GHOST IN THE MACHINE...OTHERWISE KNOWN AS THE SOUL OF PHYLLIS HYMAN HOVERS. DECONSTRUCTING ADELE'S 30 BY SHELDON TAYLOR

                                                                           

                                                                                   

                                                   

 What's 2021's best-selling album? Here's a hint. It was released just weeks ago.

 For a second straight week---Adele's 30 sits atop the Billboard 100. Number one in nearly twenty countries, its first week numbers surpassed total sales of all music released this year. Occupying every corner of consumer real estate from streaming platforms to CD/vinyl racks in retail stores, 30  is the only album in 2021 to sell a million copies. 

Cannily released months before an already sold-out upcoming winter Vegas residency where she's projected to pocket 2M per show (there's 24 of them), Adele's uninterrupted trajectory continues after 13 years; surviving the transitional industry tidal wave of the late 2000s/early aughts capsizing the careers of many recording artists. On a recent podcast, she reflected on her career durability and her ability to maintain her "singular space of mega-stardom":

 We are a dying breed, There was like 10 of us You know, I don’t think there’ll ever be that many of us again at the top doing it the way we were doing it.… We came out before streaming. We came out before all the social media frenzies of, like, you know, ‘You’ve got five seconds to entertain; otherwise, get the f—k out.’ We existed in the old school.”

 There's some truth to her words. Of Adele's freshman class---only Drake has been able to match her longevity year-for year. Her "dying breed" comments---atypical of a younger artist oblivious to the historical occupational hazards of entertainers are premature just like her "Queen of Soul” and “the most popular soul singer in the world" coronations.

 Writer Robert Morales' 2007 Vibe ("Genie In") piece is an example of these premature statements. Morales proclaimed Amy Winehouse (another young UK prodigy) as the one who might just "resurrect vintage soul for the hip hop generation."  

In 2006, writer Amy Linden exposed the real dying breed in a Vibe piece ("Something Borrowed, Something Blue") exploring the plight of legacy R&B starts having to split hairs between classic and contemporary to remain relevant.

In 2008, Adele's arrival was a breath of fresh air for audiences weary of  hyper-sexuality and over-the-top energy in contemporary music. Ironically, public embrace for the singer's full-figure and throaty balladry contrasts with past rejection of long-discarded and similarly-endowed  talents Jennifer Holiday and Miki Howard---the kind driving Adele contemporary Jasmine Sullivan into premature retirement at age 24. 

Lavish praise for 30' is abound. The album is praised for its"powerhouse"songs, "intense" emotions and "bravura" performances---terms easily associated with R&B. 

Slivers of Black music give 30 an ear-catching hue that's deja vu. Weaving together a tapestry of Black music references, 30 never wades too deep in retro waters yet footprints of R&B's past remain embedded along its proverbial shore line.

 Listen close and take in the strains of Mary J. Blige's 808-and-heartbreak. Feel Beyonce's powerful declaration. Hear Aretha's shattered heart of glass. Bounce to Cry Your Eyes Out's vintage Motown-sback beats and skanking reggae bass and be transported back to Erykah Badu's layered jazz riffs from Baduizm (1997). 

Any Adele listener over the age of 45 will detect that Cry's churchy romp bears close resemblance to Natalie Cole's 1975 hit This Will Be (Everlasting Love).  

My Little Love's is 30's centerpiece. Boasting a soaring dramatic hook reminiscent of Earth Wind and Fire's After The Love Is Gone (1979)---it has an airy rumble is so Sade-esque it sounds like a lost track from the Stronger Than Pride (1988) sessions.

Love's tender moments between mother and child is akin to Stevie Wonder exuberant Isn't She Lovely (1976). In place of Stevie's bubbly joy over the birth of his daughter, Adele is caught in the grip of survivor's remorse ("I feel so bad to be here/when I'm so guilty") and mind-numbing depression ("I don't recognize myself/ in the coldness of daylight"). 

Love's a compositional kindred spirit To Zion (1998). 

At the top of her game,  Lauryn Hill chooses motherhood over a demanding music business while at the top of her game:  

"But everybody told me to be smart/they said Lauryn baby use your head/ I chose to use my heart."                                                                                                            

With a new divorce and prospects of single parenthood ("I'm holding on/mama's got a lot to learn") Adele looks to her son for salvation: 

I'm so far gone/and you're the only one/who can save me.

Adele's melancholy moods conjure up an image of her absolute precursor---Phyllis Hyman. 

Predating Adele by a generation, Hyman made a career of singing R&B-tinged torch songs. Operating under the industry radar alongside Donny Hathaway, Luther Vandross, Teena Marie, and Frankie Beverly---Hyman thrived back in the days when R&B revolved around its own orbit supported by a loyal fan base more valuable than platinum and gold.

Moving between musical styles at the speed of light, Hyman's supple voice flowed like water, pouring life into pop ballads ("Somewhere In My Lifetime"), mid-tempo R&B anthems ("Under Your Spell", "You Know How To Love Me"), smoky ballads  ("Betcha By Golly Wow"), jazz standards ("In A Sentimental Mood") and enchanting lyricism ("Magic Mona").

 A rare capsule of past, present, and future, Hyman was an extension of sophisticated singers like Lena Horne and Sarah Vaughn. Statuesque, elegant, and breathtakingly beautiful, she was the visual archetype for a kind of R&B that went down smooth and easy like Chivas Regal or Harvey's Bristol Cream---a quiet storm soundtrack for an upwardly-mobile African-Americans in dapper suits and gauzy dresses holding Vuitton clutch bags sipping Moet Chandon on ice.

Before Dionne Warwick, Aretha Franklin, Whitney Houston, Toni Braxton, and Alicia Keys passed through Arista's hit factory, Hyman was the testing ground for Clive Davis' star-making blueprint. Decades before Braxton and Deborah Cox---Hyman enjoyed her own two-year run on Broadway earning a Tony nomination for her performance in Sophisticated Ladies.

Hyman's seminal resume was major for its time: a Broadway appearance. Film cameo roles (usually as a performer). Movie soundtracks. An in-demand radio/TV jingle singer. High-profile collaborations with R&B and jazz elite. Procuring the services of Afro-Latina lawyer Glenda Gracia to handle her business/legal affairs was a bold move in a male-dominated industry. Modest by today's standards, Hyman's power moves were significant for Black females operating within narrow parameters of opportunities available to them.

Like 70's Diana Ross (see: "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", "The Theme From Mahogany" "Touch Me In The Morning", "Love Hangover"), Hyman's genre-blending talents could be considered an anomaly to those bent on citing Barbara Streisand, Celine Dione and Madonna as the celebratory standard. Hyman's arrival was a bit premature perhaps.

                                                              

                           

 

The bridge between soul music's early 70s golden era and mid-80s Great Black Pop Takeover, Hyman's career peaked as Whitney Houston and Anita Baker were ascending. Capable of releasing quality albums like Living All Alone alongside Baker's multi-platinum Rapture (raid your grandmother/mother/ auntie's music collection and you'll find both), Living All Alone failed to match the momentum of Baker's 8 million-selling commercial breakthrough.

Another six years would pass before Hyman earned her first gold album with the aptly-titled Prime of My Life (1991). Alongside gems The Answer Is You, Be Careful How You Treat My Love, and Let Somebody Love You, Hyman's final album recorded in her lifetime----I Refuse To Be Lonely would be forerunners to 30's pleading poetry.

Hailed a survivor triumphing over her struggles, Adele's 30 boldly discloses her frailties, heartbreaks, alcohol-induced hangovers, and fragile isolation---landing straight into the welcoming arms of an empathetic public sensitive to mental health issues in 2021. 

A generation ago, Hyman's world was so much different. Her bipolar mental challenges were kept within her immediate circle. Unlike today's transparent climate, self-disclosure was career suicide during that time. 

There were no Vegas residencies,  million-dollar paydays, or creative/revenue-generating outlets  (see: Mary J. Blige, Patti LaBelle, Beyonce, Rhianna) back in the 1980s for female R&B acts. Hyman was a semi-permanent fixture on BET  but there weren't many Black media institutions or social media outlets to filter and document her genius. 

Hyman's tendency for self-sabotage also led to career misses. Plagued by personal challenges or worn down by an industry where talents of equal or lesser pedigree moved past her on the rung to success, she continue to plunge deep into the abyss, fighting the good fight before eventually taking her own life hours before a performance.

There are no historical absolutes. Only cyclical reminders of what's come before. Well-deserved accolades aside---Adele's masterwork carries on Hyman's tradition. 

On a lighter note, Jasmine Sullivan re-emerged from a three-year hiatus in 2014, having regained her artistic confidence in her a manner that would make Philly home girl Hyman proud. Just as Hyman's devoted fans were the wind beneath her wings, Sullivan was the recipient of the same Black Star treatment, Her devotees engineered her critically-acclaimed comeback release, earning a pair of BET/Soul Train awards and reaching critical acclaim. 

Adele's (and Sullivan's) full-circle victories confirm that the ghost of Phyllis Hyman will always be a cog in the industry machine. Her spirit still hovers.