Ready! Readi! Readé!
[Video]
[6.17]
Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I fell in love with Raphael Saadiq’s last album, Stone Rollin’, when it came out in the far off days of 2011. The thing that drew me into Saadiq’s music was his supreme poise, the way that he commanded a retro groove like no other. The music on that album was unhurried soul pastiche that drew from a wonderful array of ’60s styles, an album of would-be classics preserved in amber. Now, at the tail end of the decade (which he mostly spent producing for younger artists), Saadiq sounds a touch more hurried. He’s retrofuturist instead of just retro on “So Ready,” dotting the track with funk clavinet and spacey electric piano, and even his phrasing and backup vocals sound a little more rushed. For something that took 8 years to reach us, it sounds a little slapdash. Yet even on a studio master’s more raw work, there’s something sublime embedded. In this case, it’s his bassline, a burbling thing that communicates the eagerness of the track more clearly than the rest.
[6]
Alfred Soto: A studio rat best appreciated in discrete bits, Raphael Saadiq releases a track whose bass and rather camp call-and-response vocals sounds nothing like what’s on the radio. He writes from the point of view of the sibling he lost to drugs; what fascinates is how Saadiq nails the premature euphoria triggered by saying fuck it to responsibilities. And, boy, does it swing.
[8]
Kylo Nocom: Suitably pseudo-funky with occasional forays into slightly-funky (the synths are trying, but they’re cramped), Raphael Saadiq’s overeager, irritating airhorn voice interrupting any slight groove. A beat that requires a vocalist more sweet, a singer that longs for an instrumental more warm, a song that fails to get off the tiny amount of ground that it needed to clear.
[4]
Ian Mathers: Listen, all I’m hearing are a bunch of excuses and a bunch of reiterations that you broke her heart, over a not bad but kind of wan funk backing. It’s great that you’re ready, but have you considered the possibility that she might not be?
[3]
Nortey Dowuona: Raphael’s clear, boyish voice soars over the clipping drums and fizzing synths boiling in the gurgling, stirred bass as he mixes it down with ghostly keyboard sprinkles and shifting string synths waft out into our noses.
[7]
Anjy Ou: Raphael Saadiq is one of the greatest and most underrated artists, producers, songwriters in music, period. I’ve loved his music since I was a little kid, in all its iterations — half the time without even knowing he was behind it (check out this #MusicSermon for an overview of his ridiculous career). His ability to craft emotions with just instruments and his smooth-as-cocoa-butter voice is downright alchemical. This should-have-been-8-minutes house track is built on the backbone of funk and soul and is an exploration of love, fear, indecision and regret. The lyrics are sparse, but the bassline speaks loudly enough, alternately catching my ear and catching my heartbeat — making it beat a little too fast and feel the heartache underneath the party vibes. The instruments grow sparse as Saadiq’s singing becomes more pained and desperate, his emotion getting the better of him, and then the track abruptly cuts off. It’s hardly subtle, but it is unexpected: is he’s tired of pretending to be okay or just overwhelmed by his feelings? The question hangs in the silence for a few moments, and then I hit replay and attempt to dance my own cares away.
[9]