Happy 35th Anniversary to Cherrelle’s third studio album Affair, originally released October 19, 1988.
A breakdancing King Kong once scaled an apartment building just to get his giant, hairy hands on Cherrelle and honestly, who could blame him? She was the it girl. The video for her 1984 breakout hit “I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On” had enough cheese to get chuckles, but both the song and singer were formidable threats.
Under the tutelage of Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, she racked up the above R&B Top 10 from Fragile (1984), as well as the R&B #2 charting Alexander O’Neal duet “Saturday Love” from High Priority (1985). And that was all before Jam and Lewis cemented their reputation as the architects behind Janet Jackson’s Control (1986) and O’Neal’s international winner Hearsay (1987). But when the guys doubled back to produce Cherrelle’s next project, culture had notably progressed.
The ‘80s found women in music challenging gender roles and sexist stereotypes. For some though, it was still de rigueur to be modest and monogamous. But what if Cheryl Anne Norton wanted something different? Where Hearsay followed O’Neal ducking accusations of philandering, Cherrelle gives a first-person account of a woman boldly embracing it. Accordingly, Affair is a rich, conceptual journey in synth-funk and soul, traversing the life cycle of an extramarital dalliance from meet-cute to heartache and back.
It begins with the buzzing boogie bash “Looks Aren’t Everything,” the de facto sequel to another fuzz-funked, aggressive go-get-him anthem, High Priority’s opener “You Look Good to Me.” Next, “Pick Me Up” enters new jack swing territory á la New Edition’s “If It Isn’t Love” to document the thrill of the chase. Having caught someone’s eye, she gives a funky explanation of decorum on “Discreet.” If the thematic link isn’t yet apparent, Cherrelle makes it plain with liberal usage of O’Neal’s “Hearsay” on this boisterous jam about keeping quiet.
The self-possessed chanteuse revels in exuberant—and likely temporal—joy on “Happy That You’re Happy With Me.” Rather than worry about when her good thing may end, she elects to let it go where the winds take it (“No need to say, with me you’ll stay / ‘Cause promises are so hard to keep”).
As with Hearsay, this section of Affair evinces the active evolution of Jam and Lewis’ post-Control production. The way “What Have You Done For Me Lately” would have been executed morphs easily into “Discreet” and “Happy That You’re Happy With Me.” By the time of Rhythm Nation 1814 (1989), they’ve perfected the groove as the chartbusting “Escapade.” Perhaps in overlooking “Happy” as a single, Cherrelle missed a pop breakthrough.
Nonetheless, one single chosen notched a Top 5 R&B peak, and that was the sass-packed, nervy title track “Affair.” “Could it be love or just a fling?” She sings with a casual disdain, and continues with audibly missing excitement, “Maybe he’ll buy me an engagement ring.”
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These days, when people want to try non-monogamy, they can read The Ethical Slut (1997) by Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy, or the more recent Polysecure (2020) by Jessica Fern. No such handbook existed for Cherrelle in 1988, so she wrote, or rather, sung one: “Number one, respect / (Can I state my case?) / ‘Cause baby I won’t take all your business in my face / So hear me loud and clear / Doesn’t matter if you flirt / As long as you’re discreet / And make sure nobody’s hurt, like me.”
Albeit remixed into a format suitable for Paula Abdul or Martika, the innocuous “What More Can I Do for You” was tendered to radio and dance clubs. Though it didn’t quite catch on, it wasn’t because the original lacked punch. With the kind of chords that would eventually show up in Jackson’s “Miss You Much,” Cherrelle again serves as the springboard for another’s launch. “I always call myself—and people don’t like this—I said, ‘I’m the guinea pig for Flyte Tyme, and I love it!’” she boasts proudly.
The CD-only bonus “Foolin’ Around” gets spliced into the middle rather than the end. It fits into the narrative after Side A ends and B begins. Had it been included, the runtime would be too long for an LP and too uneven for a cassette. With Jellybean Johnson of The Time producing and Cherrelle co-writing, its bright flares of synth and gutsy thumping drums give an air of ambivalence and curiosity. Responding to mounting relational danger, Cherrelle considers abandoning her plaything partner (“Lately, baby, you’ve been too loose / You know what I mean”).
When it comes to getting needs met emotionally or otherwise, Cherrelle reckons with a woman’s societally forced choice of respectability or happiness on Affair’s biggest hit “Everything I Miss At Home.” Here, she discovers an attentive someone outside of her relationship and decides not to do the right thing. “Oh yes, I do love someone / But I can’t pretend to be the happy one / And be taking for granted I was lonely ‘til you were there for me.”
“People were so mad at me about that song,” Cherrelle reflected. “Some guys were like, ‘Oh, Cherrelle, you have started something at my house. My wife just told me these are the things I’m missin’ at home!’” Daring to shake the table paid off: “Everything I Miss At Home” became the sole #1 of Cherrelle’s career, topping the R&B chart.
As consequences begin crumpling in around these unstable entanglements, angst abounds. Fortunately, its soundtrack of insistent rhythm and soulful, lush chords is gold. “Keep It Inside,” a proper duet with O’Neal split-screens the pangs of dismantling a romance. “I only used to cry in private behind closed doors / Now it doesn’t even matter if I’m in public anymore.”
Closing the show is left to Cherrelle and husband Randy Ran who compose and produce (with the help of co-writer Mary Smettler and Flyte Tyme engineer-turned-producer Steve Hodge) the gorgeous trio of “My Friend,” “Crazy (For Loving You),” and “Lucky.” As the binding ties have broken, “My Friend” attempts to make platonic salvage while mourning romantic death. Bringing it down to a sultry simmer, “Crazy” details the dissolution into a one-sided attachment. And finally, a climactic “Lucky” licks its wounds as it prays for love, hope, and validation.
The charm of Affair is how broadly engaging it can be. Even as a child, I listened and studied its lyrics, rapt. Under ordinary circumstances, a nine-year-old shouldn’t be drinking in a concept album all about cheating. But as a Jam and Lewis fan from early on, any record they touched became essential listening for me, particularly if it bore the pale pink Tabu label that looked like a lava lamp as it spun on the turntable.
Unfortunately, the next pale pink Cherrelle LP would not bear the Flyte Tyme imprimatur. Though her cohorts might have gladly guided a few cuts on her mature but commercially cool comeback The Woman I Am (1991) as they did for O’Neal’s All True Man that same year, Cherrelle elected to fly solo.
With the promise her songwriting compositions held on Affair, expectations were high for her follow-up. Despite competent support from Narada Michael Walden, Keith Cohen, and others, none shared chemistry comparable to that with Jam and Lewis. Even today, Cherrelle maintains nothing but affection for the team that catalyzed her career and helped her irrepressible pipes leave an imprint on soul music. Fragile held promise that High Priority was to translate to big sales. But Affair presented the spunky soulstress at her most poised, vibrant, and sharpened. Decades later, its edge has never dulled.
Want to learn more about Cherrelle’s Affair? Enjoy Mark Chappelle discussing the album at length during his recent guest appearance on the Catch That! podcast with The R&B Representers here.
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