J. Holiday 'Back of My Lac' album

J. Holiday doesn’t pull any punches when he offers his take on the current state of R&B. “Rhythm and Blues is lacking storytellers right now,” insists the candid 22-year-old singer/songwriter. Holiday then pauses, name checks the late legendary singer Otis Redding as if to show his soul credentials and asks, “Where’s our generations’ ‘Sitting on the Dock of the Bay?’ Lately, it seems hip-hop has been birthing all of the great storytellers. It’s time to show that R&B is way more than just dance music. That’s what I’m trying to convey with my music. I won’t settle for less.” While such a statement may seem like a bold proclamation from the fresh-faced newcomer, the Washington D.C. native more than backs it up with his debut album, Back of My Lac. The buzz-heavy Music Line Group/Capitol Records release spotlights a burgeoning talent whose diverse influences range from the heartfelt soul of Marvin Gaye to the provocative street poetry of rap icon Tupac Shakur.

“My sound is old school soul with a little mix of hip-hop,” explains Holiday . “If I had to give it a name I would call it ‘street soul.’ Nowadays the ‘hood has little to listen to within R&B. I want my music to be the soundtrack to their lives and beyond.”

Indeed, an ambitious J. Holiday is poised to live up to such lofty aspirations. The hypnotic first-single “Be with Me,” produced by Rodney Jerkins, finds Holiday offering the age-old tale of a man wanting to be more than just friends with the object of his affections. “You be giving me the coldest shoulder/‘cause you don’t want your emotions taking over,” he croons. “Instead of talking about you looking for a soldier/are you trying to say you don’t see that in me?” On the title track “Back Of My Lac,” J. Holiday gives listeners a glimpse of his life struggles with heartfelt lines like “I grew up in a house with my mother/I didn’t have my punk ass father/because he felt it was time to move on.”

“Without You” builds on a 70’s groove complete with soulful horns and lush strings as Holiday pushes to win back the love of a woman he’s lost. The bass-heavy hardened blues of “City Boy” (featuring dirty south rhyme royalty 8 Ball & MJG) is a two-fisted anthem of ghetto empowerment. And on “Thug Commandments,” Holiday is backed by a swinging, piano-driven break beat as he drops much-needed jewels for the block: “Stop cuffing that young girl, let her breathe/Be a father to your kids…no doo-rags in the Lord’s house/Put trust in the Lord, but keep a glock in the house.” For Holiday , such songwriting comes naturally for a young man who has never forgotten his humble beginnings.

“I can say that I’ve lived that street life,” he testifies of his time growing up in Washington D.C. “The streets are not anything to glamorize. I’m trying to let my people back home know that I’m with them. DC has a lot of talent and I’m just trying to show people that we are here.”

J. Holiday is a preachers’ son. Raised in the church by a hardworking mother, the pull of secular music was still too much for him to ignore. Fascinated by the early ‘90s R&B vocal groups such as Boyz II Men, H-Town and Jodeci, J. Holiday soon became enamored with hip-hop, marveling in the intricate rhymes of Jay-Z and OutKast. But it was during a high school talent show when a 14-year-old Holiday knew he had a passion for singing. However, local bands were unable to recruit the budding vocalist, whose mother had plans for her son to finish school before seriously pursuing music. Two years later, J. Holiday would discover the music of Marvin Gaye, an experience he calls a “revelation.”

“At the time, I didn’t really know that much about him,” he says of the late soul icon. “Marvin became my major influence. He opened me up to folks like Donny Hathaway and Al Green. Those artists had a real honest soul about them. I just wanted to mix that feeling with hip-hop.”

The gifted vocalist had found his calling. Holiday skipped college and began recording demos in a local studio. He also found himself increasingly caught up in street activities, but music offered a more positive path. Soon, Holiday met up with current manager Corey Green and formed the group 295, named after the D.C. highway. Buzz for 295 was growing but by 2003 the R&B act disbanded. Fortunately for J. Holiday, his vocal prowess and dynamic stage presence was too much of a commodity to pass up. A&R veteran, Anthony “T.A” Tate, of Music Line Group (Ciara, Teairra Marie) quickly set up a meeting with Capitol Records and a deal was made on the spot.

“You just have to stay true to yourself,” Holiday says of his turbulent journey to becoming a recording artist. “A lot of artists nowadays are trying to be something that they are necessarily not. I don’t care how good a song is…if I don’t feel it personally, I’m not going to sing it because it’s not true to me. I feel very personal about my album. There’s nothing fake about it. This is my life. There are a lot of different stories out here and people just need to listen to them.”

biography
There are no mirrors or tricks here, no sleight of hand. When J. Holiday talks earnestly of “following my dreams” and “being in love with music,” it’s not a deliberately sympathetic portrayal by a partial writer. In fact, J.’s talent is matched –in rarity and intensity—only by his enthusiasm. His candor and vulnerability are refreshing, given the static, formulaic state of R&B. The question most are asking, though, is where did J. Holiday come from?

The answer is short, but runs deep: D.C. And while D.C.’s trademark sounds breed musicianship– “so many talented cats playing go-go or in church”—the city remains untapped.” And home, for J. Holiday, is where the art is. He was born into a musical family; mother Frances, one of 11 siblings, sang gospel with her 5 sisters, while his older sister supplied backing vocals for Crystal Waters. “Music was always around me and I just wanted to do it,” he recalls. But his first performances were as much coercion as inspiration: “When I was nine or ten years old, my older male cousins would always tell me to sing to girls passing by on the street. It was later that I realized they were exploiting me.” So by age ten, J. Holiday was finding his voice. Within a year, however, he was struggling to find his way. “My Pops died when I was eleven,” he states flatly. “He was sick and didn’t tell nobody. Not even my Mom. She never knew what was going on until he died.”

“A lot of people think he’s still alive because of the way I talk about him,” Holiday segues. “A lot of the struggling that I’ve been through was because of that situation. Nobody was prepared for it. My mom, that’s my best friend. But looking back, everything happens for a reason. That’s what got me here.”

Picking up the pieces, the remaining family bounced around the D.C. area; J. attended three different high schools in four years. On top of not having my father, it was harder for me because my mom was a preacher. So I knew I couldn’t go to her about certain things. It was like trial and error; I had to learn a lot on my own, and that’s how I ended up messing with the streets. And the streets kept me from being soft. People always assume that the hood is gonna steer you wrong. I always had people in the hood, to this day, who wanted to keep me out of trouble. They couldn’t be my dad, but they told me what it was: advising me to think, to be smart.”

J. identifies two catharses along his creative odyssey: a 9th grade talent show, wherein he flexed his wares, and his discovery of Marvin Gaye: “I was just listening to songs that I loved. Then I found out that all the songs were by the same guy. That was a main trigger for me, getting hip to Marvin. He led me to Donny Hathaway and Al Green.” Channeling these staples with newer ensembles –Jodeci, Boyz II Men, even OutKast— J. eventually formed a group called 295, named for the famed thoroughfare between Washington, D.C. and Baltimore, Maryland.

Following J.’s high school graduation, the trio moved to Atlanta, hoping to ride the musical influx into the burgeoning city. “We sat in front of L.A. Reid,” he recounts. “And it just didn’t happen. I think being a solo artist fits me better because I hate depending on other people. At the same time, I’ve never liked to point the finger. If we fail, we all fail together. But as the lead singer, I was doing 75, 80 percent of the work. That gets old. On top of that, our songs had circulated so much in the industry that we needed a new demo. And I was like, ‘If I’m going to record all new songs, I might as well do them myself.’

Reveling in his freedom, J. Holiday set about forging his own identity; a four-song demo landed him, fittingly, on Capitol Records. Those seedlings sprouted into his full-grown debut, Back of My ‘Lac. Though the record sports the requisite club-pleasers and woman-teasers –“I get that soft side from my mother”-- Holiday has brought an unexpected edge to R&B music. He bears, proudly and boldly, a street sensibility and bravado normally reserved for hip-hop. That versatility, genuine and uncontrived, encapsulates J. Holiday. “It wasn’t done purposely. I just speak from what I’ve been through, or what my homies been through. I just try to keep it real. I let a track talk to me. If a track feels like a love song, I write a love song. But, you have to make that song mean something. If it’s not heartfelt for me, it’s not going to be heartfelt for anybody. I think people are too concerned with having one hit song, and the artistry that goes into an entire album is getting lost.”

Indeed, J. doesn’t have one hit song on the album; he has several. His satiny croon creases the sheets on “BED,” penned and produced by The Dream and Tricky Stewart. This pair is recently responsible for Rhianna’s similarly celestial single “Umbrella.” Meanwhile, super producer Rodney “Darkchild” Jerkins—think Michael Jackson, Mary J. Blige, Beyoncé—lays the liquid, libidinous bassline underneath J.’s smoky, soulful vocals on “Be With Me.” Campaigning on an irresistible inaugural album, and backed by the Music Line management team –Ciara, Teairra Mari—D.C.’s prized son is set to unseat R&B’s incumbents.

J. Holiday is an intriguingly paradoxical figure, equal parts soldier, student, scion, and sage. Fortunately for listeners, the preacher’s son has chosen R&B as his preferred pulpit and the airwaves as his congregation. “I’m very conscious and music is the number-one source of expression and emotion,” he explains. “You don’t have to listen to me, but I’m just trying to let you know of another perspective.” That perspective, arriving with the fury of a burning bush, is sure to inspire converts. Rejoice in the Holiday season.

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J. Holiday - Back of My Lac