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Cutting-edge pop chroniclers felt obliged to remind their readers who Sade actually was (“a comfortable heritage act,” condescended The Guardian) and that her name should be pronounced “Shar-day”.
I really don’t care, and I think a lot of the others do. Neighbours describe them as a happy bunch, unshowy and hard to equate with the £40 million estimate of Sade’s fortune.
The marriage broke up when “Sade” was four, and Anne and her daughter moved back to Britain.
They settled in Clacton-on-Sea, Essex, a deathless destination even by the standards of post-war English holiday resorts.
One of the underrated consolations of life in the Eighties was a peculiarly ritualised kind of dinner party where everyone ate chicken Kiev, wore “Coal, Not Dole” badges and bragged about how much their flats were worth, while the voice of Sade seeped slinkily from the bookshelf speakers. Last week, just as we were getting used to the idea that Adele was in with the chance of a decent career, we were reminded of who really reigns as the Queen of British Pop.
Now the mines are gone, the Kievs, scorned by sophisticated hostesses, lurk in the foods-that-time-forgot sections of supermarkets, and house prices are on the conversational no-go list. Figures from Billboard, the music industry journal, revealed that Sade Adu earned £10.5 million last year in the US alone, easily out-grossing not only the quivery-lipped Tottenham blonde, but Paul Mc Cartney, Elton John and Coldplay.