The Right Time For Flyte Tyme

TAKE ONE man with a vision. Surround him with a core group of talented musicians and songwriters. And have them work together in a Midwestern city to create a sound. Apply the sound to various young occasionally talented unknowns whose images and every move can be manipulated.

And voila, a new era in R&B and pop music shall be born.

In the 1960s, a short enigmatic man named Berry Gordy was the man with the vision; the team of Holland-Dozier-Holland provided the songs; Detroit provided the locale and dozens of local teenagers became the Supremes, Marvellettes, Temptations, Miracles and more. Gordy controlled the sound and groomed the future stars from their clothes to their choreography. The result, of course, was Motown--and a new era in party music.

In the '80s, the names have changed but the song remains the same. Prince, also short and mysterious, is the man with the vision. Jimmy Jam, Terry Lewis, Jesse Johnson, Wendy Melvoin, and Lisa Coleman are among the visionary's close-knit circle of talented friends. Unlikely Minneapolis is the setting and unknown starlet types, mostly Prince's girlfriends, have turned into recording "artists" like Vanity, Appolonia, and Sheila E.

Like Motown was at the time, the Minneapolis Sound (not to be mistaken with alternative rock's Minneapolis Sound of the Replacements and Husker Du, among others) was new and fresh. Powerful bass, a driving funk beat, suggestive lyrics and occasional guitar riffs propelled the Sound to the top with fans and critics both, a rare feat.

The Minneapolis Sound also created its own formula of simple melodies based on only a few notes and tempos. And although their image was decidedly less squeaky clean and wholesome than those of Motown stars, the Time, Vanity 6 and Sheila E. were similarly choreographed in look and performance.

NOW IN 1987, the Minneapolis movement seems to be going through the same trials that Motown did around 1967.

Twenty years ago, the Motown Sound was no longer a great breakthrough. It still produced hits, but the misses were coming more often. Florence Ballard left the Supremes. Holland-Dozier-Holland left the label to write on their own. Civil rights activists criticized Motown stars for catering to the bland tastes of the while, pop-music fan.

Much the same can be said for the latest batch of releases from the Minneapolis Sound. Prince's backup band, the Revolution, has dispersed. Wendy & Lisa's first project away from supporting Prince as members of the Revolution is an awkward, mystical disaster. Sheila E.'s most recent album is worth more for the seductive cover than the music inside it. And, horror of horrors, former time members turned successful producers Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis have announced that Pia Zadora's upcoming LP is next on their list of projects for their Flyte Tyme Productions team.

BUT, as Alexander O'Neal's latest album, the Jam/Lewis produced and written Hearsay, demonstrates, there's an advantage in using the same formula. They say that practice makes perfect, and in this instance, Jam and Lewis just about perfect what they've practiced many times before with artists as diverse as the SOS Band and Herb Alpert.

Jam and Lewis have constructed Hearsay as almost a companion piece to their triumph of last year, Janet Jackson's Control, On Control, Janet plays the jilted female who has decided to take `control' of her life. As the album progresses, Janet's resolve weakens and she ends up returning to a man in the album's closer, "Funny How Time Flies."

O'Neal's Hearsay takes the viewpoint of the seducer or persuader, not the persuaded. Filled with slow jams, the album's concept is a party at O'Neal's house. Annoying between-song patter gives the aura of a small gathering and sets the scene for O'Neal to make his moves on his lady.

The hard-driving, meanspirited hit single, "Fake," makes reference to one of Janet's hits when it pointedly talks about "nasty bass." And as Alexander sings, "All you ever do is criticize," he seems to be directly responding to Janet's challenge, "What Have You Done For Me Lately?"

However, because he must play warm and seductive as opposed to Janet's tough and funky, O'Neal is confined to mostly mellow and smooth R&B tunes. Except for "Fake," "Criticize," and the opener, "What Can I Say to Make You Love Me," the album is hardly suited for the party dj's turntable.

And this isn't necessarily bad, for slow jams are one of the Jam/Lewis team's more recent specialties. Expertly smooth synthesizer work focusing on a pattern of three or four chimelike notes laid on top of heavily seductive slow rhythms, with horns thrown in here and there; it's a recipe they use in almost every song.

FROM Human League's "Human," to SOS Band's "The Finest," the sound is unmistakeable. The difference on O'Neal's "The Lovers," "Sunshine," and "Never Knew Love Like This" (a gospelish duet with Cherrelle) is O'Neal's voice.

O'Neal, in another Motown parallel, is a modern-day Marvin Gaye, able to sing powerfully on both funk jams and ballads. And for Jam and Lewis, accustomed to the frail voice of Jackson or the nonexistent voice of Alpert, a real singer completes the framework they've needed to perfect their sound.

Hearsay is good, almost classic stuff, but not too original. If the Minneapolis crew keeps making music like Alexander O'Neal's album, it certainly won't be a total waste of vinyl. But some inspiration for innovation will soon be needed if Flyte Tyme wants to keep flying so high.