Graded on a Curve:
Teena Marie,
Emerald City

In his 1991 book Stairway to Hell: The 500 Best Heavy Metal Albums in the Universe, rock critic Chuck Eddy does a perverse and inexplicable thing—puts Ivory Queen of Soul Teen Marie’s 1986 LP Emerald City in the ninth spot. Bullshit, right?

I had the opportunity speak with Eddy by phone a while back and took the opportunity to tell him that putting Marie—who was to heavy metal as James Taylor is to gangsta rap—in the book’s top ten was an inspired prank certain to infuriate people who take their heavy metal very, very seriously. No, Eddy informed me, he was dead serious, and then proceeded in great detail to explain to why Emerald City merited its position. He also insisted it wasn’t his attention to provoke anyone. I listened politely, thinking he was full of shit. But I didn’t say as much, because I’m a timid guy and was afraid he’d punch me over the phone.

If Emerald City isn’t heavy metal, what manner of beastie is it? A genre-blending Frankenstein’s monster that combines elements of soul, funk, R&B, and jazz, with some rock tossed into the mix. And to Eddy’s credit Emerald City rocks harder than I expected—Teena Marie gives the guitarists (Nikki Sixx shows up, and Stevie Ray Vaughan plays on one track) free reign, and her vocals are tougher than non-fans would expect. But I would hardly call Emerald City a rock album; amongst its tracks you’ll find samba and slow jazz, and I hear a good bit of Madonna in there.

What shouldn’t be lost in the arguments about genre is that Emerald City is a decent album. Too eclectic for its own good, for sure, but its four first tracks stand up against the work of Prince, Michael Jackson, and (yes) Madonna. The heavy on the electronics title track opens with an introduction by Bootsy Collins (nice touch, that), then funks its way into Michael Jackson territory. “Take a walk on the wild side,” sings Marie, echoing a certain somebody, and while the song has that 80s pop feel it’s anything but the same old thing.

Follow-up “Once Is Not Enough” is up-tempo as well but has a harder edge; Marie is one tough lady and she knows what she wants (once ain’t gonna do it). And when Stevie Ray Vaughan rips into a pair of guitar solos you begin to understand why Emerald City is not your average pop album.

“Lips to Find You” has that ’80s music soundtrack feel—it’s very much a product of its time, but it’s a more interesting animal—the guitar has pizazz, the bass (thanks Stanley Clarke!) takes the song places it wouldn’t otherwise go, and I hear echoes of both Madonna and Prince in there. Oh, and evidently, she has a pair of lips that serve as tracking devices.

“You So Heavy” is Madonna on fast forward and boasts some truly hair-raising guitar work, as well as a bottom that is heavy indeed. Teena Marie demonstrates why she’s one of your more underrated singers of the period—she’s no Michael Jackson, but she can handle all sorts of material and her vocals pack real punch. If there’s a song on Emerald City that could conceivably be placed in the heavy metal category it’s this one—it gives Van Halen’s more pop-oriented songs a run for their money.

Unfortunately, the excitement level wanes after “You So Heavy.” “Shangri-La” and “Love Me Down Easy” are Madonna-school pop songs without the froth and empty calories that make Madonna so much fun. Does Tina Marie have a better voice? For sure. But has she ever written a song as catchy as “Borderline”? I have my doubts.

The “batucadia” in “Batucadia Suite” is a subset of samba, and the song is heavy on the percussion and horns. Teena Marie is familiar with the music and sings it with passion, but the song is on the wrong album, as is the slow burn “Sunny Skies,” on which Marie shows off her impressive jazz chops, and the players (who include Branford Marsalis on saxophone and Stanley Clarke on bass) put in a Blue Note performance.

You’ll find very few rock fans who think Emerald City is a rock album; you’ll find maybe a left hand’s worth of fingers who would label it a heavy metal LP. Which brings us back to Eddy’s including it in his book. Regardless of what he says, it’s a provocation intended to irk metal heads. Add to that his putting it above albums by Black Sabbath (six of ‘em in fact), Led Zeppelin (eight of them to be precise), Metallica, AC/DC, and plenty more besides can only make it a hilarious move on his part, and one of the things I like most about the book. Chuck Eddy is rock’s all-time greatest agent provocateur, and Teena Marie is undoubtedly his greatest accomplishment. Until he writes a book on punk rock and puts Abba in the number one spot, that is.

GRADED ON A CURVE:
B-

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