New Orleans Times Picayune--Born Helen Folasade Adu to a Nigerian father and an English mother, the future Sade moved from Nigeria to England at age 4. In 1981, she joined a British Latin soul band called Pride.
Sade Adu fronts the band that bears her name at the New Orleans Arena on Friday.
She and three other members of Pride eventually broke away and formed Sade, the band. s*xy, smooth and sung by an exotic beauty, Sade’s music resonated deeply with a worldwide audience. The best songs — “Smooth Operator,” “The Sweetest Taboo,” “No Ordinary Love” — set the smoky, lower register of Sade Adu’s voice against a sleek synthesis of smooth jazz, contemporary R&B and funk.
Sade, 52, has steadfastly followed her own path and timetable. In a nearly 30-year career, she’s crafted only six studio albums. Before 2010’s “Soldier of Love,” she hadn’t released a full album since 2000’s “Lover’s Rock.”
To promote “Soldier of Love” and "The Ultimate Collection," a new DVD and two-CD package, Sade has embarked on a 54-date North American tour. The elaborate production includes enormous LED screens and a nine-piece band. R&B pianist and songwriter John Legend opens all dates, including a stop at the New Orleans Arena on Friday, July 22.
In a recent phone interview, Sade, well-spoken and cordial, discussed her creative process, why she likes loud music, and the enduring influence of Black Sabbath.
TP: Given the long breaks between your projects, how do you decide it’s time to embark on another album and tour cycle?
Sade: Every time somebody asks me this question, I give a different answer, partly because I don’t really know what that deciding moment is. It’s a series of events that triggers it.
Mainly it’s that there’s no crisis in my life. When I go in the studio, I cut myself off from the world. That’s the only way I can do it. If there’s nothing too important in my life, if my life allows it, then that could be the time. That’s what precipitates it: Calm in my own life.
When you do go into the studio, are you hyper-aware of what people consider to be your sound, and does that cause you to rethink certain decisions?
On the contrary, really. I try my hardest to divorce myself from all reality, and that being the one that could most disturb the flow.
I try to use feelings to dominate the direction of everything we do. If it feels right, then it must be OK. Even if it’s a mistake and it feels right, then you’ve made the right decision, because you believed you were doing the right thing at the time.
Given the consistency of the musicians, there will be continuity in the sound.
There’s nine of us onstage. The main core of the band is (guitarist and saxophonist) Stuart Matthewman, (keyboardist) Andrew Hale and (bassist) Paul S. Denman. We were the initial members of the band years back.
The musicians we work with, we see them as members of the band on the road. They’re not there all the time, and they work with other people, but when they’re with us, they’re part of the family.
How much trust do you put in your core musicians?
None. (laughs) When we’re in the studio, what we do just sort of happens and evolves without pragmatism. I can make my mistakes in front of them without any form of judgment, or anything that will reflect on their opinion of me as a person or as a musician. I can completely, 100 percent let myself go.
Making music or any form of art is making many mistakes, and then knowing when you’ve done the right thing, and making that choice. It’s all about choices. If you’re making a sculpture, you start with a piece of clay and you chip away. It’s what’s left that matters.
Being with a band is that for me. They trust me and my choices. We know that between us, we will somehow make the right decision. We many times do the wrong thing. You just have to know when the moment happens.
When you’re making that sculpture, your chisel is the most important.
I think I’ve got the most sensitive “naff-ometer.” Is that an American expression as well, when something is “naff”? “Naff” means “tacky.” Whatever makes you cringe. What may make your toes lightly twinge, mine might be completely coiled up.
If I don’t like it, then it won’t go on the CD. But if anybody else didn’t like it, it wouldn’t, either. If all four of us are happy with what we have, then we know it’s going to work somehow.
I’ve probably got the most critical ear. It’s hard to be objective. I’m the only girl as well. (laughs)
Because your name is the band name, does that give you more say-so?
It’s nothing like that, really. The only reason it’s my name is because we heralded from another band, Pride. We wanted that band to be the mother; we hoped to all get signed (to a recording contract) as a package, and then from that there would different groups within that group.
But it worked out that the record company didn’t want to sign the whole shebang. We never stopped to think, “Should we rename it?” It was too late. We were already known as Sade.
How much of a challenge is it to render music as intimate as yours in an arena?
When we’re in the studio, we listen to music really loudly. When you turn our music up, you hear something else. You feel something differently. There are different nuances.
For us, going into an arena is more like the conception moment of our music, because we always work so loud in the studio. I suppose that’s why our music is a lot about the spaces, because when you work with that kind of volume, you do hear the spaces.
We’ve been sometimes misconceived as a band that sounds good in the background. I’m all against that. We come alive in an arena.
Is there room for improvisation onstage?
There’s subtle changes. Each of us within our own performances bends and undulates. There are a couple moments where the path strays off, but the path is written mainly by the contours of the show. We’re probably more expressive than we’ve ever been before. It’s a more powerful show than we’ve ever had before.
Because you’ve gotten better at presenting your music?
Probably that, yeah. And not afraid of making mistakes. Each passage in the show is the same color as the song.
Despite your fondness for loud music, you don’t do Led Zeppelin covers.
No. (laughs) But I did actually grow up in an area where Led Zeppelin and... I’m trying to think of all the other heavy metal bands that were around at the time...
Black Sabbath?
Black Sabbath. Yeah, Sabbath. They were the background of my youth in a way. Obviously I looked for something else. Probably partly because I’m black, I looked for somewhere where I felt I belonged a bit more. The Last Poets (a pioneering 1960s collective of African-American poets and musicians) and Gil Scott-Heron were my Black Sabbath. It’s in there somewhere, even a bit of Sabbath.
Do you cut yourself off from contemporary music when you’re recording your own?
A lot of musicians stop listening to music when they’re making music. I do, anyway. It’s almost like there’s not really space or time to do that, because you live and breathe what you’re doing. In fact, it’s almost like you run for cover and shelter into peace.
You’re doing more interviews than in the past. What changed your mindset?
I’ve always done quite a few when we’ve promoted an album, but not on the scale that most people do. After a while, you’re under pressure from your record company and management to do the very best to expose yourself, so your music gets a chance to be seen by the masses rather than a few.
I’ve also always done a few interviews when we’ve been on the road. This time, only because my management said, “You want as many people to know that you’re doing this. This is a huge production. You may never do this again. Make an effort and come out of your little hide-y hole and let people know you’re here.”
I may never do this again, it’s true. It’s a great experience for us, and I think it’s a great experience for our audience. It’s nice not to let that go.
Posted By: Siebra Muhammad
Saturday, July 23rd 2011 at 5:38PM
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