Lovers Rock

Sade’s music has become so synonymous with seduction that putting it on to get a potential conquest in the mood is just as likely to produce embarrassed giggles as it is earth-moving sex. On her first album of new material in eight years, Nigeria’s atmospheric-pop princess barely toys with the formula that got millions hot and bothered in the ’80s and ’90s, but manages to sound fresh anyway, employing delicate acoustic guitars; sparse, organic percussion; and her own buttery vocals to sublime effect. Because of the late-night vibe, there’s a tendency to dismiss this stuff as lightweight, but these broken-hearted laments (“King Of Sorrow,” “Every Word”) and reggae-tinged crawls (“Slave Song,” “Immigrant”) are anything but—they merely deliver their weighty messages in smooth, easy-to-swallow pills. Of course, the album’s slow-burning grooves will ensure it’s still stored in the drawer with the aromatherapy candles and the condoms—just practice keeping a straight face when you reach for it.