The Best Of Sade
The Band: Sade Adu, Vocals; Andrew Hale, Keyboards; Stuart Matthewman, Guitars; Paul Denman, bass.
1994 Sony Music
««« Sade Lovers Rock
Happy, Horny Sade...
From 1984 to 1992 the sexiest chick in rock had to be Sade, the big-lipped, slit-eyed, half-nubian high priestess of funky latin groove dance music that slid around your feet, slithered up your leg, tightened around your heart and offered you an apple.
It was like the girl from Ipanema finally turned around, and she had a mike in her hand.
Is it a crime to want you? Is it a crime to want me, too?
It was unnerving to watch this exotic creature with the full moon face and fantastic figure smolder briefly, catch the groove, and then sing the most outrageous lyrics -- confessions you would kill for, promises you would die for, paradises you suddenly knew existed.
Second time is not quite what it seems. It's never as good as the first time. Second time will never do the dream.
And that sound. Her whispery, flatline voice against a killer group of latin jazz funksters and the hired gun percussionists. Her songs were fixated on the starts of relationships, those heady, uncontrollable hormone hits of attraction, exploration, discovery, joy, transfixion. And the band pumps it out like a waterbed on steroids, waves of cool heat flowing out and around in hypnotic, head-bopping syncopation.
I can't hate you. Although I have tried. I still really, really love you. Love is stronger than pride.
But there was more. It was her. Star baby. What was the attraction? I've heard some critics call it a combo of harlot and maternal. Could be. A lot of her lyric is of a warm and giving nature. What do you get when you cross a gorgeous sophisticate with a submissive sextoy? Whatever it is, it's got the attention of men. One suspects there's not a lot of straight female Sade fans. Sexy angel in the body of the haughty high priestess of love... I'd worship her myself (with the right drugs).
There's nothing like you and I, baby. This is no ordinary love.
These are songs that take you back to first loves, first promises, first nights. The high energy, total emotion of new love. The magic, one suspects, is in the personal, one-to-one intimacy of her songs.
You take my hand. Show me how deep love can be.
How would you feel if you were confronted with that line in the back of a Rolls Royce? The unattainable seeks you out. Another definition of magic.
These are songs you can dance to, write to, dream to, wash the dishes to, drive to, surf the net to, write reviews about... but probably not fuck to. You wanna stay focussed.
© Rick Ojo McGrath JAN/2001
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