I saw these four talented men perform together. It was 1996 at a promotional concert during the then-annual VIBE Music Seminar in Manhattan. Although I had heard their debut single “Tell Me” all over the radio, I dismissed Dru Hill as some new jacks swiping Jodeci’s style.

However, when they bounded onstage at the World Financial Center’s Winter Garden, full of soulful energy and youthful abandon, I was awed. Consisting of Baltimore natives Mark “Sisqo” Andrews, Tamir “Nokio” Ruffen, who founded the group, Larry “Jazz” Anthony and James “Woody” Green, they were all still teenagers. Flexing on stage like the second coming of the classic singing groups our mamas once swooned over in the ’60s and  ’70s, Dru Hill was the truth.

While sharp-dressed cats with names like the Temptations, the Four Tops, the Miracles, Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes, and the Chi-Lites were obvious inspirations, the stellar quartet put their personal spin on the soul group template.

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“Those were the groups we grew up admiring,” says Nokio. “Yet, at the time, our competition was groups like Jodeci and Boyz II Men—and they were no joke either.” That night in 1996, entertaining an audience full of the sort of music industry folks who were notorious for talking and jiving during new artist performances, folks stopped flapping their lips and watched as Dru Hill put it down. Their 1996 self-titled debut, which included hits “Never Make a Promise” and “In My Bed” went double platinum and propelled them to stardom.

Producer Darryl Pearson, who also hails from Baltimore, recalls, “On the track that I produced, ‘So Special,’ I was trying to give the music an old-school sound that compared to what groups like the Dramatics or the Spinners had done.” Currently in the studio with Drake and his old friend Timbaland, Pearson has also worked with Usher and Justin Timberlake. “I was using vintage guitars and synthesizers that I had bought when I was working with [Jodeci producer] DeVante Swing.”

Having first worked with Jodeci, beginning with their 1993 sophomore project Diary of a Mad Band (1993), Pearson remembers that lead singer K-Ci Hailey was pissed when he heard Dru Hill. “I told him, ‘Man, Sisqo admires you guys, the whole group does.’ Then I told him, ‘Man, you sound like Bobby Womack anyway and he’s not mad at you.’ Really, there’s nothing new under the sun.” Such is the reality that gave birth to Generation Soul: Great music never dies, it just changes form.

“I can’t lie,” Sisqo confesses with a laugh. “I was trying to sound like K-Ci. Besides, Boyz II Men, they were my favorite group during that time. In fact, our original name was Legacy, but Def Jam thought it sounded too much like Jodeci, so they made us change it.” Yet, while the 1990s saw a horde of soul groups like Blackstreet, 112, H-Town, Shai, Skindeep, Solo, Next, Jagged Edge, Silk and countless others, ten years into the new millennium the concept of Black male singing groups has virtually disappeared from the R&B/pop charts.

Greg Williams, a founding member of ’70s soul sensation Switch and one-time manager of El DeBarge, blames record labels for dropping the ball. “I think there are a few factors for the disappearance of soul groups,” he says, “beginning with the lack of creativity shown by A&R (Artist and Repertoire) in black music divisions. At one time A&R people knew music. They could sing or played an instrument, but today they just know what they’ve heard on the radio that morning.”

Nokio, an accomplished musician/producer who has also done his share of A&R, working closely with Trey Songz at Atlantic Records, couldn’t agree more. “We are now part of the microwave generation,” he says. “Everybody wants something right now. With a group, it’s all about artist development, which pretty much doesn’t exist anymore. A lot of people don’t know or understand what real music is.”

Dru Hill member Jazz, who sings lead on InDRUpendence Day’s scorching track “Below Zero,” has started his own artist development company in Baltimore called Taj Entertainment. The goal of the business is to recognize raw talent, whether rappers or singers, and get them professionally ready and polished.

“I grew up singing in church, then later was part of an excellent music curriculum at Douglass High School,” Jazz states. After Woody left the group for the second time, Jazz discovered the latest Dru member, Tao, at school. “That was where me and Nokio met, and at the time there were a few groups there. We did talent shows together or just hung out in the music room practicing. That was part of our training as a group, but these days most of the music programs have been cut from public schools. Really, what are kids supposed to do?”

Seasoned musician, producer and arranger Greg Williams, who lives in California and is currently finishing his memoir, Switch, DeBarge, Motown and Me, explains that while he could’ve been a solo artist, he chose to be in a group: “There is a real brotherhood and support system when you’re part of a group. Being a part of a unit trying to achieve a common goal can be more fulfilling than practicing by yourself in the bedroom. But, what often starts off good in the beginning can turn sour with bickering and fighting once success comes into the picture.”

Indeed, this is a scenario that the members of Dru Hill understand all too well, which  may help explain why  the collective has only recorded four albums in fourteen years. “We’ve had our share of fights and arguments, but we’ve matured a lot since those early days,” says Sisqo. “We don’t need people getting in our ear, whispering about the other group members, trying to separate us.”

It is this rebuilding of the Dru that will be explored on their upcoming reality show Platinum House, produced by R&B great and former mentor Keith Sweat for Centric TV. “Dru Hill is a family, and where I come from, family is forever,” Sisqo says. Hopefully, the return of the Dru to the spotlight will inspire other young Black men to believe that there’s strength in numbers and power in soul.

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