OK, that's it. I've had it. I have to admit something that I was trying not to admit to myself. Believe me, facing one's limitations is a tough thing to do. Anyway, here is my confession. I'm simply not smart enough to fully understand Meshell Ndegeocello's latest album, The World Has Made Me the Man of My Dreams. There, I said it. You win, Meshell. I is confused! But even in my ignorance of all that the album may actually mean, I am digging it like an excavator.

I have been driving around with this CD on a loop for a couple of weeks now, and it really has taken a hold. It may not grab you on the first listen because there is simply too much to process, but I have since found that I can't seem to listen to anything else. This woman's music gets to me. Even when she taunts my intellect and makes "roc is a dunderhead!" jokes about me behind my back, I still love her.

The album was released in late September, and Ndegeocello did a show in New York a couple of weeks ago — yet the release was so quiet, it was hard to know it happened. Ndegeocello is a kind of anti–rock star; she really doesn't promote herself much. She just exists. She seems solely interested in the music, and she knows her fans will find her. And they do.

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