Unplugged

Don’t be fooled by the title. This album could scarcely be described as a stripped-down acoustic affair. Key’s gorgeous vocals are laid down on a rich bed of sound throughout: piano, strings, brass, electric bass. The full works, basically.
It’s better this way, though. Keys wants to bring The Funk to her audience, and she could hardly be expected to do so with just an acoustic guitar.
Besides, the Unplugged format is usually a means by which musicians can test the strength of their traditional songcraft. Melodic songwriting, however, has never been Keys’ forte. Her flair is for choppy grooves, vocal elasticity and lush, theatrical arrangements.
Keys is essentially an R’n’B artist. But she belongs firmly in the neo-soul sub-section of the genre, somewhere between Lauryn Hill and Erykah Badu. To clarify: stuttering digital beats and Lil’ Jon guest spots are out; earthy grooves, live instrumentation and a keen sense of spirituality in.
Unplugged is a sprawling affair, taking in highlights from Keys’ first two studio albums, alongside a handful of covers. At 73 minutes long, it’s a little too much to take in one sitting, but there are some choice moments to dip into. ‘A Woman’s Worth’ is a taut and thrilling: coiled like a spring and threatening to jump, yet never fully exploding into life. ‘Streets Of New York (City Life)’ begins as a free-jazz, stream-of-consciousness meditation on urban life, before climaxing in a crescendo of extinguished frustration.
The already-classic ‘Fallin’’ remains Keys’ best song, though, and she knows it. Just listen as she tantalises the audience by stretching its intro out that little bit longer.
Unplugged? Hardly. You’ll hear few albums as electric as this.