Nothing But Love

Family affair: Kindred's Dantzler and Graydon find inspiration in each other and their children, Diya and Aquil. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

Kindred, Philly’s first couple of R&B, says it’s all you need.

by Ainé Ardron-Doley

Taking Phillyís infamously long 23 bus route downtown one fine summer day, two riders are sitting in the back of the bus and discussing this "new" Philly group whose name they just canít conjure up.

"I just saw them shooting a video at a club downtown. Jill Scott and India Arie were there, it was on the 11 o'clock news," says one woman.

"I think they're married," says the other.

Back and forth, forth and back, the riders excitedly discuss the mystery group. The name they're looking for is Kindred, a singing/songwriting soul duo worthy of being the talk of the town.

"It's the small things that make it well worth it," says Fatin Dantzler, the Y chromosome-bearing member of the group, phoning in on the Fourth of July from the Essence Music Festival in New Orleans. Small world, eh? Dantzler used to ride the 23 every day to the Philadelphia High School for the Creative and Performing Arts not too long before he met his future wife, Aja Graydon. Together they've formed a united front that the music biz hasn't seen since Ashford & Simpson.

Dantzler spent his youth studying voice and sax before finding a niche songwriting for the likes of Bell Biv DeVoe and Pebbles. Graydon, a D.C. native, signed to Delicious Vinyl Records at 15 and was whisked off to L.A., on the road to teenybopper pop glory. But fate intervened when she met Dantzler and the two began writing songs together in a New York City loft where The Roots often jammed late into the night. Then, of all things, love happened. Marriage and a baby carriage were next. With the arrival of their son, Aquil, daddy snagged a 9-to-5 at an appliance store since music dreams don't feed the baby.

But the dreams just wouldn't die, either. Dantzler soon parted ways with his day job and Kindred was born. Electrifying weekly performances on the stage of the Five Spot's legendary hip-hop/soul Black Lily stage landed the duo the chance to put it on wax with Hidden Beach Records (home to Jill Scott). Kindred inked a deal in December 2000.

But it wasn't until March of this year that Surrender to Love landed on the shelves. "We just took our time and made a product we could be proud of in the end," explains Dantzler. Management changes and the birth of a baby girl, Diya, also helped delay the record.

Surrender to Love arrived to the delight of fans, miniscule advertising and plenty of critical acclaim. "I mean everybody wants people to be aware of their project," says Graydon. "At Hidden Beach it's more about what kind of marketing touches peoples hearts."

As usual, Dantzler adds a little yin to the yang, "It's important to understand that a record deal with an artist is very much a marriage. There are going to be good and bad days. But all in all, it's about the love and the dedication to the project that everybody has."

Kindred make R&B somewhere at the other end of the dial from Ashanti and R. Kelly. Without being lovey-dovey or sappy, the couple carve out an old-school spot for themselves, where true love rules and family is not an extinct concept. "Everything is either about sex or cheating or it's a wedding song. But what do you listen to after you get married?" asks Graydon. "People are constantly trying to fit us into whatever box they can find. They can't figure it out. How can you be young and actually be committed? How can you be married and love each other at the same time?

"Uh-huh," says Dantzler. He's heard the naysayers: "'You guys read too old! You guys can't be on the hip-hop and R&B station!'"

Graydon laughs, adding, "'You have to be on the adult station!' When I was young, adult meant Eddie Murphy, Richard Pryor, Redd Foxx, Millie Jackson."

How times have changed. As global sales continue to plummet, the recording industry has announced a severe price cut on CDs in an attempt to lure customers back to record stores and away from free file-sharing sites on the Internet. But no matter which way consumers consume, platinum is the standard and sex sells. For Kindred, this sometimes means being relegated to "adult stations" like WDAS 105.3 FM. Airplay on the more youthful Power 99 FM and The Beat 103.9 FM is hard fought for. So what's a good old-fashioned, hard-working family band to do? What they've always done best -- kick it live.

Kindred recently packed the Trocadero and led a crowd through what might be categorized as a revival. With a big band -- background singers, a too-fly horn section, drums, keys, bass and guitar -- they were a perfect 10 plus two. Whether they were rocking hard to DMX beat or dabbling over OutKast's sonic backdrops, the couple traded lyrics of love and dedication back and forth without preaching to the choir. "For us, because we came out of Philly, we're very influenced by the live hip-hop show. Who wants to always be associated with this R&B vibe where everybody has to be sitting down with a drink chillin', all dressed up and shit?" says Graydon. With horns that recalled Earth, Wind & Fire and the stomp-your-feet funkiness of James Brown, sweat and energy poured forth, as the couple closed the show with the soul-clapping, stage-shaking "Rhythm of Life." Singing of life, love and tougher times, Graydon's honeyed alto flowed sweetly with her husband's gracious yet powerful tenor.

Kindred's been there, done that -- from USA Today to People to Tavis Smiley's show on NPR -- since the record came out.

"We used to watch his show every night" says Dantzler of Smiley's old show on BET. Graydon adds, "When we first got married, that was our little routine. We'd get in bed and watch Tavis. He [Tavis] didn't even realize how significant it was for us."

Dantzler steps in, "You don't realize how significant this one is to us." Hometown love is good love. In 2001 the group snagged City Paper's award for Best R&B/Soul Group. "I mean that's the only award we've ever won. It's special," he explains.

Still, "You can't deny that you wish you had a sales week like 50 Cent and sold 300,000 copies a week but, we're in it for the long haul," Dantzler says, expounding on the reality that critical acclaim doesn't pay the bills. So Kindred remains a hard-working family unit. Aquil is a toddler and Diya's learning to walk. Signing off from New Orleans, Kindred heads off to a panel discussion called "Living and Loving Stress-Free in 2003."

"Like what do we know about that?" asks Graydon.

Tenderly, Dantzler's voice floats through the telephone line, "Not living stress-free, but living and loving we know a lot about."