By the time this long-awaited album saw its release date, most fans had probably read at least a couple of interviews with Alicia Keys in which she explained that first single, "No One"--a firestorm of a song clearly born of a sore heart and steeped in serious soul-searching, was about her decision to retreat from the obligations of stardom when she found out a loved one was in need of her care. The anecdote sticks not just because it explained the song so well--you can actually hear the pain, commitment, and determination in her sultry voice--but because it gets at what makes the woman behind the music so appealing. There's only one way R&B artists grow to become legends, and it's by drenching the words they sing with feeling (think Gladys Knight, Roberta Flack). The skeptical listener might have had her doubts before As I Am, but there's no mistaking it now: Alicia Keys is well on her way to sharing a category with them. This record radiates not just old-soul maturity, the kind Alicia fans say makes her modern rarity, but real soul. Vintage-leaning hooks and horns grab hold on "Where Do We Go from Here" and an assortment of other songs, but Keys can also get by just fine without them, as she proves on more pop-flavored numbers like "Lesson Learned," with John Mayer, and "Superwoman." The genres may be smearing, she seems to say, but bring them on: she won't shrink back. Her commitment is not to a single style but to what's stirring her soul. Because of it, she's moving R&B, or something like it, from the hips back to the heart. --Tammy La Gorce
With MTV's decision to revive its much-missed "Unplugged" series came a certain obligation: Whoever was going to kick the shows off needed to have the means to deliver serious heat, Grammy-vote garnering heat. The "powers that be" couldn't have chosen better than Alicia Keys. Throughout this consistent set, marked by warmth, sincerity and a powerful lack of inhibition, Keys convinces that if she's not the new Aretha Franklin, she's a force of equal might and measure. All the favorites are here, the danceable "Karma" carries into the funky "Heartburn" and the give-it-up glory of "Unbreakable." "Fallin'," "If I Ain't Got You," and "You Don't Know My Name" come later, but interspersed are enough pleasant surprises to make even fanatical Keys followers forget the signature songs. Prince's "How Come You Don't Call Me," for instance, gets a playful work-up, complete with audience-aimed banter and an unbroken promise to "take it to the bridge," and a duet that on paper seems misguided works surprisingly well, as Keys resists any instinct to clobber Maroon 5's Adam Levine vocally. Yowling, piano pounding, hip-hop tics (the ubiquitous, emphatic "unh"), and even a spot of theatrical poetry all have their places here, but Keys manages them with a master's sense of what's song-appropriate. Her band is spot-on, her arrangements soar, and her guests--count Mos Def and Common among them--complement the proceedings without even momentarily carrying them. The best "Unplugged" discs leave a listener wishing artists would kick the amps altogether; this is one of them. --Tammy La Gorce
Alicia Keys has more than lived up to the promise of her formidable debut Songs in A Minor, pushing beyond her flirtation with old-school soul and venturing into the modern world, even hiring Timbaland to guide her through the shoals of anthemic hip-hop on the breathless and funkified "Heartburn." Sounding like a hyperthyroid cheerleader, Keys unleashes a quirky sense of humor that no one even suspected she possessed. Her effortless singing on the beat-driven "Karma" is a wonder of sonics on this uplifting piece of pop philosophy, giving countless anxious woman hope that everything will work out as it's meant to, or on "Samsonite Man," where it won't. But despite her edgy styling and jazzy vocal posturing, Keys hasn't abandoned her love for old R&B and travels back in time, giving Gladys Knight's "If I Was Your Woman" a face lift it may not have needed, then turns around and recasts the song as the winsome and dramatic "You Don't Know My Name." But at its heart, The Diary of Alicia Keys is a gross misnomer. After listening to the disc, fans will know little more about the elusive diva than they did before, her lyrical style consistently more narrative than confessional. In fact, the title track doesn't delve into the singer's inner life, but instead is about a long-distance love affair, with Keys promising the object of her affection that: "I won't tell your secrets/Your secrets are safe with me/I will keep your secrets/Just think of me as the pages in your diary."--Jaan Uhelszki
She may be beautiful, but Alicia Keys is a musician first and foremost. She plants herself firmly behind the piano keys on her debut, unlike many of the booty-waggin' junior divas who are crowding the R&B videoscape these days. Though many of the tracks on Songs in A Minor are embellished with adolescent angst, this 20-year-old's substantial, gorgeously soul-drenched alto putties the cracks between notes with astonishing ease. "Fallin'," the album's first single, showcases Keys at her best. She wails plaintively and passionately over rolling blues chords, in the tradition of the greats that this young talent clearly wants to align herself with--Stevie Wonder, Donny Hathaway, and Aretha Franklin. She swoops and soars over the spicy, flamenco-fueled melody that opens "Mr. Mann," one of the many winning tracks gathered here. And she digs deep into a remake of the beloved Prince B-side, "How Come U Don't Call Me Anymore?" packing more heat into her melismatic wails than most singers twice her age. --Sylvia W. Chan
