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There’s a continuation of the religious motifs which have dominated Sault’s shared vision from the outset.
You can somehow sense a little feeling of frustration building with Sault, at least in some quarters.
After all, we like our entertainers visible, accessible, sharing every single moment and thought with us, feeding the obsession – and falsehood – that we actually somehow know them.
Ever since they arrived (or more accurately appeared) seven years ago, the collective have ignored those rules however, refusing to be interviewed and emerging just twice for conceptually ostentatious live performances whilst releasing new material with no warning.
Those who love an AMA session have in the meantime been left to rage.
The frenetic release schedule of Sault’s early years has slowed as well, 2025 being marked only by 10, but whether the early debut for Chapter 1 is the prelude to a return to multiple drops in 2026 is, for the reasons previously stated, anybody’s guess.
In the way perhaps also is the legal stuff producer Inflo finds himself embroiled in with former high profile collaborator Little Simz; whilst the rights and wrongs will be left to the suits who will doubtless take their unfair share, the quoted sums involved are far than pocket change for anybody involved.
Which brings us back to Sault’s latest collection, a thirteenth instalment and one that features contributions from longtime collaborator Cleo Sol, Jack Peñate, former Janet Jackson hitmakers Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, and a writing credit for Danger Mouse.
As they so rarely speak, it’s worth here recounting the band’s own view of the record, that in their
words it, ‘Moves with patience and belief. Rhythm, breath, and silence sit side by side, creating a space that is reflective yet charged. There is warmth and expectation. A sense that something is gathering’.
Make of that what you will and that’s clearly the point, but if it reads from that like the thirty-six minutes and change here is something like a prelude to grander things, then that goes some way to explaining the mostly low-key musical shapes on offer.
Those equally looking for pushback against some of the recent friction might want to interpret Chapter 1’s title-track’s zingers as meant for a certain someone; “You’re just a loser/And hate that I’m a winner/Can’t get out my way/Know you like to hey”, but this is strictly playground stuff, the old skool R&B junkets carrying no real menace.
On the flipside, there’s a continuation of the religious motifs which have dominated Sault’s shared vision from the outset, opener God, Protect Me From My Enemies spends plenty of time first deciding what to be, punctuated every so often by Sol dropping a handful of Gospel-friendly aphorisms before disappearing as quickly as it arrived.
Looser than on some previous outings, in fact the whole vibe feels more jam based, although the likes of Protector, with its no frills take on retro-soul owns a Leon Bridges quality and using vocals by Melissa Young, closer Puppet contains more piano heavy breeze than the shady lyrics.
There are missteps – Love Does Not Equal Pain rumbles along unable to locate much of a tune, oddly flexing from darkness into light and back – but on the premise that this whole thing is meant to be an appetiser from more substantial episodes yet to come, any misfires can be forgiven.
There’s a little feeling of frustration gathering around Sault in certain quarters, but they shouldn’t really care.
Chapter 1 as is their usual way sets more questions, but when you’re an enigma on purpose, providing any answers is a game of your choosing.
