Out from under the wings of Stevie Wonder, Rufus now features Chaka Khan's sexy persona as its selling point. Her logo lips and Hiawatha leather outfits may seem inviting on the album's cover, but between the grooves she's thin.
Khan dominates the album, and though her histrionic vocals have calmed down recently, there is very little emotion in her voice to replace her wailing screams. The material is also less frantic, evenly divided between party cuts ("Have a Good Time" and "Dance wit Me") and sluggish funk tunes ("Everybody Hasan Aura" and "Circles"). An instrumental, "On Time," plods in the standard funk groove, and their cover version of the Bee Gees' "Jive Talkin'" sounds like
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roller-rink muzak. (RS 205)
TOM VICKERS
Before her solo success in the 1980s, Chaka Khan stole the show on several records with Rufus. This gem from 1975 puts her luscious vocals at center stage as she sings over quality funk-minded instrumentation. From disco-flavored party anthems to contemplative ballads, this album has it all, including the classic single "Sweet Thing," which hit No. 1 on the R&B charts.
Is Rufus a group or is it Chaka Khan with a backup band? That's a tough one. Originally a rock/soul band in the Sly mold, the first incarnation of Rufus featured fuzz guitar, organ solos and a nonorganic looseness more redolent of a white bar band than any pro soul outfit. Two of the band's original members, guitarist Al Ciner and organist Kevin Murphy, were both veterans of the teeny-bop wars on AM, having survived the American Breed (whose "Bend Me, Shape Me" became a 1967 hit). Their presence insured the band's professionalism, but it also imparted an unmistakable anonymity to the proceedings, an anonymity only belied by the boisterous personality of their lead vocalist, one Chaka Khan, who was added a mere six months before Rufus, the group's first album, was cut.
Khan quickly took command of Rufus. She possesses an extraordinary voice capable of leaping long octaves in a single bound. After languishing in the nether realms of not-quite-success, Khan and the group last year enjoyed a Cinderella stroke that catapulted Rufus to riches, namely a visit from Stevie Wonder while recording Rags to Rufus, their second LP. As legend has it, Wonder, a fan of Khan's extraordinary voice, whipped off a tune in the studio, a quivering little ditty titled "Tell Me Something Good." Rufus recorded the track replete with grunts a la Blue Swede ("Hooked on a Feeling") and bingo — a Number One gold record, dragging the LP in tow.
This unexpected turnaround in fortunes caught Rufus napping, however, and suddenly the band's old nucleus—Ciner, keyboardist/songwriter Ron Stockert and bassist/songwriter Dennis Belfield—were out on their ear, replaced by a new trio, who fortunately didn't sound so much like psychedelic retreads. Thanks to their unobtrusive accompaniment, Rufusized, the band's third disc, is Chaka Khan's most listenable yet.
By now, Rufus has become a vehicle for showcasing Chaka Khan and her idiosyncratic voice, which is finally given free rein on Rufusized. "Rufusized," the album's sole instrumental, gives the group's game away: trite (but very à la mode) synthesizer, semiclassy horn charts, a funky rhythmic bass, all sleekly compacted and circumspectly deployed, but adding up to something less than compelling.
The new material on Rufusized suffers similarly. Most of it lacks the kind of creative spark that animated "Tell Me Something Good." Truth to tell, Khan and her new crew ape the veneer of Stevie Wonder's experimental manner without penetrating its essence, his flair for economy, innovation and memorable hook lines.
Chaka Khan herself sometimes exudes an ingratiating exuberance rare in soul; at other times she sounds as if someone were strangling Valerie Simpson in a shower. Although Khan boasts an impressive range and repertoire of effects, she is overly fond of histrionic displays. I sometimes wonder whether her contortions mask a lack of personal sty
