Caught in the Carousel

Raphael Saadiq

The Way I See It
Sony

Raphael Saadiq

It's easy to feel sorry for Raphael Saadiq: Mostly known for being in a group whose name sounds like three models being summonsed for a shampoo commercial (only one of whom will put out and she's already dating the photographer); often ignored amid flashier R&B acts; currently dating largely unbearable banshee Joss Stone. It's also easy to see what Raphael Saadiq has going for him: Successful if not overwhelming musical career; fine singing voice; pretty-boy features; most of the brains behind the critical and commercial success in the late 1990's with Tony, Toni, Tone and D'Angelo; and best of all, a new solo album that when it reaches its highs it pumps through the body, the blood, the hips, the feet and long, long into the night you realize you can't get these songs out of your head.

In an era of iTunes singles, it's nice to see something resembling (albeit slightly) a concept album. Saadiq is reaching into the Motown era and he manages to pull out new gems from that long-abandoned mine. Tracks such as "Staying in Love," "Let's Take A Walk," and "100 Yard Dash" are irresistibly funky and groove hungry and seem as fresh as they do classic.

But the great thing about this album is the melding together of old school (truly old school) melodies with contemporary subject matter. "Keep Marching" could have been Obama's campaign anthem—it is defiant and hopeful and bold. And then there is the one song that is a mess on paper but a masterpiece on record: "The Big Easy." Talk about beats! The insidiously-infectious thump driving this stunner comes courtesy of The Infamous Young Spodie and the Rebirth Brass Band. It is, at first glance, and these three years after Katrina, a celebration, a revivalist masterstroke. But Saadiq won't allow it. What floats to the surface instead is a heartbreaking tale of the loss of a child in the ensuing days of the flood that shamed this country. A dicey proposition to play the groove of the track against the somber message. And of course Saadiq takes it even further: the song's narrator is not a boyfriend or lover but the child's father and he is a man with only one child. And it matters not if that child is 5 or 15 or 15 or 50—that man's only child, we the listeners understand as we dance ourselves into weary exhaustion, is dead.

Saadiq should have stopped there. He really should have stopped there. But he doesn't. We soon get a duet with Joss Stone: "Just One Kiss." It is not a disaster, a la Seal's 2007 duet with Heidi Klum, but it does beg the question "Who cares?" An artist with the chops Saadiq has doesn't need this. He doesn't need to sing with the younger Stone. And he certainly does not need to shout out to Stevie Wonder on the otherwise winning "Never Give You Up" (a song where his smooth vocals are actually outdone by his latest protégé CJ Hilton). There is frankly something annoying about a great song being interrupted so we can have Saadiq "invite Mister Stevie Wonder to my album." "Stevie" then offers a harmonica solo that is neither here nor there, neither good nor bad. I mean, I can't see the purpose. I suppose "Stevie" still matters and has been forgiven for so many missteps over the last twenty years, but what's the point of having a guest harmonica-ist?

Perhaps the appearance of "Stevie" is in fact not a shout out, but a warning shot to those unfortunate to listen to the bonus track, an ill-conceived remix of one of the album's better tracks, "Oh Girl." The album version is a tinkling-pianoed pastiche of a certain era of this country's musical legacy. Saadiq's voice is young and almost newly pubescent; it is sweater vests and poodle skirts and it's really quite winning. The remix, however, involves Jay-Z, one of the most unmelodic, clumsy singers/rappers/bunions on the recent music landscape. It is horrible. It is unlistenable. It is, I'm sorry to say, the kind of mistake that boots albums off year-end Best Of lists.

And that's a terrible shame and a colossal error, because at its best, The Way I See It is well-nigh masterful. Too bad the artist didn't trust himself and himself alone.

—Thomas Cooney