Without any of the gothic production flourishes that put him on the map, the producer and songwriter’s latest album is gloomy, on edge, and disappointingly hollow.
Each Sunday, Pitchfork takes an in-depth look at a significant album from the past, and any record not in our archives is eligible. Today, we revisit Seal’s 1991 debut, a luxurious album that grew out of the UK rave scene and took his inimitable voice to the world.
Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin’s fuzzy, rococo synthpop confections have a magic power: They sound like whatever you grew up with, whenever that was.