January 21, 2004 @ 6:00 pm

Alicia Keys - The Diary of Alicia Keys (J-Records)

by: Dimitri Ehrlich

A virtuoso without being ostentatious, Alicia Keys understands that showstopping moments are like salt: A little adds flavor; too much makes you wince.

A virtuoso without being ostentatious, Alicia Keys understands that showstopping moments are like salt: A little adds flavor; too much makes you wince. And she manages to sustain drama over the course of the 15 tracks on her masterful sophomore album, The Diary of Alicia Keyspartly by swelling her impressive voice to the top of its range with judicious rarity. Brimming with updated old-school soul joints, original balladry, and classic-sounding R&B, Diary finds Keys more relaxed, confident, and committed to the tunes of the ’70s than ever before. The album’s sweeping piano intro, “Harlem’s Nocturne,” is about the only moment on Diary when Keys shows off her skills on the ivories like the child prodigy she was. From then on, she simply plays piano to serve the tune. On “Karma,” one of the more intense songs—with a strident minor chord progression that struts like a military march—Keys sings about having a heart that is at once aggrieved, defiant, and proud. But the song still has a considerable amount of that secret ingredient most modern records lack: space. Leaving a little negative space in a song is nearly a forgotten art (think classic Aretha Franklin or Al Green and their minimalist production), but Keys clearly has an uncanny grasp on musical history. On “Heartburn,” she gets hip hop producer du jour Timbaland to check his hyperactive experimentalism and go back to his Isaac Hayes textbook. The song is a vintage piece of blaxploitation-era sound. As a tight funk riff drills its way into your head—punctuated by horn blasts and Keys’s terse, almost chanted shouts—you find yourself tempted to dig out your dashiki, fur pimp coat, and white plastic go-go boots to turn this mutha out. Similarly, with an orchestral arrangement that could have been recorded 30 years ago, and a fat, steady bass line, the album’s first single, “You Don’t Know My Name,” sounds like a long-forgotten B-side by Betty Wright. On it, Keys plays the role of a waitress who longs for the attention of a customer who barely notices her. When she isn’t helming the session herself, Keys certainly has a knack for getting producers to shear away many of their trademark tics and meet her halfway, so that her instinct toward vintage Southern-fried ’70s R&B pervades every track. On her cover of “If I Was Your Woman/Walk on By,” she gets Easy Mo Bee to back her with a sound that conjures Roberta Flack jamming with the Jackson Five. The track provides an interesting bridge between the old-school soul influences that dominate this album and the more futuristic hip hop mutations she explores here. But Keys is the center of gravity: Her voice is low and full, brimming with emotion. Singing as if her life depended on every note, she makes sure you feel the urgency. In the album’s liner notes, we are treated to what are ostensibly excerpts from Keys’s real diary, including a poem (or song idea) called “When Gone Is the Glory.” It’s a meditation on the ephemeral nature of fame: “When gone is the praise / When gone is the fun / Is gone the worth of what you’ve become?” A surprisingly mature reflection from a woman whose 2001 debut, Songs in A Minor, entered the charts at No. 1, sold 10 million copies worldwide, and won her five Grammys at the age of 21. It’s a sign of personal growth when a young artist begins to grow wary of the fame game. But with the release of The Diary of Alicia Keys, it’s unlikely the glory is going anywhere soon.

Article tags: Alicia, Keys, Diary, Alicia, Keys, J-Records 

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