You know we live in an era where the formula
for success is just incredibly rigid. Especially
in entertainment. Oh, absolutely. The prevailing
wisdom is that you have to broadcast basically
everything you do. Right. Like, you eat a sandwich,
you post it, you write half a chorus, you tease
it on social media for like six months. Yeah,
and then you try to make a dance challenge out
of it. Exactly. It's this economy of constant,
relentless visibility. If you aren't constantly
in the feed, you basically don't exist. I mean,
the algorithm is basically an apex predator,
right? It demands to be fed daily. It really
does. And there's this pervasive... Almost existential
fear among creators that if you disappear for
even a month, let alone a year You are just going
to be erased from the cultural memory. The machine
just moves on without you But then you look at
the absolute highest echelons of music history
and you find this incredible glaring anomaly,
like a musical white whale who completely shatters
that entire modern formula. Someone who disappears
not for weeks or even months, but for entire
decades at a time. Decades. And when she finally
decides to just casually stroll back into the
public eye, the entire world stops, goes totally
silent and listens. It's wild to think about.
So welcome to today's We are so thrilled to have
you here with us, because today we're exploring
the enigmatic, enduring legacy of Helen Folassado
-Doux. Though you and the rest of the globe probably
know her simply as Saad. Right. We're pulling
from this remarkably comprehensive biographical
profile of her life, her discography, and just
her massive cultural impact. And our mission
today is really to decode the paradox of SAD.
Like, how does an artist who takes 10 -year hiatuses,
who avoids the press like it's a literal contagion,
and actively shuns the entire pop star machine?
How does she manage to build one of the most
profitable and influential catalogs in music
history? It's fascinating. The less she gives
the machine, the more powerful her legacy actually
becomes. It defies every single rule of the industry.
Okay, let's unpack this. How does a fashion design
student from Essex end up creating the best -selling
debut by a British female vocalist ever? Well,
we really have to start with the origin story
because it completely dictates the way she moved
through the rest of her career. Right, right.
So to understand her trajectory, you have to
look way outside of a recording studio. She was
actually born in Ibadan, Nigeria, in 1959. OK.
And her middle name, Folassad, it actually means
crowned with wealth in Yoruba. Oh, wow. That
is incredibly fitting. Isn't it? Yeah. But she
moved to England when she was four and grew up
in Essex. The really crucial turning point, though,
the crucible where her identity is truly forged,
is when she moves to London. To study fashion
design, right, at St. Martin's School of Art.
And St. Martin's is this legendary institution
for creatives. I mean, it's not just a school.
It's like a cultural incubator. Right. And she
wasn't just studying fashion conceptually. You
know, she was actually living it. She was making
her own clothes, diving into menswear tailoring.
She even modeled briefly. I can totally see that.
And this background is basically the master key
to understanding her early success. When she
eventually transitioned into music initially,
just singing backup for this British Latin soul
band called Pride, she possessed this superpower
that most young artists spend a decade trying
to get. Which is knowing exactly who she was
visually. Yes. She didn't need a stylist or an
image consultant or like a mood board from some
record executive. Because she was the architect
of her own aesthetic from day one. Exactly. She
was already constructing those sharp suits, the
slick back hair, the iconic red lip. So by the
time she formed a songwriting partnership with
Pride's guitarist and saxophonist, Stuart Matthew
Men, and they started doing these mini sets at
Pride gigs, she was already presenting this fully
formed artistic vision. Completely. And that
actually brings up a really crucial detail that
gets lost when people talk about her. Oh, about
the name? Yeah. Saad isn't just her name as a
solo artist. It's the name of the entire band.
Yes. Let's pause on that because I think it completely
changes how we view her sound. It wasn't just
Helen Fulasado and a bunch of hired session musicians.
Not at all. The band was Saad, Stuart Matthew
Man, keyboardist Andrew Hale, and bassist Paul
Denman. They forged their sound together like.
totally organically. It really did. But wait,
I want to push back on the timeline of their
rise here, because looking at the sources, it
shows something that just doesn't compute with
normal music industry mechanics. How do you mean?
Well, usually a band forms. They play a bunch
of empty dive bars. They hand out rough demos.
They slowly build a local following. Right. But
Saad seemed to step into the spotlight and instantly
cause a riot. I mean, they were playing the Heaven
Night Club in London in 1983 before they even
signed a record deal, and 1 ,000 people had to
be turned away at the door. It's crazy. Like,
how does a band without a label build that much
organic hype in 1983, long before the internet,
long before viral TikToks? Well, it really comes
down to the mechanics of London's underground
club scene at the time. In the early 80s, London
nightlife was fiercely tribal. Tribal in what
way? Like you had the new romantics over here,
the punk remnants over there, the early synth
pop crowds, and word of mouth in these hyper
-specific tastemaker circles was just incredibly
potent. Oh, I see. Side tapped right into this
burgeoning underground soul and jazz funk scene.
So you combine this incredibly tight live band
playing a totally fresh sound with an unbelievably
chic front woman who already looks like a global
superstar. Yeah, the tastemakers are gonna talk.
Exactly, the DJs talk, the fashion students talk.
The hype just became this physical, undeniable
force that the record labels had to chase instead
of the other way around. Which completely flips
the power dynamic. When Epic Records finally
signed them in 1983, they weren't molding some
naive artists. No, they were acquiring a fully
realized enterprise. And that leads right to
the explosion. In 1984, they dropped Diamond
Life and they recorded the entire thing in just
six weeks in London. Six weeks. And it absolutely
detonates. I mean, it sells over six million
copies globally, wins a Brit award. You've got
Smooth Operator and Your Love is King instantly
becoming these massive international anthems.
And they followed it up almost immediately with
Promise. in late 1985, which became their first
album to hit number one on the U .S. Billboard
200. And that album spawned The Sweetest Taboo,
which stayed on the U .S. Hot 100 for an astonishing
six months. Six months is an eternity in pop
music. It really is. And then in 1986, she actually
became the first Nigerian born artist to win
a Grammy, taking home best new artist. You know,
the demand was so feverish that radio stations
actually had to change their operational playbook.
I love this part. Right. Top 40 radio in the
80s was so heavily reliant on playing just the
designated hit singles, but listeners were so
obsessed with the sonic texture of this band
that radio programmers reinstated this old 1970s
FM radio practice. Of playing deep cuts. Yes.
They started adding non -singles like that sprawling
cinematic track, Is It a Crime? straight into
their heavy rotation just to satisfy the public.
What's really fascinating here is the stark contrast
between her sound and what was dominating the
cultural landscape in the mid -1980s. Oh, yeah.
Picture the 80s. Right, it was loud. You had
neon aesthetics, aggressive synthesizers, massive
stadium rock drums, vocalists basically belting
at the top of their lungs. And into this totally
hyper -stimulated environment walks Sod. And
the industry really tried to categorize it like...
Was it smooth jazz? Was it quiet storm? You know,
that late night R &B format with relaxed tempos?
Or was it sophisticated pop, combining pop melodies
with jazz arrangements? Exactly. They didn't
know what to do with it. It's like she brought
a whisper to a screaming match and somehow the
whisper won. That's a great way to put it. Other
singers were doing these massive exhausting vocal
acrobatics and she just stood there totally poised
delivering these incredibly restrained lines.
Our source material actually quotes the New Yorker
on this and they described her voice so beautifully.
What did they say? They called it a grainy contralto
full of air that betrays a slight ache. but no
agony, and values even imperfect dignity over
a show of pain. Oh, wow. Values imperfect dignity
over a show of pain. Yeah. That is just the defining
characteristic of her entire persona, isn't it?
It really is. She never over emotes. She leaves
space in the music. The bass lines actually breathe.
The saxophone is smooth. It's not frantic. It
forces you to lean in rather than blasting you
against the wall. Exactly. But here's where it
gets really interesting, I think. Just as she
reaches this stratospheric level of global fame,
she does the unthinkable. Yep. Every other artist
in this position locks into a relentless, exhausting
album tour album cycle. You know, you have to
cash in while the iron is hot. That's the industry
rule. That's odd. After releasing Love Deluxe
in 1992, which was another massive hit, she just
vanishes for eight years. And eight years in
pop music isn't just a hiatus. It's an entire
geologic era. I mean, entire genres are born,
mainstreamed and die in eight years. Grunge came.
And when in that time, boy band explosion happened.
But I want to challenge the narrative around
this hiatus a little bit because the common story
is always that she just wanted to live a normal
life. Right. But wait, is it really just a desire
for a quiet life or is there an element of intense,
almost paralyzing perfectionism at play here?
That's a good question. Because it's hard to
believe an artist of that caliber simply stops
caring about the work. Does she step away because
she's living or because she just refuses to release
anything less than a masterpiece? That is a phenomenal
distinction, actually. And the sources suggest
it's really a combination of both. OK. It's not
that she stops caring about the work. It's that
she respects the work too much to force it. In
an industry utterly obsessed with constant output,
she realized that you cannot write authentically
about the human experience if your only experience
is the inside of a tour bus or a luxury hotel.
Right. You need actual life experiences. Exactly.
By moving to the Caribbean, raising her child,
and later buying this rundown cottage in the
Gloucestershire countryside to renovate, she
was gathering real, grounded material. So the
perfectionism lies in only returning to the studio
when the well of inspiration is organically full
again. Precisely. And the gamble caved off spectacularly.
When the band finally returned in 2000 with Lover's
Rock, it was a massive success, earning her another
Grammy. And then, incredibly, she took an even
longer break. Yeah, 10 full years before releasing
Soldier of Love in 2010. And we have to look
at the numbers on that 2010 return, because it
defies all commercial logic. Greatest. Soldier
of Love debuts at number one in the US, selling
502 ,000 copies in its first week alone. Unbelievable.
It set a record for the longest gap between number
one albums for a group, nearly 25 years between
Promise hitting number one and Soldier of Love
hitting number one. And you can't forget the
tours. Oh, right. The 2001 tour grossed $26 million.
Right. And the 2011 tour, over $50 million. So
the scarcity actually created an insatiable demand.
Yes. Because she never saturated the market.
Every single release felt like a monumental cultural
event. So what does this all mean for you? If
you are listening to this right now and you're
feeling that pressure to constantly be on, you
know, constantly producing, constantly hustling
in your career or even just on your social media.
Oh, yeah, the burnout is real. Side is the ultimate
proof that scarcity has incredible value. setting
boundaries and occasionally stepping back entirely,
it doesn't diminish your relevance. In her case,
refusing to be accessible actually fueled her
professional mystique. And if we connect this
to the bigger picture. That grounding, that total
lack of trying to chase trends, it led to one
of the most surprising twists in her legacy.
Oh, I know where you're going with this. Right.
If you ask the average person who Saad's biggest
fans are, they might guess like adult contemporary
listeners or jazz enthusiasts. Sure. But her
influence on hip hop and R &B is absolutely staggering.
The list of disciples is totally wild. You have
the legendary rapper Rakim of Eric B and Rakim
directly rephrasing Smooth Operator on his 1988
track Microphone Fiend. Yeah. You have Kanye
West taking to his blog in 2010 when Soldier
of Love dropped. He wrote, And Rick Ross literally
declared in an interview, There's never been
a bad side track. It's amazing. And it goes beyond
just name -dropping. R &B legends like the Lata
Lea, Brandi, Missy Elliott, they all cite her
as a core sonic influence. And Tella Quelli said
he learned the concept of precision as a live
performer just by watching her navigate the stage
during the Love Deluxe Tour at Madison Square
Garden. She even crosses over into heavy metal,
strangely enough. Really? Heavy metal? Yeah.
Chino Moreno, the front man of death tones, frequently
names her as a massive inspiration. Rolling Stone
actually ranked her at number 51 on their greatest
singers of all time list back in 2023. But let's
dig into the mechanics of that hip hop connection
for a second. Why does a British Nigerian singer
living in rural England become the patron saint
of 90s and 2000s hip hop? Well, what do you think?
I think it has a lot to do with the sonic architecture
of her music. Think about 90s boom bap hip hop.
It relies heavily on these deep, walking bass
lines, sparse drum pockets, jazz samples. Right.
Sade's band was already building these incredibly
spacious, bass heavy, jazz inflected grooves.
It was practically begging to be sampled or rhymed
over. The sonic alignment is definitely there,
I agree. But there is a deep ideological alignment
too. What do you mean? Well, what does hip hop
value above almost everything else? Authenticity.
Exactly. Staying relentlessly true to your own
roots, keeping your circle tight, and never bending
to what the mainstream pop establishment dictates.
Oh, that makes total sense. Sade never once chased
a musical trend. She never tried to add new jack
swing drums in the 90s or auto -tune in the 2000s.
She just sounded like Sade. Great. So to rappers
and producers who pride themselves on artistic
integrity and navigating the gritty realities
of the industry on their own terms, she became
the ultimate symbol of unwavering commitment
to self. It's almost like she is the coolest
person in the room, exactly, because she's not
trying to be. She isn't looking around to see
what everyone else is doing. She's entirely self
-contained. Perfectly said. And that self -containment
extends deep into her personal life too, which
is full of these incredibly striking contrasts.
We talked about her massive success, but back
in the 1980s, before the breakthrough, she and
her boyfriend were literally squatting in an
abandoned building in Tottenham trying to make
ends meet. Wow. Fast forward and she is making
rare public appearances at Buckingham Palace
to receive an OBE and later a CBE. And for listeners
outside the UK or unfamiliar with the honor system,
the OBE Order of the British Empire and the CBE
Commander of the Order of the British Empire,
these are massive national honors bestowed by
the monarch. Yeah, it's a huge deal. You're officially
being recognized as a foundational pillar of
British arts and culture. So going from squatting
in Tannam to being decorated by royalty is a
breathtaking trajectory. And throughout all of
this, her lyrical focus has remained remarkably
consistent. As the New Yorker aptly noted, her
songs focus on the heavier lifting inside love,
commitment, consistency, friendship. Yes. While
modern pop music often obsesses over the toxic
or fleeting or explosive phases of infatuation,
Saad writes about steadfast devotion, mature
love. And we've actually seen the ultimate real
-world manifestation of that devotion recently.
Yes, we have. In 2016, on National Coming Out
Day, Saad's child, Isaac, came out as a transgender
man. And Isaac has been very open online, frequently
posting these profound messages, thanking his
mother for her unwavering, deeply present support
by his side throughout his entire transition
process. And this leads to a truly beautiful
moment in the source material. In 2024, after
years of silence, Saad actually released a new
piece music. Oh Young Lion, right? Exactly. She
contributed a track called Young Lion to a compilation
album called Tra. This was a massive project
organized by the Red Hot Organization to support
transgender awareness. And the song is a tender
musical dedication directly to her son. Which
raises an important question about how artists
choose to use their platforms. Saeed speaks so
rarely. She does not give interviews. She does
not post her opinions online. She doesn't do
the talk show circuit. She fiercely guards her
privacy. So you have to analyze why a woman who
values her silence so much chose this specific
cause to break it. Well, it perfectly aligns
with those lifelong lyrical themes, doesn't it?
She writes about unconditional devotion and this
is the ultimate public display of a mother's
unconditional devotion Yeah, when she does use
her voice the impact is magnified a thousand
times Precisely because of her usual restraint
the emotional stakes are just so incredibly high
because we know she doesn't do this casually
That is the profound power of quiet when you
aren't shouting all the time people lean in to
hear what you have to say They really do and
the industry continues to recognize that impact
In 2023, she was invited to be inducted into
the Songwriters Hall of Fame. And in 2024, she
received a nomination for the Rock and Roll Hall
of Fame. Plus, she's done some recent soundtrack
contributions too, like Flower of the Universe
and The Big Unknown back in 2018. And there are
rumors. which, you know, with Psy, you always
have to treat with a healthy dose of skepticism
given her timeline. Of course. But there are
strong rumors of a new album in progress. The
band reportedly spent a couple of weeks in 2022
at the legendary Miraval Studios in the south
of France. Oh, wow. And that is a deeply historic
space for them as they were returning there for
the first time since they recorded parts of Promise
and Stronger Than Pride back in the 80s. I just
find myself in genuine awe of how elegantly she
navigates fame. Just imagine Imagine the sheer
unadulterated discipline it takes to hold back,
to wait, and to only speak when you truly have
something to say. It is a discipline most people
simply do not possess, let alone global superstars
who have entire corporate teams begging them
for new material. She essentially built an entire
universe on her own terms, inviting us in only
when the work was completely ready, and shutting
the door when it was time to live her life. She
showed the world that you don't have to surrender
your humanity or your privacy or your peace of
mind to achieve immortality in art. You can keep
your life for yourself and let the work stand
on its own. Absolutely. It's just an incredible
journey. We started this deep dive looking at
an Essex fashion student making her own menswear
suits, and we've tracked her path to becoming
a record -breaking, genre -defying global icon.
Someone who commands the deep respect of everyone
from Buckingham Palace to hip -hop royalty simply
by refusing to compromise her vision. Which brings
us back to where we started with a thought I
really want to leave you with. If Saad built
one of the most powerful and enduring legacies
in modern pop culture through mystery, restraint,
and a complete refusal to overshare. It really
makes you wonder about our modern obsession with
digital visibility. Exactly. Are we actually
diluting our own personal power by putting everything
on display? What would happen if you stopped
broadcasting every minor victory and setback?
That's a great question. What if you took a Saad
-style hiatus from proving yourself to the world?
Maybe, by stepping back, guarding your energy,
and cultivating your own white whale of a mystery,
you'd finally find the clarity you've been looking
for.