Alright, class, here's a word problem. Q: If a train could travel from South Orange, NJ to the banks of the Nile River, the court of Menelik II, and Kingston, Jamaica using 16 tracks, while managing to complete the trip in a little over 77 minutes with a 23-year-old conductor, how many Grammys would it win and how many albums would it sell? A: 5 and - eventually - more than 10 million. The conceit that provides the thematic structure to The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is a discussion taking place in a middle school classroom. After the introduction, during which the teacher, taking attendance, finds "Lauryn Hill" absent, each iteration of the class is tacked on to the end of one of the album's remaining fifteen songs. There is nothing terribly profound about the discussion, except for the degree to which the students and teacher are animated while talking about the subject of the day: love. The implication, of course, is that Hill, not present, is missing out on a fundamental lesson about life. A lesson she will eventually learn the hard way. Given this set up, the songs themselves become a platform from which the precocious singer and rapper may disseminate her hard-won wisdom. If this sounds like it might get preachy, your instincts are probably right. Occasionally, as during the chorus of "Forgive Them Father," Hill falls victim to believing her own hype as a messianic pop star. Elsewhere on the album, less overt attempts at creating hip-hop with a conscience fare much better. Especially during the all-too-rare rap verses, which are consistently weapons-grade. I am hard-pressed to remember any other female MC in the last 10+ years who conveyed such substantive content so eloquently or so engagingly. Given the run-time of Miseducation - which is actually a double album, longer even than Blonde on Blonde - it is impressive how little filler there is. Some of the R&B tracks drag a bit, but Hill finishes strong with two wonderfully understated performances. The first is a cover of Frankie Valli's "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You," which sounds both modern and timeless and the second is the gospel lullaby closer, "Tell Him," with its lilting, lulling strings. Across the board the production values have held up very well, thanks in large part to the organic, rootsy contributions by New Ark, Hill's mostly live, in-studio band. Too often hip-hop is doomed by a kind of planned obsolescence stemming from a short-sighted preference for trendy studio gimmickry (Auto-Tune, anyone?). The rapid stylistic turnover encouraged by a chew-'em-up-spit-'em-out singles-driven recording industry perpetually questing for the "next big thing" may make for good business, but it also results in disposable music. Luckily, Ms. Hill & Co went in another direction. It made the difference between ephemeral art designed to move units and something that will stand the test of time. Somehow Miseducation pulled off the feat of being a classic that sold really well. Hopefully new artists are taking notes. Grade: A-
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