I wrote a short review about it back in 2016, but it was too short. It was probably too soon after I first heard it.
In the years since it has remained a staple. I have not listened to the album as a whole in a minute, but the individual tracks continue to pop up on my playlists. If I had Spotify, a chunk of the tracklist would probably be ranked.
Sadly, the album did lead me toward Quincy Jones’ discography. I was craving something closer to The Dude, so instead, it led me to his production work. I already knew his big credits of the Eighties (Michael Jackson, George Benson) but I sought out other credits, like ‘Yo Mah Be There’ (James Ingram and Michael McDonald) and ‘Baby, Come To Me’ (Patti Austin and Ingram).
‘Ai No Corrida’, the first track was also my introduction to the album. I cannot remember how I stumbled onto it but I found the album shortly thereafter.
A cover of a song inspired by In The Realm of the Senses, a film inspired by the true story of a man castrating himself for the woman he loves.
That inspiration is somewhat overshadowed by Jones’ approach, transforming this depraved howl into an ecstatic declaration.
Released following the blockbuster success of his productions for Michael Jackson's Off The Wall and George Benson's Give Me The Night, the opening notes feel like the accompaniment to an entrance. It is like Jones shouting here I am, top of the world!
The bridge, in which the song turns into a sinister duel of guitar and eerie processed sounds, is where Jones meets the darkness of the subject. Even as the song returns to the chorus, this darkness lingers, adding a bite to the reassurance of the lyrics.
Ironcially the one relative dud on the album is the title track.
It is fun but it is the one experiment that anchors the album to its time - rap is here, so Jones has to try it out. It is tastefully produced, benefiting from a tight rhythm section and catchy sung verses, but whenever it turns into rhymes over a beat, with a heavily processed vocal, I immediately think of Homer Simpson doing his ‘cool walk’.
Every critical appraisal of this album lists the James Ingram contributions as highlights.
When I first listened to the album, I would skip the ballads - I enjoyed ‘Ai No Corrida’ and the Patti Austin tracks. They feel more energised and uptempo. I got a bit of a sugar rush from those tracks. It was only on recent re-listens that I have been able to appreciate and enjoy this song. I know Ingram from his later hit, ‘Yo Mah Be There’ (also produced by Jones).
Quiet and meditative, ‘Just Once’ is more romantic than the hyperbolic opening tracks.
It feels like a forerunner to the ballads of the early nineties, except far more intimate. It starts small with piano keys, and as the song builds, more orchestration is added.
However, Jones's arrangement and production never overwhelm Ingram’s emotional phrasing, providing a showcase for Ingram’s voice.
‘Betcha Wouldn’t Hurt Me’ is still one of my favourite songs off this album - it is dead-even with the track that follows it.
Bouncy and teasing, it is a fine showcase for Patti Austin.
As with the previous song, it starts slowly, with some vaguely Spanish guitar, before speeding up.
More of a kiss-off rather than a break-up song, there is a sense of hard-won wisdom, and irony to her delivery as she roasts her selfish ex-partner.
The music is too upbeat, and Austin’s phrasing avoids wallowing in despair.
I would not quite call it a dance track, but in the context of this album, it is one of the high-energy points of the album.
I think the reason I have not stopped listening to it, aside from nostalgia, is the tone - there is something about the bitterness implied by the lyrics, with the contrast of the instrumentation, that keeps it interesting.
I will admit ‘Something Special’ has started to overtake its predecessor in my estimation.
Filled with yearning, it is the inverse of its predecessor, as our narrator realises the depth of her feelings for some.
I love the orchestration of it - the romance and the sense of atmosphere - this captures the vibe of romantic chemistry.
Austin is terrific, weaving through the instrumentation like a dance partner.
Part 3 of the Austin trilogy, ‘Razzmatazz’ ends up feeling like (well-made) filler.
More high-energy, it feels like an antidote to the emotional turmoil of the last couple of songs with an appeal to the healing power of music.
There is not much more to the song. It has a good rhythm, and the backing vocals add some bounce to Austin.
It is fluff, but fun.
The impetus behind this review was a date where the person I was with wanted me to pick some mood music. I hip-fired this album as a suggestion, and it ended up not detracting from the evening. Listening to it in context as backing music in a setting it was made for, made me appreciate it in a new way.
And most of my appreciation was based around the Ingram ballads.
An address from someone yearning for a lost love, hoping that his advice can help others to nurture their relationships, ‘One Hundred Ways’ could have been a disaster, but ends up being another sterling number from James Ingram.
The listed examples are the height of cliche, but this all comes down to execution.
Ingram’s delivery is sincere, and as with ‘Just Once’ Jones does not go overboard with his production - this ballad feels intimate and personable, rather than something big and crowd-pleasing.
A melancholy downbeat before the finale, ‘Velas’ is a melancholy downbeat before the finale.
A spotlight for Toots Theilsmans, who provides the harmonica and whistling solos on the track, it is a lovely, contemplative showcase for the jazz musician. It has the feeling of a time capsule, maybe a look back by Jones from the middle of his pop success, to an earlier stage of his career. It is also a reflection of the producer's versatility and eclectic taste.
‘Turn On The Action’ AKA ‘Razzmatazz’ Part Deux is an upbeat denouement to the album, with Patti Austin back on lead vocals.
I am surprised that Jones did not make the choice to turn it into a duet with James Ingram, although I cannot see him fitting into this song.
With Jones’ passing, its sense of finality carries an added poignancy.
Jones was on a creative tear through the last great chapter of his career as a producer, and he would not return to a solo project until the end of the Eighties
Checking back in with The Dude made me want to make up for my ignorance of Jones the solo artist. He had such a long, diverse career, I am certain The Dude is only the tip of the iceberg.
More significantly it reignited my passion for writing about music. I have not written anything in years, and I think I finally have some inspiration.
Bring on 2026!
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