By Vincent Thomas

The only way for Sa-Ra to submerge what can seem like an overwhelming image campaign is to drown the hipster fashion and lifestyle identifiers under the weight of music more dope than the cocaine references on the album. The Hollywood Recordings may not be the proper, major-label recording that Sa-Ra set out to release during their now defunct business-relay with Kanye’s G.O.O.D. Music, but it is nonetheless a watershed moment in this new-direction music we call Bridge. Almost any reference to Sa-Ra and its three members (Taz Arnold, Om’Mas Keith and Shafiq Husayn) refers to their hipster fashion, counter-culture leanings (authentic or contrived) and the music they create; which skates in and out of so many different genres.

The influences are easily discernible. The “Rosebud” intro features a new incarnation of the Parliament-famed, helium-voiced Sir Nose and a muddy-pulsed rhythm that doesn’t leave much for the imagination. Their ode to coke-sniffing fly girls on the come-up (“Tracy”) reminds us of the titular writing Prince used to lace Sheila E. and Vanity with. And that is what this album sets out to accomplish: to cinematize the parallel world we know as Hollywood. In

There are times, however, that Sa-Ra is not on their game and it’s those moments that keep this album from being the touchstone it was capable of. “Bitch” makes one think Sa-Ra wrote it for Marcus Houston; and, no matter what you think about versatility or accessibility, trite is trite. “Not On Our Level” features Capone and NORE spouting rappidy-rap meant for a Swizz Beats compilation. These lowlights, though, are ultimately overshadowed by the album’s highlights. “And If”, “Do Me Gurl”, “Glorious” and “Fish Fillet” (with Pharaohe Monch) are the type of songs that edify a listener; songs that progressively add a new instrument, a new melody, and a new mood, as the tune forges ahead into unique territory. The lyrics are not Dylanesque and don’t always evoke Stevie Wonder type depth, but this is Bridge music – a genre where lyrics are an ingredient, not the entrée. With the odd, dissonant, stark harmonies placed with haphazard calculation here and there like a Monk solo, Sa-Ra vocals act more as another instrument than some crooning vehicle. And when they’re not emceeing, Talib Kweli is (“Feel The Bass”), when they’re not singing, Eykah Badu and Georgia Anne Muldrow are (“Fly Away”).

A collective voice like Sa-Ra’s doesn’t come along too often. If this is merely a primer, so be it. If Sa-Ra’s comportment is a little over-the-top, oh well. The music can drop the tightest jaw – it’s Glorious.