Co-produced by UK dance mainstay Switch, this comeback album largely ignores all the qualities that made the Queen of Funk a legend in the first place.
On August 31, 2018, a magenta-haired, fan-carrying Chaka Khan stepped onto the stage of Detroit’s Greater Grace Temple to honor her friend and mentor Aretha Franklin. I’ve watched the video of her performance a good 20 times, mainly because of how remarkable Chaka Khan’s transformation is, how powerful she grows. She begins with “Good evening” before correcting herself and saying, “Good afternoon”; the music comes in, and her voice—famously elastic and raw—slips out, warbly and tentative. She glances a few times at the back of her fan, where the lyrics to the hymn she is singing, “Going Up Yonder,” are conspicuously pasted. There’s a good 30 seconds, the first time you see the video, where you begin to silently pray to yourself, Please don’t let this be a disaster. Several bishops sit behind her, nodding respectfully.
Then the choir starts to sway and a smile breaks out on her face. She paces the stage, a bit dazed, but in full control. Around the 2:30 mark, you can tell that Chaka Khan’s got the hang of it—she just had to warm up. The choir swells like a tidal wave and the band is locked in. Going into the third chorus, it finally happens: The Chaka Khan cry is unleashed. Pained and piercing, she summons it from somewhere deep in her stomach. It’s the same cry that punctuated the last choruses of “Ain’t Nobody” and “Through the Fire.” The respectful bishops stand up instantly, the choir sings at the top of its lungs, and Chaka Khan has risen. The performance, complete with an encore, lasts over nine minutes. She smiles as she surrenders the mic at the end, as if to remind us: She might not remember all the words or hit all the notes, but, at 65 years old, she remains the undisputed Queen of Funk.
https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/chaka-khan-hello-happiness/