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| New album from B. Slade: Stereotype |
B. Slade is one of the most prolific artists of the decade.
Since abandoning his Tonéx persona, Brian Slade (better known as B. Slade) has been churning out mostly free digital music left and right. He's the latest in growing number of artists who are utilizing modern technology to distribute and sell their own music, cutting the parasitic record companies out of the equation altogether.
What's fascinating is how well-produced many of these efforts are given that there's no corporate backing. Slade and others are incentivized, however, to put out there best work as the music serves as an invitation to the live performances, where I'm certain the true bread and butter lies.
Slade's latest offering is called Stereotype, a collection of a staggering 20 songs, each one politicized in its own way. (Slade, for those of you who may not be aware, is the first black artist since Sylvester to come out of the closet and not attribute his sexuality to witchcraft or demonic possession, but, on the contrary, challenges the Christian establishment to broaden its criteria for divine love.) At the core of the songs—whether the lyrical subject matter is dancing or loving or just having a good time—is protest. Slade seems to be saying: "This is who I am. You can certainly take it or leave it, but know that I ain't going anywhere." Listen to "Blend: 1977" and you'll know.
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| The super-talented B. Slade |
His influences are obvious: There's a little bit of the Jacksons by way of Michael and Janet ("Baby, What'cha Gonna Do: 1979" and "Alive 3"); there's a little bit of Prince ("Silly Philly"); there's a little bit of Donny Hathaway ("Changes"); there are even Indian musical influences, which he manages to infuse with an Alabama swing ("Walla Walla Bing Bang" and "Prayin' 4 U"). And, of course, there's a strong gospel swagger ("God...").
It's all topped off by vocals that display impeccable control and incredible dexterity. In other words, Slade can sang his ass off.
You'll notice that some of the song titles are followed by a year. This must relate to a particular mood that Slade attempts to capture. For example, "All That I Am: 1976" has that same plaintive, somewhat melancholy orchestration that recalls music by acts like America, Carole King and Fleetwood Mac—all of whom were big in the 1970s ("Contagious" is as good an Earth, Wind & Fire track as I've ever heard).
In fact, the 70s—and all the triumph and defeat therein—seem to permeate the album. Nowhere is this more resolute and apparent than on the album's opus, "Hurting Each Other: 1975," a bluesy, but sanctified track that, when taken in tandem with the rest of the album, proves that this collection of songs could have easily been produced by Curtis Mayfield. You can call Stereotype a modern-day Claudine soundtrack. Or perhaps a 21st century Sparkle. Either applies.
In any event, it's a crowning achievement and a career-defining moment for Slade. If only we could somehow push this into the mainstream so that it gets the attention it so rightfully deserves. Many people could stand to hear the album's message: The nearly flawless Stereotype blurs the line between blessing and blasphemy, or rather endeavors to expand what can be categorized as the former and critique what has heretofore been relegated to the latter.
It's a lovely conviction.
Stereotype is available for purchase at the B. Slade band camp website.