On paper, Chaka Khan’s first album in 12 years could be read as another attempt by a vogueish producer (in this case, former Major Lazer member Switch, alongside songwriter/producer Sarah Ruba) to drag a genre-breaking legend into the sound of now. However, unlike Will.I.Am remixing Michael Jackson, or Giorgio Moroder allowing external producers to bastardise his trademark Europop on 2015’s messy Déjà Vu, the seven-track Hello Happiness pays respect to Khan’s funk and disco heydays, drawing a through-line via modern production’s showy window dressing.
The album arrives at an interesting juncture in Khan’s career. In 2016, still reeling from the death of her friend Prince, Khan, along with her sister, checked into rehab to treat an addiction to painkillers, stating she “knew it was time to take action to save our lives”. That sense of clarity permeates the album’s title track, where Khan joyously sings “Music makes me say goodbye sadness, hello happiness” over an elastic bass line and chunky synths. She struts around the melody before finally letting go with a sky-rocketing cry of “Wanna dance, wanna dance” that makes the song feel sweaty. That sensation continues into the throbbing, disco-tinged Like a Lady, while the irresistible funk of lead single Like Sugar cleverly creates pockets of space for Khan’s rip-roaring vocal interjections to fade in and out, as if she’s having so much fun dancing she forgot to step up to the mic.
The album sags, however, when the production starts to encroach on the star. Don’t Cha Know is essentially an instrumental, with darting sonic textures, samples of crowd noise and a screeching central riff that drowns everything else out. The otherwise enjoyable Too Hot, in which Khan purrs her way through a lyric about feeding her hunger, is constantly interrupted by a juddering synth that sounds like it crept in from a different, less interesting song. Thankfully, Hello Happiness returns to what it does best.
The closing Ladylike is the album’s quietest moment, with a simple guitar riff and distant percussion carrying a song that effortlessly reminds you of Khan’s influence, on everyone from Whitney Houston to modern R&B practitioners such as Ella Mai. It ends, as it should, with Khan front and centre.
