Anniversaries: Forever by Spice Girls
It’s the closing chapter of the Spice Girls saga—an album that may never inspire the same giddy affection as their debut, but one that, in its own polished, reflective way, truly is forever.
This third record opens with an image that tells the story: the four remaining Spice Girls clasping each other “as if they were holding on for dear life” on the album cover. The once-unstoppable British girl group entered the new millennium on shaky ground. Just a few years earlier, Spice Girls had ignited a global pop phenomenon with Spice (1996) and Spiceworld (1997), preaching “Girl Power” with cheeky humor and an infectious camaraderie. But by the time of Forever, pop trends had shifted, their lineup had shrunk (charismatic leader Geri “Ginger Spice” Halliwell departed in 1998), and burgeoning solo pursuits splintered each member’s focus. The teen-pop boom the Spices helped spark was now roaring without them—*NSYNC and Britney Spears ruled the charts—and the Spice Girls were determined to prove they could evolve and keep pace. Their third album’s ambition was clear: reinvent the Spice sound for a new era, without losing the magic that made them icons of the ‘90s. Forever was a sleek R&B-inflected makeover that aimed for maturity and modernity, even at the cost of the group’s trademark playfulness.
To helm this reinvention, Spice Girls enlisted superstar American producers known for shaping contemporary R&B. Chief among them was Rodney “Darkchild” Jerkins, fresh off hits with Brandy and Destiny’s Child, who was recruited to produce and co-write the bulk of Forever. Also on board were the legendary Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis, giving the project an enviable pedigree in urbane pop craftsmanship. The group that once sang over bouncy Euro-pop beats now pursued a “digitized R&B-pop” sound, dominating the charts at the turn of the millennium. Forever emerged as a “silky, monochromatic” collection that traded the trashy, poppy fun of Spice and Spiceworld for a more elegant, polished vibe. Clearly influenced by American R&B girl groups like TLC and Destiny’s Child, the Spice Girls were consciously classing up their image and music.
“Holler,” the lead single, announced this transformation from its very first seconds: synthetic strings slither in, a low voice whispers “Darkchild 2000,” and a skittering hip-hop beat kicks off a sultry groove. Over this modern club beat, the Spice Girls sing in smooth harmonies about physical seduction—“I wanna make you holler and make you scream my name,” they purr, “start from the bottom and work your way up slowly.” It was a striking pivot from the bubblegum innocence of “Wannabe.” Gone were the days of sporty kicks in track pants or baby-doll giggles; in the “Holler” video, all four Spices don sleek black leather and smoky eyes, moving with calm, mature confidence.
The group was clearly intent on zeroing in on the effortless cool of Black pop culture with this new slangy R&B posture. At least on the surface, the Spices’ embrace of Rodney Jerkins’ urban-pop sensibilities clicked in giving them a contemporary sheen. The production is state-of-the-art Y2K R&B, all syncopated beats and glossy vocal layers, aligning the Spice brand with the likes of Destiny’s Child or Toni Braxton. Songs like “Tell Me Why” throb with Jerkins’s signature electronic strings and club-ready bass, while “Get Down With Me” and “If You Wanna Have Some Fun” flirt with funky, late-’90s club vibes. And as always, Spice Girls themselves co-wrote the songs, determined to be seen as artists in control of their music. On paper, Forever made “all the right moves”—a famous pop production team, a more mature R&B style, and plenty of songwriting input from the women themselves.
Yet for all these savvy ingredients, something of the old Spice magic was lost in the execution. At the time, many critics and fans felt the new R&B direction clashed with the group’s effervescent personality more than it clicked. In trying to project grown-up sophistication, the Spice Girls risked trading away the very qualities that endeared them to millions: their unpolished exuberance and cheeky sense of fun. Forever often radiates a careful self-consciousness, as if the group were hyper-aware of having to prove its “maturity.” Part of this more muted feeling stemmed from the group’s internal dynamics at the time. Spice Girls hadn’t just shed a member; they had also, in a sense, shed some of their unity.
By 2000, each Spice’s life was pulling in different directions. Melanie C (Sporty), having released her hit solo album Northern Star in 1999, was reveling in newfound independence and battling personal depression, which made her less invested in the group’s activities. In fact, Mel C limited her participation in promoting Forever, leaving Victoria (Posh), Emma (Baby), and Melanie B (Scary) to handle most appearances as a trio. The foursome still “hadn’t lost their chemistry creatively when they came together,” as one retrospective noted, but their interpersonal dynamic was in flux. Off-stage, they were no longer the inseparable best friends portrayed in their movie and early press; they were businesswomen with diverging priorities. This translated subtly into the music. Unlike earlier Spice records, where you could often hear the girls bantering, trading lines, and laughter, Forever feels more professionally compartmentalized. Each member takes her turn delivering polished vocals, but the playful group interplay is toned down. The album’s perfectly stacked harmonies and alternating lead parts are technically strong, yet they could be the work of any competent vocal group.
Ironically, the one track that truly does recapture the old Spice Girls magic on this album is also the one least touched by the new R&B regime. “Goodbye,” the final song (and emotional centerpiece) of Forever, stands apart in both origin and impact. Unlike the Darkchild-heavy cuts preceding it, “Goodbye” was co-written with the Spice Girls’ longtime pop collaborators (Richard “Biff” Stannard and Matt Rowe) back in late 1998. It’s a sweeping, sentimental ballad (all piano, strings, and heartfelt harmony) originally crafted as the group’s farewell to Geri Halliwell after her sudden departure. The rest of Forever was meant to plant the Spice Girls’ flag in the pop future, though fate had other plans.
In context, the album arrived at a turbulent moment in pop history that the Spice Girls themselves had helped create. Just a few years prior, the group’s unprecedented success had blazed the trail for a resurgence of frothy, unabashed teen pop in the late ‘90s. The explosion of acts like Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and even a new wave of British girl groups such as All Saints, B*Witched, and Atomic Kitten could all trace some spark back to the Spice Girls’ infectious energy and success. But by 2000, the teen-pop landscape had evolved. Ironically, the younger stars who followed the Spice template were skewing edgier and more overtly sexual than the Spice Girls (now adult women in their mid-20s) ever had during their own late-‘90s reign.
In some respects, the Spice Girls suddenly seemed almost old-fashioned—the big sisters who were comparatively wholesome in a pop world they helped manufacture. Sensing this, Forever finds the group attempting to play catch-up with contemporary trends they themselves had set in motion. They watch Destiny’s Child dominate R&B-pop and duly adopt a similar polished sound; they see younger pop acts pushing the envelope and trade in their candy-colored image for sophisticated monotones. On the feisty track “Right Back at Ya,” the Spice Girls even deliver a self-referential rallying cry to assert their continued relevance. Over a stuttering beat, Melanie B pointedly raps, “We started a trend they all imitate/A new generation of Spice we created,” reminding listeners (and rivals) that the Spice Girls did it first. “Never forget the days when we were all wannabes,” she adds, winking at their own origin story while staking a claim as pop pioneers. It’s a defiant and revealing moment—the group openly acknowledging the teen-pop wave they inspired, while trying to assert dominance over it. However, the very need to proclaim their legacy underscores the uphill battle Forever faced. The Spice Girls were simultaneously architects of the late-‘90s pop moment and, by 2000, outsiders to it. In the three-year gap since their last album, a new generation of teens had come of age, and the Spice Girls—once the freshest faces in pop—suddenly found themselves perceived as yesterday’s news struggling to sound current.
Does Forever deserve a re-evaluation? Probably so—at least to acknowledge its place in pop history as more than a footnote. The album was a product of its turbulent time, and it suffered for arriving at the tail end of a pop cycle the Spice Girls themselves helped kick off. Heard today, free from 2000s expectations, Forever can be appreciated for its lush production and the bittersweet context it encapsulates: the end of an era when the Spice Girls were not just pop stars but cultural ambassadors of fun. There is a melancholic beauty in this record’s polished melancholy. At the same time, one must admit that Forever will always carry a tinge of what might have been.
It remains, in many ways, a bittersweet epilogue to one of the ‘90s most irrepressible phenomena. The Spice Girls’ earlier albums were joyous shout-alongs that defined a moment in youth culture; Forever is quieter, more introspective, and indeed more somber—the sound of the party winding down. But suppose one listens beyond the shadow of Spice and Spiceworld. In that case, there are merits to be found—strong vocals, classy songwriting, and the bold attempt of a bubblegum pop group to grow into a contemporary R&B act ahead of its time. In the end, perhaps Forever is a record worthy of a kinder second look and a bittersweet footnote. It’s the closing chapter of the Spice Girls saga—an album that may never inspire the same giddy affection as their debut, but one that, in its own polished, reflective way, truly is forever.