The Sea

Corinne Bailey Rae has completed a remarkable comeback, against titanic odds, and for that she should be applauded. But to do it with a record as powerful as this is extraordinary.

In grappling with the sudden death of her husband in 2008, the U.K. singer/songwriter has crafted a remarkable set that includes influences from rock and jazz, rich instrumentation and lyrics that linger well beyond the first listen.

What makes it all work is her lithe voice, as eloquent an instrument as ever.

A great vocal performance and solid musicianship from the backing band result in a record well worth the time.

The Sea, produced as per the debut by Steve Brown and Steve Chrisanthou, is no self-indulgent lack of tunes-fest. Even at its bleakest--"Closer," say, or "Love's on Its Way," where there is "blood on the streets"--the music and melodies draw you in, and even when they follow their own lushly orchestrated circuitous path, they seem to dare you to drift away.

The eleven songs on The Sea are richer, much less accessible, and marked by a sense of loss and introspection. Bailey Rae moves closer to capturing the vividness of her live shows as she allows her bluesier and rock sides to emerge with hints of jazz in her vocal phrasings.

Even allowing for occasional swoops into blandish neo-soul, Rae has made an album she'll have trouble bettering.

It's a delicate, individual record, from the same neighbourhood as Paul Weller's recent excursions in rustic soul, but instead of Weller's creosotey vocals, the emotion is carried in a Minnie Riperton trill.

The leap in quality is clear from the album's opening bars.

It doesn't offer any answers, but The Sea is a testament to Rae's artistic growth as it provides comfort to those left on the wistful side of eternal love, and insight to those who are not.

It's to Bailey Rae's credit that never for one second does the album feel exploitative or mawkish, just truthful and real. [Mar 2010, p.94]

The record is refreshingly eclectic, adding several new layers to Rae's previous blend of classic soul and modern R&B.

Her latest is both reckoning and rebirth.

The Sea is a richer effort than her debut. Given its inspiration, it forges a darker and more sophisticated sonic palette.

Like its physical namesake, The Sea is capable of being dull and flat, but at its most winning it provides glimpses of a new horizon shining beyond the riptides of pain and sorrow.

It's easy to be fatigued by this album. The moment the rhythm breaks, as with "Closer," it's a struggle to reengage with music that is so intensely personal, so overwhelmingly desolate and yet somehow unmemorable.

The mournful ballads are achingly pretty, but Rae is most compelling when trying to distract herself from her loss.

At its best, though, The Sea is not just honest and cathartic, but jaw-dropping - and a difficult call for any critic. [Feb 2010, p. 93]

The album, her best to date, would've worked better had she dived into the sea of sadness instead of dipping her toe in from song to song.