’80s sensation Sade has no plans to change the way she works

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Sade (pictured at the Allstate Arena in 2001) is performing three nearly sold-out shows at United Center this weekend. | Tom Cruze~Sun-Times

Updated: November 16, 2011 1:21AM

The band Sade debuted in 1984 — its first CD, “Diamond Life,” featured a helpful parenthetical on the spine: “(pronounced Shar-day)” — and has sounded largely the same ever since. That’s a compliment.

A Sade song sounds like … a Sade song: slow, sultry, deeply emotional and frosted with the iconic lead singer’s cool, foggy, deliberately aloof voice. No evident trends, no guest rappers, no samples. The singles from the ’80s (“Smooth Operator,” “The Sweetest Taboo,” “Stronger Than Pride”) are distinguishable from last year’s “Soldier of Love” chiefly in the technical nuances of the production. The music, though, is stubbornly identifiable.

“To me, we’re the punkest of punks within our own world, because we do what we do,” said Sade — a.k.a. singer Helen Folasade Adu, whose moniker is also the band name — late last year. “We’re not belonging to any particular genre, and we’re always brave enough to do what we do whether it’s understood or not. That fact that it’s received well, we’re endlessly grateful for. But our music is always approached in a way that’s ‘this is what we do, take it or leave it.’ We don’t have aspirations to change.”

Received well, indeed. Over the same dates this weekend as Lollalaplooza in Chicago’s Grant Park, Sade has nearly sold out three consecutive concerts at the United Center. “Soldier of Love” debuted at No. 1 when it was released in February 2010, possibly because fans were eager to hear the first new material from Sade in a decade. In the last 18 years, Sade has released three albums. Like the pace of her songs, Sade is in no hurry.

Sade herself is as reticent as she is patient. In a rare interview, she talked to the Sun-Times about musical consistency, Justin Bieber and taking her own sweet time.

Q. Your first album in 10 years was out in February 2010, yet you didn’t tour until the following summer. Why the delay?

A. I couldn’t sort of see myself going out there. I had to come up for air in a way. When we make an album, it’s quite intense, very all-encompassing and consuming. I couldn’t consider it, couldn’t do it. I know it would have been the practical, sensical thing to do, to support the album and help it on its way. But I think if you’re going to do something right, you have to be 100 percent sure it’s the best thing to do at that moment. I couldn’t honestly feel that way, so I’m glad we took the breather before going back into it.

Q. You’re never in any hurry, are you?

A. [Laughs] Having said that, I’m always late. The anxiety I feel when I’m late is nothing like the anxiety I feel when I’m on time. [Laughs] The few times in my life I’ve been early, it’s all gone wrong. I’m in constant fear of being early. That’s why I’m always late.

Q. Has Sony ever breathed down your neck, pressuring you for a new album next year instead of next decade?

A. They’ve lost all ambition with me. … This is the only way I can go. You’ve got to be yourself. I’m much better at being myself. My life dominates me, and its circumstances come first. That actually enriches the music. I don’t have that blind ambition just to do it. It has to feel right, otherwise I get sort of confused and wonder what I’m doing.

Q. Describe for me what happens — you release an album and tour in 2000-01, then nearly eight years go by before the call goes out to reconvene the band. What has to happen for you to reach a creative boil?

A. It’s hard to say. In some way, I feel the pressure boiling from the band. I suppose that kicks me into a more conscious state — more aware of the real practical side of it, the reality of what it takes. Also, I think I’ll commit at the beginning. I have to get involved, get the train in motion, downhill picking up steam, then suddenly I find I’m doing it. I’m one of those people, if I stop and think it holds me back.

Q. You don’t start writing until you’re in the studio, right?

A. That’s why making records is so expensive for us. I have collections of bits on paper, written little scraps of ideas from when I’m really excited by a thought or a feeling that’s managed to make it to a bit of paper. We have that to start with, and that’s it, really. Whenever we make an album, we have to go somewhere we can cut ourselves off from reality. That speeds up the process.

Q. What do you listen to?

A. I live in a house with an 18-year-old and a 14-year-old, so it’s full of music. Just anything. When I was young, people were almost identified solely by the kind of music they liked. It’s lovely about young kids now — they love music for the sake of it. It’s so accessible, and it’s all right to love Muse and Justin Bieber at the same time. That’s infectious. There’s no snobbery attached to their feeling for music.

Q. So Bieber’s even gotten to you?

A. Justin Bieber singing “Cry Me a River” — that made me cry. We’re sitting on the sofa at home, and my daughter showed it to me on YouTube. There’s a kind of loveliness about him, an innocence. He’s so maligned. I like Janelle Monae. I think she’s sweet. We listen to a lot of rap and hip-hop. I love Raekwon. It’s very heavy, I know, but I love the beats. I think he’s genius.