Backspin: Heavy D & The Boyz — Nuttin’ But Love (1994)

The Overweight Lover hosted hip-hop’s first grown folks party. (85.5/100)

The concept of “adult contemporary” gets a bad rap among music fans. Perhaps the well has been poisoned by the saccharine trifles pumped into the waiting room at your dentist’s office.

In its purest form adult contemporary is an organic and vital element of the popular music ecosystem. It’s an avenue for mature artists, comfortable in their skin, to share their lived experiences and pass down hard earned wisdom using their finely honed musical chops. Steely Dan is adult contemporary. So is Sade.

In 1994, Heavy D joined them with a smooth grooving set of grown man rap celebrating life, love, and ultimately growth.

“Friends & Respect” establishes the milieu as a parade of Hip-Hop luminaries pay heartfelt homage to Heavy D’s artistry and character over a soulful instrumental. The 5 minute runtime feels leisurely rather than plodding, conveying that even in one of hip-hop’s most aggressive moments, there would be no blustering histrionics here. We’re simply hanging with the coolest brother on block.

With a simple “let’s go,” Spike Lee kicks off the airily soulful “Sex Wit You.” The Pete Rock produced track has more than enough boogie in the bottom to get the dance floor grinding, but Heavy D uses it to set the table for one of the album’s recurring themes: connection.

“It ain’t all about sex wit’ you,” he tells his perspective partner on the chorus, before laying bare his desire for substantive engagement. The song’s progression reflects the same sophistication as the rhymes. The second verse acknowledges his prospect’s trepidation due to past hurt, while the third offers a vision of healing.

The confidently charming persona that made 1987’s “Overweight Lover’s In the House” a breakout hit remains intact. It’s the perspective that has evolved, as is natural over the course of 7 years in any world other than the Neverland of popular music.

The smash single, “Got Me Waiting,” demands a similar maturity from the object of his affection, whose elusiveness is wearing thin. “Got Me Waiting” is a masterclass in rap songwriting, with Heavy D evoking palpable frustration and building a vivid narrative within the tight structure of a radio song, complete with choruses and a bridge.

I got a funny feeling, honey that you’re kind of diggin’ me But every time you see me, word is bond, you be ignorin’ me I know your name, yes, I do, because your girls told me I know where you live, you wanna bet? Because your girls showed me But I’ll parlay and stay out of your way Figurin’ I won’t be ignorant And catch you the next day When I’m in focus, I notice you only move with a chosen few Irreplaceable, what’s up with insatiable you? I never figured you for the quiet type On the down low, the low profile type I always thought you was a rah-rah mama Stirrin’ up crazy confusion, causin’ drama What’s the matter, huh? Cat got your tongue? Or some mack got you strung? Or maybe I ain’t the one? I want to know, cause if I don’t it’s gonna haunt me Yo, word up, you got me thinking you want me

Heavy D’s rapping on “Got Me Waiting” stands as a sterling example of his most overlooked talent, and arguably the most overlooked element of MCing: elocution. His modulation is impeccable, always emphasizing the most pertinent word or syllable to convey not only meaning, but tone. His inflections and deflections play within the open spaces of Pete Rock’s Luther Vandross loop to provide narrative momentum and variation. Heavy D is as skilled a vocal practitioner as hip-hop has seen, and artists from subsequent generations would have been well served by studying his phrasing and enunciation the way they studied Rakim’s flows.

The self-produced (with co-production from Kid Capri) title track embodies the formula for meeting multiple audiences where they live without pandering. The playful call-and-response chorus lured the ladies in, even as the Heavster was suavely kicking them to the curb lyrically. But the effortlessly elastic flow made it impossible for even the iciest-grilled purists to front. The airy synths created an instant crossover favorite, while the use of Bob James’ eternally infectious “Take Me to the Mardi Gras” break, a B-boy staple, grounded it in the tradition of hip-hop.

Instantly familiar samples are deployed throughout, particularly on the club ready tracks. Taana Gardner’s “Heartbeat” (“Something Goin’ On”), Kool & the Gang’s “Lady’s Night” (“This is Your Night”), and Patrice Rushen’s “Remind Me” (“Take Your Time”) all get a turn on the table at Heavy D’s grown folks party.

It’s a canny cheat code: provide club goers the instant rush of nostalgic familiarity that never fails to fill a dance floor paired with a persona of modern style to make the party feel vibrant. Heav’s Uptown Records protégé Sean Combs would later build an empire off the very same template.

Where the nouveaux riche flamboyance of Combs’ Bad Boy Records brand sold caviar dreams, the warmth of Heavy D’s humanity connects with listeners on a more intimate level. “Black Coffee” delivers a heartfelt tribute to Black women that evolves into an affirmation of the Black family.

Coming at a moment when it was all too common for even conscious rappers to take Black women to task while exoticizing non-Blacks, the album’s third hit single brought genuine love — romantic, familial, and cultural — into heavy radio rotation. In true Heavy D fashion, the tribute is paid with playful aplomb rather than didactic sanctimony. It’s a celebration, not a lecture.

I need a girl who ain’t scared to scrap Someone who got my back Gotta be a dark skinned or light skinned Black The type of girl that stays busy all day But when the sun goes down, she’s my sexy soufflé (Hey) Somebody real who ain’t afraid to work If you try to disrespect her, mess around and get your feelings hurt She ain’t pressed for no corny, horny derelict She’ll only flex with a brother that can handle it And I don’t care if she’s a little bit jealous She can still be a lady while she’s coolin’ with the fellas An intellectual; beautiful, sexual Hands on her hips, but when she flips, she’s incredible Candlelight dinners from her man But she’s a trooper; if she has to, she’ll eat beans from the can A very nice girl, but don’t mistake her for no softy And that’s the way I like it Yeah, my black coffee

“Move On” pauses the party to close the album with a powerful plea to men. Heavy D uses the first two verses to highlight the ongoing struggles plaguing urban communities by way of recounting the fates of old friends to a pair of incarcerated homies. The rhymes carry a “there but for the grace of God go I” self-awareness, with Heav seeming almost humbled by his own outsized success.

The final verse is one of the most intensely personal of his career, with Heavy D speaking on tragedies from his own family to highlight the pervasiveness of the destructive cycles that continue to claim Black lives:

We live in the suburbs Where crimes and murders are never heard of So why’s my brother dead From a gunshot to the head? And why’s my other brother in jail for sales? On his fourth of his five years I remember my mom’s tears

He closes on a note of determined optimism, pledging to keep moving forward despite the quicksand undertow of the past. He urges us to do the same as the impassioned chorus rides out with gospel fervor.

It was Heavy D’s irrepressible spirit that made his 2011 death, at age 44, one of hip-hop’s most painful losses. In a bitter note of irony, he died of a pulmonary embolism following a hike, part of a rigorous exercise regiment that had helped him lose over 100 pounds. True to form, he was moving forward.

That’s what Nuttin’ But Love represents. Through growth and progression, Heavy D crafted hip-hop’s first adult contemporary album, evolving with his original audience and providing a template for organic maturation.

Many of hip-hop’s longest tenured luminaries have dabbled in the adult contemporary lane paved by Heavy D to sustain late career success. While it has yielded ‘90s legends like Snoop (“Beautiful”) and Jay-Z (“Change Clothes”) some of their biggest 21st Century singles, few have had the confidence to lean into it for a full album. As a result Nuttin’ But Love remains a bit of a unicorn in the hip-hop cannon, making it a fitting capstone for the truly singular career of Heavy D.

By the Numbers

Production: 8 Lyrics (how the words are put together): 9 Delivery & Flow: 9.5 Content (Substance): 8.5 Cohesiveness: 9 Consistency: 8.5 Originality: 8.5 Listenability: 9.5 Impact/Influence: 8 Longevity: 7

Total — 85.5

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