Jan. 9, 2006 issue - It took the music industry 10 long years to figure out what to do with Anthony Hamilton. The soul singer didn't rap, he didn't croon slick R&B ballads and, worst of all, he dressed like a trucker circa 1974. After four failed record deals and only a few shelved albums to show for his effort, Hamilton seemed washed up. But a strange thing happened on the way to obscurity: a record on which Hamilton sang, the Nappy Roots single "Po' Folks," was nominated for a Grammy in 2003, and he was invited to perform at the pre-awards brunch for such luminaries as Prince and Alicia Keys. "I didn't shave or wear nice clothes—that was my protest," says Hamilton, who wore a baseball cap for the occasion. "I was angry at the music industry for the mess they were putting on the radio. It all was pretty and dressed up, but it said nothin'! I came in as dusty as I could. That way, there was nothing to concentrate on but my music, and I sung like it was my last shot."
This time, Hamilton blew the room away. Spectator Michael Mauldin immediately called his son, the hip-hop star/producer Jermaine Dupri: "You've got to hear this guy. He's the real thing," he told Dupri. The following year, Hamilton's "Comin' From Where I'm From" was released through Arista on Dupri's So So Def Records. The CD grew by word of mouth and was nominated for three Grammys (it lost, but still went platinum). Now Hamilton is back with "Ain't Nobody Worryin'." The new CD is as inspired, warm and unaffected as his last. It's a slow-burning collection of gritty and graceful everyday tales and the occasional goof-off (one song, "Sista Big Bones," is Hamilton's secret ode to a large woman he passes daily on the street). Hamilton is more spiritual on this CD, but works his strong beliefs into balanced, nonpreachy songs. His voice—deep and dusty, laid-back and throaty—is so natural it feels like the discovery of some secret, raw talent.
Despite his recent success, Hamilton's still one of the music industry's best-kept secrets. He keeps a low profile, prefers to perform in small venues and chose not to fill his CD with the usual cast of celebrity guests. He keeps things simple—like they were back home in Charlotte, N.C. During a recent lunch on tour, Hamilton shooed a fly away, then suggested that the Beverly Hills eatery install some creaky metal screen doors, just like "we have back home." The maitre d' looked puzzled. "I'm joking with you," said Hamilton, adjusting his cap. He leaned to his wife, gospel singer Tarsha McMillian (she's on his new CD), and whispered, "I don't think he got it." Though Hamilton now lives in New York, he is still all about his Southern roots. "I grew up on Elvis Presley and 'Hee Haw'," says the singer. "That was really the only secular music we heard in the house. Then there was church. My mom would give me a butterscotch, then a peppermint, then pinch me 'cause I was fidgeting—but I was full of sugar! The only way I could move around was if I sung." After high school, Hamilton became a licensed barber until he was finally "discovered" by Mark Sparks (of Salt 'n' Pepa fame) in 1993. That's when his string of failed record contracts began.
You have to ask: were all of Hamilton's past albums really that bad, or did the record companies just have a hard time marketing the ex-barber? It's obvious now that the rural-sounding Hamilton was difficult to package, especially since his music didn't fit into any established soul niche. "It's all about sounding like everyone else," says Dupri. "He is unique, so the people he'd signed with before just didn't know what to do with him. When I heard him sing, I was, like, 'How could anyone not get it?' All we did was understand him. We didn't do anything else. Then we put his record out and watched it spread." Hamilton may have been doing things just right all along: when his previously shelved Atlantic Records CD "Soulife" was rereleased last year, it went gold. Hamilton's family is proud, even ecstatic, that he has persevered. But they also do their best to keep him humble. "When I go home they say, 'We don't care how much you sing or if we see you on TV, just cut our hair now'," says Hamilton. "I also arch eyebrows, you know. [Laughs] I suppose you could say I'm multitalented." Isn't that the truth.
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