Sade and maxwell dating
In terms of contemporary icons, it's better to listen to Mary J for stories of drama and shattered devotion.
But Sade, today, is all about the acknowledged presence of absence.
What's missing in her music is as important as what's present.
So on there are no swooping saxophones and no lush instrumentation.
She thought of her daughter and her friends and her family, the people whom she treasures more in life than any professions, and what might be at stake in returning to the spotlight.
Whether she might lose more than she gained in doing so.
There is instead spare, deceptively simple arrangement—sometimes no more than an acoustic guitar.
She's sold 50 millions records and doesn't need to work again.
She lost a marriage and a house too, but rebuilt the house and rediscovered love, gave birth to a daughter, and finally figured out how to deal with fame.
Guess there was nothing left to do but bring out a new album. Each listen of Sade's started the scratching at the back of my head, setting off a nagging reminding me of something out of reach, the half-revived memory of a previously-forgotten loss.
How could Sade, the mother/friend/singer/star cease to be any of these things when each of them, after all, is Sade herself?
"I just want to be who I am in the end, that's all you are anyway.