Straddling the millennial line, Destiny's Child were either the last great pop group of the 90s or the first great one of the 21st century. And, since hits records are, after the single, the ultimate pop form, #1's should have no difficultly proving that status. Instead, it has the odd knock-on effect of suggesting that their legacy may be based on a smaller body of work than imagined. They were smart enough not to arrange this compilation chronologically, but since that's still the best way to tell most bands' stories, we'll start this review at the beginning.
Destiny's Child#1's contains only one track from Destiny's Child's little-heard debut. Little heard because it could be the work of any freshly scrubbed African-American teenagers from the mid-90s. Except this was the late-90s and, you know, Timbaland and all that. Weirdly, it was Wyclef Jean who unleashed the beast, adding punchy drums straight off Boogie Down Productions' Criminal Minded on his remix of "No, No, No (Part 2)". The group finally had a beat that properly funneled their bottomless well of scalding sass.
The Writing's on the WallRadio r&b; had already been popping for a good three years before DC took out a mortgage on the Billboard Top 40 in 1999, but they quickly became the platonic ideal, the space-age girl group of our national longings. Men are scrubs, cheaters, and liars, and Beyoncé, Kelly, Michelle, and the other one were avenging angels in pastel rooms with awesome furniture and better hair. Sure, it's a little redolent of that endless summer of the internet bubble economy at this point, but these days a little late-Clinton-era nostalgia hurts no one.
The beats, produced largely by Rodney Jerkins and Kevin "She'kspere" Briggs, are tsunamis of sparkling harpsichords, trilling xylophones, 8-bit rave riffs, lite-brite guitars, diamondique synth spritz, and sashaying hi-hats. When people whine about how those similar horn o' plenty alchemists in Basement Jaxx stiffed in America, well, we already had Destiny's Child-- with all the jam-packed funny noises, an undeniable song on top, and gorgeous girls in astronaut fabrics in the videos. Destiny's Child made the best pop-R&B; of the modern era. Period. But of course, that's no secret: These were, after all, world-conquering hits.
SurvivorSo like any teen Glamazon who just shifted five million records, Beyoncé Knowles wanted to assert that she wasn't just two Christmas hams stuffed into a pair of jeans. Which isn't something to hate on, except that she generally made better music as a producer's puppet. Suddenly, the whole world was full of scrubs she must excoriate in song while taking care not to diss them on the internet, proceeding to sell a billion more records. Which proves that though she's got an ego the size of the Astrodome, she's no fool.
You would think that some bright spark in the studio could have wiped "Independent Women Part 1" clean of the "Charlie's Angels" quotes. Prince's "Batdance" was a hit but it's not on The Hits, if you get me. I guess that wouldn't do anything to make the beat less functional and more exciting. "Bootylicious" and its disco throb are better than I remembered by half, and their cover of "Emotion" proves B's got genuine talent for vocal arrangements. If that sounds like damning with faint praise, it is.
Destiny's FufilledSo they broke up. Or "went on hiatus." Beyoncé went on to release a solo album with three major hits that everyone knows. Kelly went on to release a solo album with a few singles that no one knows. Michelle went back into cryogenic storage. When Destiny's Fulfilled suddenly burst onto the charts in the fourth quarter of last year-- front-loaded with the two most exciting tracks, not coincidentally the first two singles-- it should have been a sign.
"Lose My Breath" was a Rodney Jerkins drumline symphony of stabs, stilettos, and that weird mink stole B sported in the video. "Soldier" featured Rich "1 Thing" Harrison doing his best recession-era southern rap impression, with former Xtian good girls making double-barreled cock/firearm puns. The rest of the album oozed essential oils and upscale r&b; respectability. "Girl" was a stroll over a 9th Wonder-produced Dramatics sample through bros-before-hoes territory as latte frothy as its "Sex & the City" video. And then there was "Cater 2 U", which reneged on everything early DC stood for in a parade of kept-wifey pleas, lemme wipe your ass for you, cough, hack, splutter, barf.
Opener "Stand Up for Love" is subtitled the "2005 World Children's Day Anthem", which should tell you all you really need to know, i.e. Diane Warren should be banned under the Geneva Conventions. "Check on It" features Slim Thug and a sing-songy Swiz beat and should become a minor hit when cross-marketing with the new "Pink Panther" movie begins in earnest. Closer "Feel the Same Way I Do" sounds like an outtake from Mariah Carey's Emancipation, and ends with Beyoncé dumping her man-- kind of a bummer note to go out on. Plus, Michelle now sounds like Eartha Kitt after a few whippets and it's really annoying.
Final VerdictIn the MP3 age, you can take #1's as pure product and not feel wrong for doing so. (They're not thanking McDonald's and Pepsi in the liner notes out of the goodness of their hearts.) At eight awesome, three godawful, and five middling songs, it's clearly not worth 20 clams. So compile your own DC best-of online. Or just go buy The Writing's on the Wall, available for less than 12 bucks at any of our nation's finer discount department stores. You should still have enough left over for your automobills.
