Innervisions (1973) - Stevie Wonder

Stevie Wonder’s run of five albums from 1972 through 1976, culminating in the greatest double album of all time, the masterful Songs in the Key of Life, is widely considered to be one of the greatest stretches of continued musical genius ever documented on record. Personally, I would rank only the '65 - '69 Beatles run and the '82 - '87 Prince run on the same level. While no one disputes that each record in that streak is an unmitigated triumph, the discussion mainly revolves around the question of which record can be held up as the best, the ultimate testament to the unique genius of Stevie Wonder. Many point to the sprawling double album opus Songs in the Key of Life as the definitive expression of his talents, while others point to the funky Talking Book or the gospel-infused Fulfillingness' First Finale, but to me, his strongest work will always be Innervisions, one of the boldest statement records ever released.

Musically, Wonder continues to show off his unmatched virtuosity in the studio, not just as a songwriter but as a musician. Other musicians, like Paul McCartney, had made albums where they played nearly all the instruments, but for Wonder to do so at only 23, while also dealing with blindness is truly miraculous. He plays nearly every sound you hear on the record, the only session players are there to provide the occasional guitar or bass part, or are purely backing vocalists. On four of the nine songs, Wonder is the only musician on the entire track.

Wonder had solidified his personal style on his previous two records, blending R&B ad funk with a jazzy, hyper-melodic flair, but with this album he was able to expand his sonic revolution into a entirely new approach to songwriting. Here, he restructures pop songs into opuses, that are charged with his most mature lyrics yet, tackling heavy, impactful themes of the political, the spiritual, as well as the romantic, much like his Motown predecessor Marvin Gaye did two years prior on the revolutionary What's Going On. Here, Wonder shifts from writing about the individual to the collective, taking on political and spiritual concerns with the maturity and insight of a much older and wiser man. Keep in mind that Wonder recorded this album at only 23 years old. This record truly shows a young genius peaking.

This radical shift in Wonder’s own writing style is evident from the opening track, the gurgling clavinet-driven funk of “Too High” a song which directly challenges the prevalence of drug abuse among the youth. The song is brilliant in how it matches form to content, with the lyrics deftly exploring how the protagonist is unable to tell reality from her own LSD-infused visions with the hallucinogenic instrumental, with its unsteady bass line and stinging electric piano riffage. The song's off-kilter energy perfectly matches the message he hopes to convey, the song feels like a bad trip, but it's funky enough that you wanna take it again and again. The sonic highlight is the jazzy scat harmonies of the backing vocalists which never quite resolve melodically, leaving you with a feeling of tension that fits so well with the lyrics about living in a drugged out haze. The song is a harrowing portrait of addiction while also being an A1 funk song, that's a hard line to walk and Wonder does it with ease.

This is arguably Wonder’s most sonically cohesive record, as shown by the way that each song seems to effortlessly flow into the next with little differentiation between each one, making it impossible to listen to just one song as opposed to the entire record. Soon we transition effortlesly from the ersatz funk of "Too High" into the wispy, heartfelt ballad "Visions", which sees Wonder writing with such grace and emotion about the world he wishes to live in, as opposed to the one we live in now. It is an idealistic song, but it is always grounded in reality, as he answers each desire with the haunted refrain of "Is this a vision in my mind?", leaving us to question if a world at peace is even possible. It is a realist's vision for the future, one where Stevie shows us that we can all wish for a world where these prevalent issues no longer persist, but that action must be taken to get there. The fact that this album's struggles remain so resonant today, over fifty years on, is more than troublesome, it is tragic. Vocally, Stevie delivers a show-stopping performance, using restraint and nuance to make the few moments where he lets loose hit all the harder. The song is shrouded in a dreamy, keyboard-led haze which puts all the focus on Wonder's gorgeous vocals. The song is the best representative Wonder’s brand of social commentary, never needlessly depressing, but never hopeful without real reason to be.

The album’s centerpiece comes in the form of the eight minute funk masterpiece “Living for the City”, perhaps Wonder's most viscerally powerful song. Lyrically, Stevie weaves a tale that succintly expounds on countless issues of Black life through the story of an impoverished young man moving from Mississippi to NYC during the Great Migration. The way he paints each verse as a character study on hard living is masterful, and tragically it still feels resonant today, even if the specific issues have changed, the sentiment remains, that many people are living just enough for the city. The portrait we get of the family at the center of the song is devastating and detailed, with each lyric tackling another systemic roadblock, whether it be pay inequality, sexual harrassment and most crushingy in the song's brutal spoken word breakdown, the reality of police violence and the cruelty of the American justice system. The song's narrative is absolutely chilling, and Wonder plays the moment with icy gravitas, stripping away all the gutbucket funk of the track and allowing the exchange to speak for itself, like a film. While the lyrics are masterful, the music behind them is just as good, with Wonder laying down a ferocious, stripped down groove with a thumping bass and drum attack along with the dreamy, hazy keys of Wonder's piano. Emotion drips off of Wonder's vocal performance, which strains and pleads at all the right moments, you can hear his voice break during one chorus, and it hits all the harder for it. The song also feels innovative and futuristic for the time, due to the striking synthesizer led instrumental bridge, unlike anything else coming out of the Motown stable. The chorus itself is impressively catchy, which is smart as it allows the most politically charge song the staying power to stay in your mind. If you listen to any song off this album, make it this one, as it remains one of the best pieces of political art I've ever encountered.

Stevie ends the A-Side with the album's prettiest moment, the soaring soul pop of “Golden Lady”. While the album has been heavy so far, this provides a much needed moment of lightness, with its spry Latin tinged groove and Wonder's brilliant, acrobatic vocal performance. The track is a simple love song with a soaring, ascendant melody to die for which Wonder sings to perfection. The album is a masterpiece of sequencing, as any earlier it wouldn't have had the same impact, but after the chilling "Living for the City", it works wonders. The album's bounciest, most pop-friendly moment and one of my favorites for sure.

The B-Side opens up with a bang as the electric "Higher Ground" provides the record with its purest slice of funk yet. Wonder's albums usually had at least one stomping, deathless groove and this is certainly the case for "Higher Ground", which sees Wonder work overtime on the clavinet, laying down sizzling lick after lick over top of the throbbing rhythm section. While it's impossible not to dance to this one, it's nevertheless a thoughtful funk jam, with Stevie delivering a set of lyrics all about his spirituality, reveling in the idea of reincarnation, singing from the perspective of someone sent back to earth to live a life of morality after one of sin, which lead to the joyousness of Wonder's vocal performance. This introduction of Eastern religious concepts enriches the record in a way that was radical for the time and what makes the album lyrically so diverse. The genius of Stevie Wonder is his ability to convey joy better than almost any other artist I've encountered, and this song is one of the best examples of thast phenomenon. You get happier by listening to this song, it's a pick me up for the ages. While most of this album works best as a full experience, you can throw this song on any time and it's an immediate serotonin boost.

The funk continues with the album’s least traditional track, the jumbled, accusatory “Jesus Children of America”, the spiritual flipside to the joyous “Higher Ground”. Here, Wonder vents his frustrations at the institutions that drive Christinaity. The song is full of mixed messages, both praising the religion and those who follow its tenets with love while also critiquing so-called holy rollers for abusing the messages of God. Lyrically the song’s cut and paste approach can be disconcerting, but it parallels Wonder’s own mixed feelings in a compelling way, and he delivers them with such passion in his voice that it’s hard not to be drawn in. Musically, this stab at funk is much murkier than the previous track, it's a dark, twisted groove focused mainly on the droning synth-bass line, which bobs and weaves like a boat at sea. When this is your album's slowest moment, then you know it's a masterpiece.

Wonder delivers the album's most emotionally powerful moment on the devastatingly beautiful piano ballad, "All in Love Is Fair". Wonder's ballads are always strong, but this is on another level entirely, seeing him deliver what might be the best vocal performance of his career, hitting each note with a stirring, soulful quality that radiates with heartache and passion. This is the only song on the album to feature Wonder more or less alone at the piano, and his playing is really highlighted here, delivering countless jazzy, melodic flourishes which give the song a real sense of gravitas. It's no wonder that this song has become something of a standard in the years following, earning versions by Barbra Streisand, Dionne Warwick and Michael McDonald, but none compare to the rawness of Stevie's original. Lyrically, this is one of Wonder's most nuanced pieces, exploring the parallels between his own heartbreak with the trials of an author, showing how both must start over again and again, assuring themselves that "all in love is fair" just one more time. It's hard to put how beautiful this song is into words, it needs to be listened to in order to be fully appreciated. Every melisma is worthy of its own paragraph.

After the album's most stark moment we get the most joyous with the ebullient pop hooks of "Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing", which sees Stevie deliver a veritable deluge of hooky, energetic Latin pop melody. This is definitively the most fun Wonder has on the album (especially on the delightfully silly spoken word intro), singing the bouncy, breezy chorus over top of the jovial piano arrangement and groovy rhythm section. This is certainly one of the most life-affirming songs in Stevie's massive oeuvre, allowing us to take it easy for a moment, because life is never all doom and gloom, there is joy to find in everything and this song makes that clear. The record truly is a showcase of life in so many ways, with Wonder expertly portraying both the joy and the pain in almost equal measure, showing that both exist and that they can exist in collaboration with one another. That's what sets this album apart.

Wonder ends the record with the mid-tempo piano ballad, “He’s Misstra Know It All”, a witty takedown of then President Richard Nixon. Lyrically, Wonder delivers barb after barb at the Commander in Chief, painting a harsh but accurate portrait of Nixon as a con man and a hack. This wouldn't be Wonder's last pot shot at Nixon, with the smash hit "You Haven't Done Nothin'" coming the next year, but this song cuts straight to his core in a way the others don't. The harmonies on display in the song's final moments are one of the album's most lush parts, with Wonder overdubbing a choir of himself chiding the president in gospel fashion. The song starts out relatively politiely, but by the end he's having a ball ripping him to shreds. The song hasn’t really dated in the slightest because of the lack of specific details in the lyrics just likening the former President to a back alley con man so it can apply to any terrible corrupt authority figure, making this commentary timeless and able to be listened to again and again.

This is far from Stevie Wonder's first good album, nor was it his last, but if you told me to recommend someone who's never listened to Stevie before one album to explain what makes him such a genius, this would be my pick without question. In 44 blissful minutes, he distills what makes him such a unique musical force, delivering masterpiece after masterpiece of funk, soul and pop with lyrics tackling the poilitical, the personal and the spiritual. This is a hopeful album in spite of all its heaviness, like Marvin's brilliant What's Going On. Stevie might not know the answer to all of the societal ills he tackles here, but he understands that we must all be aware of what we are facing before we can tackle these systemic injustics head on. Wonder has rarely every performed with such conviction, his every note here cuts right to the heart. While Songs in the Key of Life is my favorite project from Stevie, as it is the purest musical distillation of joy I've ever encountered, I think this stands alone as his most impactful work. Stevie Wonder was a once in a generation talent, so pop this record on the turntable and have a vision of the past, present and future of what soul music should be.