Happy 10th Anniversary to Corinne Bailey Rae’s second studio album The Sea, originally released January 20, 2010.
Throughout human endeavors the sea has been both an inspiration to artists and a projection of the artist’s ideas. For some it symbolizes the great unknown, for others it symbolizes human feeling—we often talk of “drowning” when “all at sea” emotionally—and for others yet, it holds an erotic allure (I’m looking at you, Walt Whitman). It allows us to transpose our feelings onto a vast, ever-changing canvas. It is, in effect, life itself.
For Corinne Bailey Rae it reflects all of life’s turbulences—its triumphs and terrors all in one glorious, swirling mélange. Released in 2010, her sophomore album The Sea had the unenviable task of following up her wildly successful eponymous debut LP of 2006. That record garnered award nominations (Song and Record Of The Year for “Put Your Records On” at the 2007 GRAMMYs), critical praise and commercial success. Indeed by the end of 2009, Corinne Bailey Rae had sold over four million copies worldwide, with almost a quarter of those in the UK.
As with every successful debut, the dread and pressure to follow it up must have been a weight around her neck. But life would throw something more important her way than any fears of the sophomore slump. In March 2008, her husband Jason Rae was found dead in her hometown, Leeds. His death was the result of an accidental overdose of methadone and alcohol—a tragedy of exuberance and youthful naiveté.
When The Sea emerged almost two years later, the temptation was to assume that the work was a reaction to the death of her husband and treat it as some sort of macabre concept album. That was never the case though, as some material was written before the untimely passing of her husband, though it is hard not to see and feel a deeper resonance with those tracks in the shadow of her cataclysmic loss.
Whereas her debut fluttered by, carefree and blazing with innocence, The Sea (unsurprisingly, given her life experiences) revealed greater depths to her musicality and lyricism. It also seemed an album devoid of filler, which was one criticism leveled at her wildly successful debut.
Also evident here was the influence of her early musical heroes. For all that her debut (and subsequent releases) would lean heavily on soul-pop sounds, her earliest inspirations were indie rockers like Veruca Salt and L7. Which is not to say that grungy guitars and spikey rock take center stage, but rather that there is a weightier feel to proceedings here—a desire to escape the airiness of her debut and inject gravitas into the material.
Gravitas does not equate with darkness here though. Just as surely as there are moments of undeniable heartbreak and grief, there are moments of shimmering beauty when the glow of love embraces all in its reach. Both of these aspects are evident on album opener “Are You Here?” A lone guitar and Bailey Rae’s breathless, whispering voice offer a bridge to the past, while the steadily building chorus and bridge bring a satisfying crunch to the climax of the song.
Though written in the aftermath of a marital argument, “I’d Do It All Again” is impossible to ignore with the added poignancy of the passing of her husband, especially in light of the lyrical content: “Someone to love is bigger than your pride’s worth / It’s bigger than the pain you’ve got, for all it hurts / It outruns all the sadness / It’s terrifying light to the darkness.”
A foreboding bassline and jittery piano line give “Feels Like The First Time” an eerie opening before breaking out into a joyous string-laden ode to a tingling first love. “The Blackest Lily” finds Questlove on drums and James Poyser on keys for a foot stomping, funk rocking surprise.
Lying in wait at the center of the album is a piece of iridescent brilliance that acts as the tent pole for the album, supporting all else around it. “Love’s On Its Way” is a work of genius, with subdued melody and vocals that recall dark times: “ There’s so much blood on the streets / So much hope refused / So much grainy teenage photographs on the evening news / Oo, when everywhere’s violence / Silently I go.”
Then, slowly, steadily and strongly she rises up. Like a battered boxer rising in the tenth round, she staggers to her feet, dusts herself down and goes again. With greater force and passion, she talks of the day of reckoning when things will change, when an uprising comes. And the music rises with her—from simple accompaniment, to organ, lead-heavy bass strings and a chorus of heavenly backing vocals begging, beseeching love to come our way and free us from a world bathed in pain and misery. It is masterly.
Such an intense song could only be followed by a heavenly slice of the aforementioned “shimmering beauty” and so it proves on the glowing embers of “I Would Like To Call It Beauty.” Winsome doesn't do it justice though—it is delicate, soul-stirring and haunting in equal measure and the combination of her crystalline voice and the swelling waves of the organ is a heady brew.
Further light relief comes in the shape of “Paris Nights, New York Mornings,” which highlights the jaunty effervescence that Bailey Rae’s voice is capable of transmitting—it is striking how similar her intonation and pitch is to Nina Persson of the Cardigans. Sweetness personified.
“Paper Dolls” shares a kinship with “The Blackest Lily” based around a pounding drum and organ combination before the album closes with two further gems of power and poise. “Diving For Hearts” typifies the way in which Bailey Rae is able to control songs so beautifully. It opens with a gently lapping musical wave, before the chorus brings the tumult of the tempest, demonstrating once more her heavier tendencies. It is stark in its contrasts and balanced magnificently between light and dark.
“The Sea” is further evidence of Bailey Rae’s many talents—a winning melody, poetic lyrics and a voice that conveys the breadth of emotions that both engender: “ The sea doesn’t just exist / grey’s everything, crushes everything / Cleans everything, takes everything from me.”
The Sea is a towering achievement in Bailey Rae’s developing discography that demonstrates her accomplishments as a writer, singer and artist—an artist capable of mining both the lowest troughs and highest peaks of emotion and communicating them in the most beautiful ways. From fragile and broken to emphatic and belligerent, she emits humanity and grace in all she does.
Turbulent waves may crash against her bow but she remains unbothered, cruising on the crest of her artistry.
LISTEN: