Keys’ debut album was originally slated for release in 1998, but disenchanted with Columbia, she sought an escape route. She found it in music mogul Clive Davis, who got her out of her contract and nabbed her for J Records, the imprint he was in the process of launching while retiring from Arista Records. During a 2001 interview with The Guardian, Keys spoke on her time at Columbia:
I tried so hard to make it work, but it was all wrong. These big-name producers made me write with people I didn’t like. They messed up so the music sounded awful. Then they’d say, “Hey, baby, why don’t you come over to my place tonight?” They were so disrespectful.
Defying expectations of what a classical musician or pop star should look like, Keys reconnected with Kerry “Krucial” Brothers, who she had met in the early ’90s and would become co-producer of Songs In A Minor. Simultaneously recrafting her debut album and songwriting for Y2K R&B heartthrob Mario, Keys and Brothers settled in a one-bedroom apartment where the two would record Keys’ vocals, later going to the studio to add instrumentation.
Confidently donning signature Fulani braids, Keys’ style incorporated the poetic neo-soul movement of the new millennium with a street edge. Following aristocratic Songs In A Minor opener “Piano & I,” on which Keys flips Beethoven composition “Piano Sonata No. 14” into a hip-hop vibe, the album drifts into envious anthem “Girlfriend.” Co-produced by Jermaine Dupri, the grandiose track sampled the 1995 Ol’ Dirty Bastard cut “Brooklyn Zoo,” lending a roughneck edge to Keys’ prodigious ability. At 19, Keys ambitiously called Prince seeking permission to cover his 1982 loosie ballad “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore?” Although the Purple One was particular about his catalog, he invited Keys to his Paisley Park estate and became a lifelong friend.
Then came the song that former American Idol judge Simon Cowell jokingly banned contestants from performing at auditions. As the first single from Songs In A Minor, “Fallin’” ruminates on the frustrations of devotional love over Keys’ gospel-tinged vocals and intricate piano notes. At 20, her soul-baring lyrics had the maturity of a middle-aged woman who’s reached her wits’ end: “I keep on fallin’ in and outta love with you/ Sometimes I love ya, sometimes you make me blue/ Sometimes I feel good, at times I feel used/ Lovin’ you, darlin’, makes me so confused.”
The lyrics were simple, but the delivery struck fans and critics alike as “Fallin’” hit #1 on the Hot 100 and received numerous accolades — including four Grammy Awards in 2002, Song Of The Year and Record Of The Year. (The Grammys have their issues, but they clearly appreciate a young prodigy.) After Columbia Records doubted that Keys’ ballads would touch the masses, Davis backed Keys’ vision, sending radio spins for “Fallin’” into overdrive. Billboard eventually ranked it as the 29th most successful song of the 2000s.
Keys penned the song after reading an article about Santra Rucker, a woman who was given 13 consecutive life sentences for conspiracy — later reduced to 23 years — for protecting her boyfriend, who was a drug dealer. After Rucker was imprisoned, Keys became her pen pal, offering her moral support. Art imitates life, and in the visual for “Fallin’” a chain gang of imprisoned women lip sync the song in a gloomy field.
Like “Fallin’,” follow-up single “A Woman’s Worth” had a retro feel. Co-written with singer-songwriter, background vocalist, and former manager Erika Rose, the song was inspired by cosmetic brand Garnier, whose slogan is “because you’re worth it.” Keys sang from experience: As a new R&B act, she was often challenged to prove her value, even being manipulated to pose topless on the cover of Dazed & Confused (now known as Dazed). In a 2002 New York Times article, Keys succinctly explained why she refused to conform to industry standards:
Gracefully and without rancor, Ms. Keys’ songs contest the hip-hop mentality that often reduces women to party toys or hood ornaments. “There’s so many stereotypes and lines drawn, especially for women, as I see the more I grow,” Ms. Keys said. “And maybe you change every day. Maybe one day you’re a damn thug and the next day you’re the sweetest thing. Depending on people, you know? I’m definitely not one to look at people and judge them, but I do know that we have to raise the standard.”
The heart of Songs In A Minor was fuelled by Keys’ vulnerabilities, whether delicately voicing her anxieties on the Barry White-sampling quiet storm deep cut “Troubles” or taking artistic cues from fellow mainstream soul artists India.Arie, Maxwell, and Raphael Saddiq and transforming them into her own kind of authenticity. Staying true to the piano capabilities that she learned at 7, Keys unashamedly released the album that Columbia Records didn’t want her to make, and it debuted at #1 on the US Billboard 200. Twenty years into her inimitable career, she has continued to raise the standard.
