Review by Sam C. Mac: Corinne Bailey Rae's airy, sun-dappled voice may go down as easily as a glass of Chardonnay in May—and it certainly did on her springtime, R&B-lite debut—but it also tends to carry a proclivity for disarming soulfulness, an emotionally direct and sincere quality she shares with that other young star of contemporary pop, Taylor Swift. On her second album, The Sea, Rae's delicate vulnerability—evidenced on past records but increasing ten fold here—proves especially potent. This is in no small part due to the recent passing of her husband from a drug overdose, which triggered an unplanned retreat from her musical career and the belated release of this album. But what's so impressive about The Sea is that it's not just another melancholy attempt at a Sea Change redux, which it understandably could have been. That's not to say the record isn't sullen: "I'd Do It All Again," a slice of acoustic-led neo-soul, might've felt at home on Rae's debut were it not for the fuller production values and more wrenching sentiments in her lyrics. But there's a newfound confidence here, too, a passion which resonates on songs like the roaring "Blackest Lily," which carries as much intensity as a Sharon Jones vamp, and "Closer," which immediately follows, and which is probably the best song here—a nice bit of tricky time-signature R&B-pop Mariah Carey would probably love to cover (or Solange). The Sea Change comparison is apt in so much as the heavy orchestration of Beck's bereaved classic is often echoed here. Rae along with producers Steve Brown and Steve Chrisanthou often imbue these songs with propulsive and lush soundscapes, and the percussion in particular is far more prevalent here than it's been on past recordings. A martial drum beat enlivens standout opener "Are You Here" and a foreboding rumble of percussion underscores the spring-loaded "Love's on its Way." Contrast that with the pillow-y synths which often cushioned whispered ballads on Rae's debut, and there's a clear, identifiable growth evident on The Sea. So much so that it's easy to overlook some of the record's less successful moments, including the grubby horror-synth-laden "Paper Dolls" (outside this artist's comfort zone, noticeably so) and the summery, radio-friendly "Paris Nights/New York Mornings," which sounds suspiciously like about eight songs on her last album, and is entirely forgettable. The structure of The Sea is likewise a little uneven, sequencing both those low points right next to each other, and clustering together a few too many of the more deliberately paced dirges on the record. But like Rihanna's Rated R last year, this is a striking and relatively ambitious pop record born of tribulation and heartache. Rae has wrung admirable strength and musical maturity from her misfortune and reaffirmed her status as one of the more promising pop artists of her generation.

Last Word: The second release from the very talented Corinne Bailey Rae could have easily been burdened by the dark shadow of her loss, but instead it's steadfast in its goal to overcome that adversity, arriving at a mostly strong effort that above all showcases her continued growth and maturity as an artist.

Review By:
Sam C. Mac

IN REVIEW ONLINE