
MARTIN TSAI
Natalie “The Floacist” Stewart, left, and Marsha “The Songstress” Ambrosius of Floetry perform at NJPAC in Newark, April 8.
Even under normal circumstances, a Floetry reunion would seem improbable. The British (by way of Philadelphia) neo-soul duo hasn’t performed or toured since 2016, and their earlier breakup, in 2007, appeared definitive at the time. The 25-city Say Yes Tour, which launched with an April 8 concert at NJPAC in Newark, therefore felt miraculous in every sense. That Natalie Stewart is again The Floacist and Marsha Ambrosius once more The Songstress brings a measure of alrightness to a troubled moment — an impression reinforced by the fact that this show was added to the tour only after the April 9 NJPAC show approached capacity. The appetite for their return, it seemed, has quietly accumulated over the years.
Floetry’s formation was organic, almost accidental, yet their dissolution bore the familiar imprint of industry pressures — creative differences sharpened by commercial expectations. They released only two studio albums as a duo, yet their influence proved lasting. Along with Jill Scott, Glenn Lewis and producers Andre Harris and Vidal Davis, they helped define early-aughts Philly neo-soul with a distinctive hybrid of slam poetry and vintage soul. Their songs unfolded as conversations, with The Floacist’s spoken-word passages weaving through The Songstress’s melodic refrains. The format felt intimate without being insular, literary without losing groove.
I first saw them in 2002, opening for another act whom they so thoroughly upstaged that about the only thing I still recall about the headliner was the awkward stage banter. Floetry, by contrast, felt self-contained and assured, as though they had arrived with a fully formed aesthetic. Their minimal staging — two women, a band and a palpable sense of chemistry — made an impression that lingered.

The cover of Floetry’s 2002 “Floetic” album.
As they did a decade ago, they opened their April 8 set with “Big Ben.” This time, however, they arrived with props, perhaps for the first time in 24 years: a red British telephone box and a bench, allowing them to recreate the cover of their 2002 debut album, Floetic. The gesture could have felt nostalgic in a heavy-handed way, but instead it registered as playful, even affectionate — a nod to their beginnings without being trapped by them. Right off the bat, one sensed the occasion’s significance.
Those who attended Ambrosius’s solo shows at NJPAC would note the difference in her demeanor as The Songstress. Her solo work often leans toward high-gloss R&B, with vocal runs that emphasize virtuosity. Within Floetry, her voice seems more conversational, her phrasing shaped by The Floacist’s interjections. When the pair bumped fists midway through “Headache,” as if celebrating a slam dunk, one liked to think it also reflected their history of playing basketball together at university — an anecdote that, whether apocryphal or not, evokes their easy rapport.
Ambrosius has long performed Floetry favorites during her solo shows, but the reunion underscores how integral The Floacist is. The Songstress’s avian scats and melodic hooks lodge easily in listeners’ heads, while The Floacist’s verses conjure an atmosphere of incense and richly brewed tea. The Floacist’s delivery, at once grounded and lyrical, gives the songs their emotional architecture. Without her, the material risks becoming merely pretty; with her, it acquires texture and dimension.
Their chemistry at NJPAC suggested they had never been apart, despite well-documented fallouts and reconciliations over the years. The layering of spoken word and melody was so precise it seemed achievable only through tireless rehearsal and deep connection. Unlike a decade ago, they allowed no segments for solo work — a tacit signal of unity, of egos set aside. The absence of explanation for their years apart, or their decision to reunite, felt deliberate. None was necessary. The performance itself supplied the narrative.

Marsha Ambrosius, left, and Natalie Stewart.
When they did speak, they reflected on the realization that “Ms. Stress” — written in their 20s — had, in retrospect, been addressed to themselves. The comment landed with a quiet poignancy, suggesting the distance between youthful ambition and lived experience. They also paid tribute to collaborators and friends who had died along the way in the only new piece they premiered, a restrained composition that hinted at the possibility of future material without announcing it outright.
They moved vibrantly through the set — which was drawn, with the exception of the new song, entirely from Floetic, effectively erasing their 2005 sophomore album, Flo’Ology. The omission felt conspicuous but not necessarily regrettable. That second record, while containing moments of charm, never quite matched the cohesion of the debut. Still, the decision underscored how singular Floetic remains — a document of a particular cultural moment, when neo-soul briefly occupied the center of mainstream R&B.
During “Sunshine,” they encouraged the audience to sing along. The response was initially tentative, prompting a gently teasing impatience from the stage. Yet those who joined in quickly gained a deeper appreciation of The Songstress’s vocal range, as the melody climbed higher than casual listeners might expect. The set concluded with the three now-classic singles — “Say Yes,” “Getting Late” and “Floetic” — and this time the crowd required little coaxing, the room filling with a communal warmth that felt both nostalgic and newly earned.
As the evening drew to a close, the sense of occasion lingered. Floetry has always been more than a one-album phenomenon; their influence can be heard in contemporary artists who blur the boundaries between poetry and song. One hopes that, this time, they recognize that, though each is formidable alone, together they achieve something rarer — something like magic. In an era of algorithmic playlists and fleeting trends, their reunion offered a reminder of the enduring power of chemistry: two voices, intertwined, finding their way back to one another.
Floetry will perform again at Prudential Hall at NJPAC in Newark, April 9 at 8 p.m., and at The Met in Philadelphia, April 10 at 8 p.m. Raheem DeVaughn and Teedra Moses will open the shows.
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