Things didn’t take off for the quartet until they joined with London Records in 1996, when Lewis, Melanie Blatt and the Appleton sisters (Nicole and Natalie) issued their eponymous 1997 debut. The cool pop vibe of that album drew on then-contemporary R&B mined from both American and British sources, awarding them stellar sales and warm reviews. Their impressive sophomore set Saints and Sinners (2000) upscaled on the already high quality of its predecessor – which made their split at the top of 2001 shocking. Although each member was integral to All Saints appeal, Lewis’ pen powered the bulk of the material they rendered.
Open followed in the summer of 2004, a sun-kissed batch of soul-pop with pronounced reggae and funk accents. However, the U.K. charts were a crowded, competitive field of play at that time, and Lewis’ label (still London Records) didn’t know how to market what has since been lionized as a solid solo effort.
Twenty years have come and gone since Open with Lewis certainly keeping busy: marriage, motherhood, and two All Saints reformations. Said reunions yielded three new recordings in Studio 1 (2006), Red Flag (2016) and Testament (2018), keeping Lewis’ writing game quite sharp. Evidence of this is made clear with the independent release of Pages on her own 1.9.7.5. imprint.
All 12 cuts on her second standalone offering find Lewis
leading as the primary songwriter, which isn’t to say she lacks a
collaborative spirit. Aside from exciting guest spots from Rebecca “Self
Esteem” Taylor on “Pick You Up,” and Shola Ama and General Levy on
“Good Mourning,” several notable writer-producers pitch in on the
construction of the long player: Michael Angelo, Jez Ashurst, Ben
Cullum, Johan Hugo, Moyses Dos Santos, Charlie Stacey, Emily Phillips
and Ant Whiting.
Pages is a luxe affair, an exercise in
classic-to-contemporary British R&B and pop excellence. This is
heard immediately at its start with “Missiles,” a midtempo stunner
trimmed in orchestral curio, tied to a loping groove and backbeat. From
the electro-soul psychedelia of “Supposed To Be” on over to the
retro-modernist disco of “Tears on the Dancefloor,” Lewis is in
possession of strong songs rife with all sorts of compositional details
worth discovering. Cullum stands tall as the principal producer,
smithing the LP to her precise specifications for its larger, richer
sound.
But what is a song without a voice to command it? Entries
like “Miracle” and “Hearts in Danger” have Lewis in vocal symmetry with
the grandeur of these (and other) arrangements across the expanse of
this passion project. Her instrument is the perfect blend of instinct
and technical skill—hallmarks for anyone familiar with Lewis’ anterior
work. A new kind of energy charges her singing on Pages, owed to a freshly minted bravura and wisdom in equal measure.
These same traits also inform the lyrics of this collection too.
“I pull on past experiences, past feelings, which is how
the drama is written; and I love drama in music [...]. At the same time I
was visualizing and experiencing a lot of things throughout making the
record, life gives you plenty to draw on.” Lewis’ comments regarding the
narrative core for Pages reveals favor for observational
character studies versus typical R&B soapiness; see the cited
“Miracle” and “Bruises” as fantastic examples. She does partake in the
personal with “Kiss of Life” and “Got to Let Go,” both pieces are odes
to her teenage children and their inexorable journey into adulthood;
they’re cleverly designed to sidestep saccharine excess and embrace
emotional charisma instead. Further proof of Lewis’ scripting abilities
are disclosed in her exploration of the socio-political on “Peaches” and
“Awake (Motu).”
There is an indelible link between African Americans and Black Britons that Lewis taps into on these two tracks –
an overlap between our respective stories of struggle,
self-determination and eventual triumph. Whereas “Peaches” focuses on
the horrific Devil’s Punchbowl Massacre of 1865
in Natchez, Mississippi, “Awake (Motu)” can best be described as a
missive on modern civil rights in the United Kingdom. Each selection
points to the impact of artistic globalization on the collective psyche
of the Black diaspora, a demonstration of our connection despite any
geographical divides.
Given her credentials – and the two decades separating Open and Pages –
there’s bound to be some sense of heightened commercial expectations
surrounding this album. Lewis certainly doesn’t eschew broader appeal
here, but she isn’t overly concerned with it either. What makes Pages thrilling
is that it demonstrates a commitment to the refinement and renewal of
craft; and it also makes one thing abundantly clear: there’s no one
quite like Shaznay Lewis.
