Sir the Baptist, aka William James Stokes, is the son of a preacher, and his major label debut, "Saint or Sinner" (Atlantic), has one foot on the street and the other in a church. The spiritual-secular divide has provided a decadeslong foundation for African-American music, and Sir's personal life, from the choirs he sang in as a youth to his days as a homeless Lyft driver living in his Honda, undergirds his mix of devotion and doubt, faith and transgression.
Sir is at his best when he merges gospel's unwavering belief with the reality checks of hip-hop. The music embraces finger-snapping doo-wop, jazz-inflected horns and reggae cadences, but its core is the piano-organ chords and vocal harmonies of the church, flavored with rap cadences.
His signature song, "Raise Hell," stomps its defiant message with gospel piano and rapid-fire hand claps. It testifies to a life that will not be lived in silent compliance but rather with boisterous purpose. It's included on the album but was initially released as a single in 2015. In that respect, Sir anticipated the wave of gospel-informed hip-hop that includes 2016 albums such as Kanye West's "Life of Pablo" and Chance the Rapper's "Coloring Book."
The album is strongest when it explores those deep roots. The wicked humor of "Prayers on a Picket Sign" sets up the ferocious "Raise Hell" and the uplifting "What We Got," which testifies to the resilience of an African-American community that has figured out how to keep on keeping on with very little. The lusty devotion of "Southern Belle" complements the wrenching "Deliver Me," in which Brandy, as the abused relative, elicits not just empathy but also brutal self-interrogation from Sir, a stand-in for rappers who can't get past the "cool factor" to give women the respect they deserve.
The musical momentum hits a speed bump with a silly pot-smoking skit and homage, "Marley's Son," and then veers toward more formulaic pop currency and a lighter tone. But Sir also celebrates the therapeutic power of dancing in "Let it Move Yah" and "Replay," then closes with "Heaven," in which Sir salts a choir's sanctified shouts with an earthier view of what sort of afterlife awaits those who struggle to navigate the world outside the stained-glass windows.
