Jill Scott Makes Love to the Moody

Austin’s black population may be in decline, but you’d never know it judging from the sold-out, overwhelmingly black audience that came to groove on the grown and sexy vibes of Philly soulstress Jill Scott at the Moody Theater on Saturday night.

Scott stormed the neo-soul scene 15 years ago with a debut album that answered the question, Who Is Jill Scott? It’s been “A Long Walk,” as the hit song goes, but Jilly from Philly currently boasts the best-selling album in the country with Woman, her fifth studio LP and first in four years. And she can damn sure still roar.

Scott isn’t Janelle Monae visionary, nor does she posses the gonzo genius of Erykah Badu, but – truth be told – she’s a better singer than both. And nobody does downhome sexy better. The 43-year-old singer was barely into a 90-minute set when she paraded the full band to each corner of the stage for a photo op, encouraging folks to get the flash photos out of the way all at once.

“I don’t mind if you videotape, but what I can’t take is the bright lights,” she explained. “It’s not conducive to a session of lovemaking, and that’s what this is all about.”

Definitely. Throughout the performance, Scott bemoaned the decline of quality pornography, extolled the virtues of self-pleasure and maintenance sex, and thrust herself against the plexiglass drum shield in unison to every percussive note of the sensual “Crown Royal.”

“Anyone that tells you there’s no difference between screwing and making love is a fool,” she proclaimed.

Then she launched into new break-up sex anthem “Closure.”

“Don’t be expecting no breakfast in the morning, baby,” she cooed. “You got all you gonna get. This is it. This is cloooooosure.”

The fact that she can do all that while remaining a church crowd darling remains testament to her extraordinary talent and disarming charm. Sunny and upbeat, “Golden” praised God’s glory without ever being preachy. A funky, stretched-out version of “A Long Walk” required a bit of biblical literacy.

“Maybe we can talk about Revelation 3:17,” she nodded.

When she wasn’t breaking down the birds and the bees, Scott stumped for her sisters.

“How many boss ladies in the house tonight? I’m not saying ’cause you said you are. I’m talking about ’cause you got employees and shit.”

In her employ was a 10-piece, black-clad backing band that included the Pipes, a trio of tank-topped male backup singers who shined on “You Don’t Know.” Take that, Gladys.

“Fifteen years ago I wrote this song,” she reflected before demonstrating operatic range on closer “He Loves Me.” “This has been an incredible 15-year journey, but nights like this make it feel so good.”