February 17th marked the 20th anniversary of Destiny's Child's self-titled debut record. The date was definitely on my mental calendar because 'D.C.' was/is my heart, but I didn't really expect it to be on anyone else's radar. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw there was enough online conversation that the occasion was a "Twitter moment", and several commemorative articles were in circulation. Once I started combing through the fanfare, however, I felt a little dejected. Many of the tweets were from people who said they were infants or toddlers when the album came out. Thus, their 'reflections' were in hindsight or second-hand. So-called 'tribute' pieces barely discussed the actual project itself, focusing instead on the best-selling group's overall impact, or on Beyoncé as its cynosure. *Rolls eyes* Additionally, the editorials were written in this unaccustomed, passive tone that gave the authors away as D.C./Beyoncé novices. Some of the better (and more relevant) posts read like present-day reviews. Multiple mentioned they could understand why the LP performed only moderately well and received a mixed response from critics. They agreed with the consensus in 1998 that it was antiquated, a bit dull, inappropriate for a teenage act, and did nothing to separate the then quartet from other groups. I thought "I'm going to weigh in eventually. The crowds still have this album all wrong; it's so misunderstood and underrated."  The evaluations even got to Beyoncé herself, who said in 2006, "The first record was successful, but not hugely...It was a neo-soul record and we were 15-years-old [during recording]. It was way too mature for us."
 
From my perspective, the things that supposedly make the debut a misstep are what render it a golden, indispensable part of D.C.'s discography. One of the reasons the Jackson 5's "Who's Lovin' You" is so remarkable is that Michael Jackson was able to convey the anguish of a broken, grown man at age 11. The "too mature" material and "antiquated" musical production of Destiny's Child allowed the foursome to give a similarly impressive first testament to their ability. It commences with what I've jokingly described as 'the gates of Rock N' Roll heaven opening up' on "Second Nature." A declarative bluesy guitar riffs, before celestial harmonies enter over the rolls of a harp (or a piano, haha). Pointed plucks and percussion accentuate the sample of The Isley Brothers' "Make Me Say it Again" (1975), as Beyoncé questions, "Why does love always seem so very hard?" On top of this classic groove, she convincingly sings about serial relationship stumbles, instinctual devotion and giving all of herself, as if she knew something about any of it. The track is hypnotic and succulent until the very last drop. Like a chocolate with secret filling, the remaining 30 seconds unexpectedly wanders away from the main layout. Twinkling cymbals and piano take precedence over the guitar, then it beautifully fades to black. It's easily my favorite; it hits the spot.
 
Save for the 'designed for radio' singles "No, No, No Part 2" and "With Me Part 1," "Second Nature" sets the tone for the rest of the album. It's buttery musical and vocal arrangements (ex. "No, No, No Part 1"), vintage inspirations (ex. "Birthday"), and believable sung performance are heard throughout. D.C.'s execution of The Commodores' "Sail On" (1979) is nothing short of extraordinary. Their mellifluous and tender delivery expresses the romantic disillusionment of the verses, while their detectable confidence portrays the resilient attitude of the chorus. They sway between the two postures with consummate fluidity; there's isn't anything 'freshman' about it. Absolutely heart-tugging, their  R&B-converting cover did more to capture the song's premise than the unaffected, country-farcing original ever did.
 
On the immersing "Killing Time," the youngster's ghostly and pained voicing helps sell the adult despondency that comes when a troubled loved one pushes you away. Like "Second Nature," a solo soulful guitar is the initiator. A whispering flute follows, leading to D.C. and a taunting 'tick' that persists to the end. Tranquil, yet ornate strings further dramatize the air. Usually, emotive peaks are placed at the bridge, and room is left for a cool down. Beyoncé pushes the benchmark well past that, with cogent and heady work that keeps the track touchy through the close (she does the same on the stirring "My Time Has Come"). She eventually gives a defeated sigh, as the 'clock' ticks on and the strings quiet. I get completely lost in it; it's so gorgeous. The tune is technically D.C.'s first single, appearing on the July 1997 Men in Black soundtrack.
 
D.C. didn't abundantly sing in such a careful, impassioned manner again until 2004's Destiny Fulfilled. Beyoncé in particular altered or ceased to do a number of things stylistically. Part of what makes her a joy to take in are the varying shades of her voice. I'm in love with her warmer and lower tones, of which there's a higher concentration on Destiny's Child. There's also this deliberate enunciation and phrasing she uses that emphasizes feeling or adds character to wording. The tactic remained a signature of hers, but it's commonly applied in all its glory on stage. My favorite example is the playful and cutesy way she says "Sugah, sugah"  at the end of "Bridges'" first verse (another go-to cut for me). Going forward, some would say her standard delivery was excessively premeditated and technical, and subsequently missing emotion.

​For a die-hard fan of Beyoncé (also known as a BeyHive member), attending her concerts is communion. It's a rare instance that comes once about every 3 years where we can sit in an arena full of people just like us; gone are the judgments, criticisms, questions and antagonisms of those who think we're strange or idiotic for our fandom. Finally, we're around others who can air-drum and sing-along with us through Bey's ad-libs and quirky vocal/verbal twitches because they too have seen a million recorded performances and have memorized the live versions (if I got a dollar every time I said "Whoadie" while listening to "Countdown" and those around me were confused, I'd be rich). There's a collective gasping and freaking out when unofficial or rarely done songs come up, and inside jokes are understood. Our applause at the end of a dance break or musician's solo is genuine because we know the crew. If Beyoncé does a tribute or a mash-up with another artist's track, we know the reasoning behind it. When she goes into a sermon, tells a story or plays a personal video clip, we know the context and can connect with her. Especially for long-time attendees (I've been lucky enough to see every tour since "Ladies First" in 2004--except "On the Run;" I have my reasons for not going), seeing Bey is like reuniting with an old friend. You are hers, and she is yours. The fellowship is part of what makes the live experience the climatic thing that it is, and why some go to multiple dates on the same tour. So, imagine how downhearted I must have felt walking away from the "Formation World Tour" thinking those days were over.
 
As I worked my way through the bustling crowd at Nashville's Nissan Stadium to get to my seat, I already began to detect a difference. Demographic groups I'd previously seen in smaller portions were substantially larger, necking up with Bey's primary audience of black women in their 20 and 30's. The most notable additions were children (which is interesting because Beyoncé's music hasn't been kid-friendly since 2013), older black women and white men. I thought "Humm...this is interesting," and quickly got back to focusing on locating my section. Once there, I began chatting up the woman next to me. Usually when I do this, it results in a fun stan-session and they're my BFF for the next few hours. This time, I was dealing with someone who described themselves as "a big fan," but only had the Lemonade album, and on stream at that (which is not ownership). Sigh. When Chime for Change ads and music videos for Montina Cooper, Sophie Beem and sister-duo Chloe & Halle started to play, I heard people ask "What's Chime for Change? Who are these singers?" I had to explain that Beyoncé was a co-founder of a fund-raising organization for women, Cooper was one of her background singers, and that the other artists were those she's signed to her record label. "Beyoncé has her own label?," inquires a woman wearing a shirt that reads "'Cause I Slay," a lyric from the single "Formation." Double sigh.
 
A couple of numbers in, the opening chords of "Me, Myself & I" (my favorite ever) slowly ring out. I identify it instantly and jump down the stairway. I couldn't contain myself. It was last on the set-list in 2007 for "The Beyoncé Experience;" hands were up and amen's were shouted like it was a church service then. At this venue though, I apparently was the only one prepared for the deliverance. No one in my area seemed to recognize the song (I was pretty darn close on the side too). Bey talked about how it came from her first solo album and thanked everyone for riding with her since Destiny's Child arrived 20 years ago. I grumbled under my breath, "Too bad most of the people over here don't know anything about that." Later, footage of her talking to a camera at age 16 comes across the screen. I smile warmly. It came with DC's debut, back when there were CD-ROM bonus features. I reminisced about how impressed I was with Bey's focus and spirituality. I related to her perspective and found her adorably endearing. When material like this is pulled out of the vault for the stage, it's precious. A flood of memories rush over; you recall your life at the time, the significance of that piece and where your favorite artist (who's likely reflecting back with you) was in their career. It creates a nostalgic nirvana that's overcoming, particularly when it's happening at mass. Watching that tape threw me into thinking about how I have practically grown up with this woman (we're close in age) and the mark that she's made on me. Additionally, as a music nerd, it's such an honor to have bared witness to an artist's development from the early stages and be able to testify to it. You get to carve "I was here" in the door. However, as with "Me, Myself & I," my near-nirvana was abruptly interrupted when someone said, "Whoa, where'd that come from?"