Now that I’m firmly ensconsed on the wrong side of forty – and,
truthfully, starting to enjoy it – it seems I’m noticing more and
more how important little pieces of history can get shoved aside by
circumstances or just the simple passage of time. How many young
record (oops, CD) buyers today know that Sting used to be in a
band? Or that Jakob Dylan’s dad is kind of famous, too? Or that
barely a generation ago, Martin Luther King Day was not a national
holiday, but rather a controversial proposal that also became the
subject of a song by one of the 1970s’ most successful musical
acts?
Stevie Wonder was quite possibly the most gifted, prolific and
serious-minded artist working the r & b and pop charts in the
’70s. On classic albums like
Innervisions and
Talking Book, he combined philosophical, socially-conscious
lyrics with grooving, keyboard-based funk, lightening things up in
between with his distinctly romantic, even sensuous ballads. After
peaking with 1976’s double-album opus
Songs in the Key of Life, though, Wonder took most of the
rest of the decade off from music. Aside from a somewhat odd
soundtrack album, Wonder didn’t issue another album of new music
for four years.
Hotter Than July arrived in 1980 complete with all the
elements that had made Wonder such a unique artist – the thoughtful
lyrics, the complex arrangements, the multiplicity of musical
approaches. The pulsating “Did I Hear You Say You Love Me” kicks
things off with one of the most danceable grooves Wonder ever
constructed, which he tops off with one of the most exuberant
vocals of his career. “All I Do” follows like a sequel, the gently
pleading seduction at the party’s end, covering the same lyrical
ground but in the context of a ballad as lush and romantic as
you’re ever likely to hear.
Born romantic that he is, though, Wonder doesn’t shy away from
exploring darker shades of emotion and the inevitable tangles
real-life relationships get into. In the troubled ballad “Rocket
Love,” he veers from ecstasy to agony as his romantic entreaties
are repeatedly rejected; in “I Ain’t Gonna Stand For It,” a steady
groove and clever metaphors can’t disguise the simmering fury of a
cuckolded husband. And “Lately” is possibly the most affecting
ballad of his career, a self-interrogation in which he puts the
blame squarely on himself for the fragile state of a relationship
he senses is crumbling around him.
The principal single from this album, “Master Blaster
(Jammin’),” is actually one of its lesser tracks, an attempt at a
social-unity anthem that offers a pleasant reggae backbeat and
horn-section accents, but never really ignites. It’s only toward
the end of the disc that Wonder finds his socio-political feet.
“Cash in Your Face” is up there with his 1972 classic “Living Just
Enough For the City” in terms of effectively portraying the
devastating human cost of racism.
But the closing “Happy Birthday” is the album’s true emotional
center, a buoyant song of praise to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and
his legacy that takes the unique approach of combining rhythmic
synthesizer tones with a soaring gospel chorus. As its author
hoped, it became the de facto theme song of the movement to
recognize King’s birthday as a national holiday. Knowing now how
the story ended, it’s an even more fitting finale to Stevie
Wonder’s best album of the ’80s.
