Yet until now, Sade has never more than hinted at unrest beneath the smooth patina of her music. Lovers Rock, by contrast, bubbles with restless discontent, as though its spartan form can barely hold the weight of its emotions. Much of the reason for that—beyond Sade's own natural inclination toward somber lyrics—has to do with what's happened in the eight years between her last two albums.
In the late '80s, Sade fell in love with, and married, Spanish film director Carlos Pliego, relocating from London to Madrid as a consequence. But by the making of Love Deluxe, their always-turbulent relationship had finally broken apart for good. "It was a very sad situation," she sighs. "I had to leave... very quickly... with a very small bag. It took five years for it not to be something that affected the way I felt. It wasn't like I was crawling out of bed every day or anything like that, but it would have really undermined love for me to get over it quickly. If you really love someone that's the way it is." Back in Britain, her new house in North London began to subside, forcing her to move out while it was propped up and put back together in 18 months. Literally as well as metaphorically, it felt as though her life was falling apart. There were times when she wondered if she would ever make another record. "If there's something big going on in my life I can't switch it off in the middle and go make a record," she says empathically. "Luckily, because I am in the position that I don't have to work, I can put the people in my life as a priority. A relative of mine got very sick and I was there looking after her with my mum. I couldn't walk away. You can talk about stuff and sing about stuff but if you don't live it in the end then it's all fake."
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