Vinyl Release

About a year ago the writer, editor and founder of Rolling Stone magazine Jann Wenner was unceremoniously booted off the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame Foundation board of directors. His misdemeanour? In an interview with the New York Times about his new book The Masters, featuring conversations he’d conducted with artists such as John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Mick Jagger, etc, he claimed that he’d decided not to include any women or black artists because, ‘none of them were articulate enough on this intellectual level’.

MIssing in action

Wenner then went on to add insult to injury by saying: ‘For public relations sake, maybe I should have gone and found one black and one woman artist to include here that didn’t measure up to that same historical standard, just to avert... criticism’.

It’s unlikely Helen Folasade Adu would have been much surprised by Wenner’s loathsome idiocy. After all, born in Nigeria, raised in Essex, she’s been facing up to nonsense like his pretty much all her life. Not only that. Take a look at this little lot: Adele, Dua Lipa, Charli XCX, Rita Ora, Raye, Amy Winehouse, Kate Bush, Lily Allen, Annie Lennox, Dusty Springfield and Shirley Bassey. What do they have in common? They are all mentioned in lists compiled online to represent the most famous British-based female singers of all time. What else do they have in common? They are not Sade.

Sade, you see, despite having sold in excess of 50 million records and having been appointed a CBE, has been conspicuously overlooked by every single list that I came across. I was tempted to call her omission inexplicable, but there are a few significant factors which may explain why she’s not been appreciated the way she surely should.

Firstly, when the London band Pride morphed into Sade (the band) in 1983 they were introduced to the general public not via the usual channels of the day – ie, the music press – but through a front cover story written by one of their mates for the nascent style magazine The Face. The headline read: ‘Sade, the Face of 1984’. Not, note, the sound of 1984. That cover could be said to have done them a disservice as it roused suspicions among the more traditional media that Sade (the person), looking as stunningly gorgeous as a fashion model, was someone not to be taken artistically seriously.

Easy does it

Secondly, the band were more night-clubby than gig-y, hanging with the New Romantic crowd and yet musically far removed from their ilk. While the predominant trend was for synth-driven, flashy pop, Sade’s music was somewhat of a throwback to smooth jazz, almost easy listening, so out of kilter with what was perceived as musically appealing and viably commercial. In fact, when the fledgling band’s manager took their demos around to record companies, every label turned them down. ‘They said the tracks were too long and too jazzy’, says Robin Millar, who hooked up with them as producer. ‘They said: “Don’t you know what’s happening? Everything is electronic drums now. Tears For Fears, Depeche Mode...”’.

Undeterred, the band organised a showcase gig at the hip club Heaven. It’s claimed 1000 people had to be turned away at the door. The next day they were inundated with offers from record companies, most of which laid out plans to send the singer to the US to work with big producers like Quincy Jones. But Sade wasn’t having it. She and the band had never been into a recording studio before and were comfortable working with Millar, so instead of chasing the money, they took a deal with Epic that allowed them to stay put in London and do their own thing.

In the groove

Over six weeks at the Power Plant Studios in Willesden, they recorded the album Diamond Life. When it was released in July of ’84, it sounded so accomplished that many thought the band – Stuart Matthewman on sax and guitar, Andrew Hale on keyboards, Paul Denman on bass, Dave Early and Paul Cooke on drums – surely couldn’t have actually played on it. It had all the hallmarks of seasoned pros, precise yet in the groove. Tongues wagged.

Another probable reason that Sade Adu doesn’t get the accolades she deserves is because her vocal style isn’t flashy or acrobatic. She’s not singing through hoops to make an impression. ‘I’ve always thought there are certain voices that make people feel better: Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole and Ella Fitzgerald’, says Millar. ‘And when I first heard Sade I really felt she had it... she also had an amazing effect on people in the studio, both men and women – her charisma and how she looked.’

‘Her voice entered the room like a chill. But her strength was in her ability to render truth and desire concisely’, is how one critic put it. Bandmember Andrew Hale added: ‘All the singers that Sade liked, they weren’t necessarily technically perfect, but you hear their life in their music’.

Molten soul

So what was Diamond Life? Jazz? Pop? Lounge? R&B? Easy listening? Funk? Some called it sophisti-pop. The band preferred soul. The singles – the smoochy ‘Your Love Is King’, the irresistibly cool ‘Smooth Operator’, the socio-poignant ‘When Am I Going To Make A Living’ – plus a cover of Timmy Thomas’s ‘Why Can’t We Live Together’ and deeper, more personal cuts like ‘Sally’ and ‘Frankie’s First Affair’ add up to an album that’s as near to perfection as anyone could reasonably accomplish.

Here are just a few of the things critics said about Diamond Life when it was first released and with hindsight: ‘[A] Miami Vice-ready debut connecting the dots between Duran Duran and Luther Vandross, between early solo Sting and late Roxy Music’; ‘a Wardour Street Billie Holiday’; ‘the missing link between torch ballads and trip-hop’; and ‘the type of molten soul expected to backdrop a film noir’. DJs labelled it ‘Quiet storm’ music.

What it definitely is, though, is a band doing what they do far better than anyone else. It also opened doors for a raft of similarly inclined artists such as D’Angelo, Jill Scott, Alicia Keys and Erykah Badu.

‘Diamond Life wasn’t meant to be about money and flash cars and upward mobility stuff’, said Paul Denman. ‘It was a comment on living a hard life but a life that shone bright like a diamond.’ Salut!

Re-release Verdict

Sade’s nine-song debut album won the 1985 Brit Award for Best British Album, reached No 2 in the UK album charts, and has gone on to sell more than ten million copies. It’s now reissued on 180g black vinyl by Epic [EPC 26044] in a gatefold sleeve ‘meticulously reproduced in exact detail’ to mimic the 1984 original. The half-speed mastering, undertaken at Abbey Road Studios, was based upon ‘high resolution digital transfers of the stereo master mixes’ HFN.