Sade Seeks to One-Yup the Competition With Its Sultry Yet Sedate Approach

Sade’s music has two speeds (slow and slower) and two touches (light and lighter). It figured that in concert the London-based group would want to snap out of the slumber that envelops the “Diamond Life” and “Promise” albums, and maybe even branch into some new territory to relieve the monotony of the two LPs.

But on Thursday at the Universal Amphitheatre, the quartet and its six supplemental musicians stayed smack in the middle of the road--a location they seem destined to rule for a while.

That’s due mainly, of course, to Sade Adu, the exotic chanteuse who fronts the band and gives it its name. The Nigerian singer’s almond-eyed mystique is perfect for the video age’s star-making process, and her group’s slinky, quasi-jazz-pop stood in sharp relief from standard fare when they made their splash early this year.

But the new “Promise” album doesn’t take it anywhere new, and the conservative nature of the show made the group seem less like a pioneering force than a new refuge from the forces of innovation and aggression. Thursday’s racially mixed crowd was yupscale and semi-hip, and went delirious whenever the saxophone got close to Michael Matthewman’s mouth.

With its overtones of glamour and its sultry samba beat, this music has a certain appeal, and Adu writes some interestingly downbeat and bittersweet lyrics. But she didn’t work up enough intensity to zing them into your soul. To make what she does compelling in concert, she’d have to pull a Rickie Lee Jones and theatricize herself. The whole sound and image seem to be made for that kind of stylized approach, but Adu seemed determined at the amphitheater to come across as a straightforward, no-nonsense, down-to-earth gal--with a touch of regal dignity. She was so sedate, though, that she didn’t really project those qualities either--they came out best not in the music, but in her quirky introductions of the musicians.

An alternative would be to branch out musically, but Adu and company are apparently specialists. Versatility is not their forte, and when they tried to fire up their lukewarm pop they just tended to get showy. Adu isn’t really a jazz singer, and she didn’t do enough improvising and stretching to make things exciting.

Some daring phrasing near the end of the set made you wish you could hear her in a small nightclub, where the intimacy is built in and she could simply relax and show what she can do. She seems lost and restricted in a big theater, but with people buying her the way they are--the new album is nearing the Top 10, and she sold out two nights at the 6,000-seat Amphitheatre--that’s not likely.

Adu’s voice sounded a little huskier than on the records, and had a slightly rougher texture, which helped. Because of the music’s monotony--and because his voice was higher than hers--Adu’s duet with backup songer Leroy Osbourne was easily the set’s highlight. Otherwise, it was tame to the point of torpor.