Puffy 50s hair like the late Winehouse, the voice of a slightly hoarse Duffy and the sound of ex-refugee Lauryn Hill. There is all this in the first studio album of a petite XNUMX-year-old Belgian named Sanne Putseys, aka Selah Sue. The talent is there, but she hasn't lacked luck.
A barely twenty-year-old Selah brings her songs, all written between the ages of 13 and 19, around Belgium, a country that, while giving us unparalleled events such as the Pukkelpop, it is certainly not the nerve center of international music. Between 2008 and 2010 he participated in some festivals, some talent contests, but real success doesn't seem to want to arrive. In 2010 it happened that Prince, who recently had a lot of fun in the role of the talent scout (see Diane Birch and Janelle Monae), found himself passing through Antwerp: it is love at first sight. For Selah it is enough to take part in the opening act of the Belgian concert of one of the most powerful American stars and she finds herself catapulted to the top of the charts, surrounded by big hits with which she would never have imagined working with.
Collaborations start from the first track, This World. The sensual bass of Christopher Meredith, bassist of the historic album The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, drags the low bpm of the verse towards the richer refrain, in which a wind orchestra can finally explode.
I wouldn't have been surprised if Peace of mind had been a b-side of the album The Score, absolute masterpiece of Fugees. Selah Sue is a very bitter Lauryn in this purely hip hop track. There are all the 90s that we loved so much: a drum that sounds like a beatbox, a mc and a vocalist who alternate and compete, all perfectly directed by a DJ who plays, goes back, mixes, plays with filters and teaches us what hip hop was before it got dirty in the mainstream.
Deprived of the superfluous and not very incisive intro of the previous version present in the EP Black Part Love, Ragamuffin becomes a wonderful trailblazer. In the first single extract the Belgian brings out the most Jamaican there can be in a white face. We hear her changing accent, wearing a new skin, the black one. Selah's muffin differs (and not a little) from the classic dancehall, embracing a more acoustic and purely reggae aspect. We recognize the short intro on the radio, in which the voice is accompanied almost only by the acoustic guitar without any unnatural artificial reverb, as often happens in his live shows (intro in which, inevitably, the medium-high frequencies are the master ). We want to sing it to the end and again.
Judging by the vocoder of Crazy vibes, it seems impossible that the author was just 5 years old while my generation was literally consuming the eponymous first album by black street.
After that in Black Part Love the more attentive will have recognized a (involuntary?) quote in the opening slide of Hendrix's Little Wing, track number 5 leaves some space for a series of ballads, marking the end of what can be described as the most dancing part of the album.
Although every single piece highlights Selah Sue's talent as an interpreter, the tension created by the chromatic variation of fifths of the organ of Please, a precious featuring with the former Gnarls Barkley Cee Lo Green, is the only positive note of the four ballads that take us into a more introspective dimension that perhaps Selah, for his tender age, does not yet have the maturity to explore. Not even the superfine ear of Meshell Ndegeocello, who oversees the recording and mastering of Mommy, manages to save a song with obvious arpeggios and a tearjerking text dedicated to a sweet mother (as always in songs). “Mama, I love you” the Spice Girls sang back in 1996. Selah can certainly do better.
And indeed it has already done so. In fact, one wonders why Break, EP's best-selling ballad Black Part Love, hasn't been included in this series of poignant (sure?) slow tunes.
The same goes for Explanations and Summertime. Open chords in easy beach strumming or romantically arpeggiated, filled here and there by a few notes of violin or piano: nothing really memorable. The soporific impact would have been less evident if the tracks had been "diluted" among the other songs. A huge mistake, in short, the order of the tracklist.
With Crazy Sufferin Style luckily the pace returns. The reggae style upbeat guitar and a decontextualized but very apt steel drum smell of Jamaica.
The album reaches its peak just before the end. The penultimate trace, Fyah Fyah, is a little gem, a delicate r & b strongly influenced by the queen of nu soul, Erykah Badu. The distortion of the spelling suggests the confidence that Selah has with the genre. Two guitars, one acoustic and one electric, at times hendrixian, in others more funk, dialogue in the most beautiful piece of the record. Stealing here and there from the best R&B albums of the 90s, Selah's voice is a skilled fire-eater who plays with flames (fyah, in jargon) and miraculously manages not to burn himself.
The album closes in an attempt to explore a more markedly electronic way. Just because I do it is more spoken than sung, the voice is often in doubt, the repetitive melody as if it were a Tricky-style trip hop hybrid in which to alienate oneself.
One wonders: when collaborating with producers and artists of the caliber of those that Selah has met along his path, is it still possible to go wrong? How much of the young Belgian is there and how much of the professionals who have guided her step by step in the making of this album?
We will see in the next few years whether or not this angel face is able to walk on its own legs.
Thumbs up for: This World, Ragamuffin, Fyah Fyah
Thumbs down for: Mommy, Explanations, Summertime
SELAH SUE - SELAH SUE
Produced by: Because Music (Indie label)
TRACKLIST:
1. This World
2. Peace of Mind
3. raggamuffin
4. Crazy vibes
5. Black Part Love
6. Mommy
7. explanations
8. Please (ft. Cee Lo Green)
9. Summertime
10. Crazy Sufferin Style
11. Fyah Fyah
12. Just Because I Do
A 50's bouffant hairstyle like the late Winehouse's, a hoarser Duffy-like voice and a sound that reminds us of the former refugee Lauryn Hill. All of the above is contained inside the first studio album by a twenty-two-year-old Belgian girl called Sanne Putseys, better known by her stage name Selah Sue. Surely is she talented, but indeed she did make good use a little bit of luck.
A barely twenty Selah takes her songs, written between her 13 and 19 years, around Belgium, a country that, even if it promotes incomparable events like Pukkelpop, is not the international music headquarters at all. Between 2008 and 2010 she takes part in some festivals, some talent contests, but the big break doesn't seem to come. In 2010, as luck would have it, Prince, who lately has been really enjoying putting himself in the talent scout's shoes (for example, Diane Birch and Janelle Monae), would have been popping out to Antwerp by chance: it's love at first sight. It only takes her being involved in the opening act for the Belgium date of one of the most important American star to find herself thrown to the top chart position, surrounded by big fishes whom she would never think she could have ever worked with.
The collaborations start from the first track, This World. The sensual bass by Christhoper Meredith, bass player for the historical album “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill”, drags the not too fast verse bpm to the richer chorus, where finally a wind orchestra can explode.
I would not have been surprised if Peace of mind had been a b-side from the album The Score, an absolute masterpiece by Fugees. Selah Sue is a very green Lauryn in this merely hip hop track. All the 90's we loved are there: a drum that sounds like a beatbox, a mc and a vocalist that switch and challenge themselves, all perfectly directed by a dj who plays, rewinds, mixes, has fun with filters and teaches us what hip hop was before getting its hands dirty in the mainstream.
Deprived of the unnecessary and weak intro for the older version included within the EP Black Part Love, Ragamuffin becomes an amazing forerunner. For the first released single the Belgian singer brings out the best Jamaican sound a white face could ever do. We hear her changing her accent, wear a new skin, a black one. Selah's muffin differs (and not so little) from the standard dancehall, embracing a more acoustic and pure reggae sound aspect. We recognize it by the short intro on the radio, where her voice is almost only accompanied by the acoustic guitar with no artificial reverb effect, as it often happens during her live performances (an intro where, necessarily, the mid-high frequencies lord it). We want to sing it again and again and until the end.
Judging by the vocoder in Crazy vibes, it seems impossible that its author was only 5 years old when my generation was literally consuming the first self-titled album by black street. After the smartest ones would have recognized an (involuntary?) quote from Jimi Hendrix's Little Wing for the initial slide in Black Part Love, the track n.5 gives a little room for a series of ballads, bringing what we can describe as the dance part of the album to an end.
Although every single track displays Selah Sue's skill as an interpreter, the tension recreated by the fifth chromatic scale variation by the organ in Please, preciously featuring the former Gnarls Barkley Cee Lo Green, is the only real positive thing about the four ballads which bring us to a more introspective dimension that perhaps Selah, due to her young age, is not yet so mature to explore. Neither the Meshell Ndegeocello's masterly ear, supervising the recording and mixing process for Mommy, is able to save the track from quite expected arpeggios and from a tear-jerking lyric dedicated to a very sweet mother (as usual in songs). In 1996 the Spice Girls sang “Mama, I love you”. Surely Selah can do better.
Actually she already did it. An obvious question would be why Break, the best turned-out ballad in the Black Part Love EP, wasn't included in this series of touching (really?) slow tracks. Same thing is for explanations and Summertime. Open chords in easy beach strumming style or romantic arpeggios, filled with some violin or piano notes here and there: nothing really remarkable. The soporific impact would have been less palpable had those tracks been “blended” among the others. A big mistake, really, in terms of tracklist.
Luckily enough Crazy Sufferin Style brings the rhythm back. The reggae-style guitar and an out-of-context as well as really effective steel drum give it a Jamaican flavor. The album gets to its key moment just towards the end. The last but one track, Fyah Fyah, is a little gem, a delicate r&b that is strongly influenced by the queen of the nu soul, Eryka Badu. The misspelled diction shows Selah's confidence with this genre. Two guitars, an acoustic and an electric one, with Hendrix resonances here and more funky there, have a conversation within the most beautiful track on the album. Stealing here and there from the best 90's r&b productions, Selah's voice is a skilled fire-eater playing with fire (the fyah, in slang), being miraculously able not to get burn.
The album closes up in the attempt to explore a much more electronic direction. Just because I do is much more spoken than sang, her voice is often dubbed, the melody repeats itself again and again as it almost was a hybrid trip hop in alienating Tricky style.
So the question comes naturally: when one collaborates with producers and artists as big as the ones Selah met during her path, is it still possible to fail? How much is there of the young Belgian girl and how much of the professionals who guided her step by step in the making of this album? We'll wait and see for the next few years if this angel face is able to walk on her own feet.
Italian to English translation: Humbert of the Judge
Thumbs up for: This World, Ragamuffin, Fyah Fyah
Thumbs down for: Mommy, Explanations, Summertime
SELAH SUE - SELAH SUE
Produced by: Because Music (Indie label)
TRACKLIST:
1. This World
2. Peace of Mind
3. raggamuffin
4. Crazy vibes
5. Black Part Love
6. Mommy
7. explanations
8. Please (ft. Cee Lo Green)
9. Summertime
10. Crazy Sufferin Style
11. Fyah Fyah
12. Just Because I Do
