Anniversaries: High Priority by Cherrelle
In Cherrelle’s youthful whine and Alexander O’Neal’s hearty croon, in Jam & Lewis’s electronic grooves and soulful embellishments, there lies a musical chemistry that doesn’t fade.
More than four decades since its release, Cherrelle’s second album, High Priority, remains a vibrant time capsule of mid-‘80s R&B. In October 1985, Black radio crackled with the gentle cascade of days—“Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday…”—heralding the now-classic duet “Saturday Love.” That song, a silky Jam & Lewis groove pairing Cherrelle with label-mate Alexander O’Neal, became an anthem of weekend longing and one of the era’s defining male-female duets. It nearly topped the R&B chart at No. 2 and even crossed over to No. 26 on the Billboard Hot 100, propelling High Priority into the Top 10 of the R&B album chart and eventually gold status. For Cherrelle—born Cheryl Norton—this was a breakthrough moment. Her light, wispy soprano voice—tinged at times with a youthful whine—proved irresistible to ’80s urban audiences, especially women. That distinctive vocal style, simultaneously girlish and assertive, made High Priority a cornerstone of contemporary R&B and helped define an era when duets and intergender vocal interplay ruled the charts.
Cherrelle came into this album riding modest momentum from her 1984 debut, Fragile, which had spawned the original version of “I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On.” But if Fragile announced her arrival, High Priority elevated her to, well, a higher priority among R&B hitmakers. Key to this leap was the full dedication of producers Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. On Fragile, the rising Minneapolis duo had helmed only part of the record; on High Priority, they signed on to produce every track of her sophomore set. Jam & Lewis crafted an ideal vehicle for Cherrelle’s airy soprano, draping her voice in state-of-the-art mid-’80s production that felt sleek yet soulful. Recorded at the Flyte Tyme Studios in Minneapolis, the album loosely traced the arc of a romantic relationship—a conceptual approach hinted at by its opening and closing instrumentals and the connective interludes between songs. This narrative framework gave High Priority a subtle theatrical flair, not unlike the duo’s later concept work on Alexander O’Neal’s Hearsay, though here it’s less overt. What comes through strongly is that Jam & Lewis were at the top of their game, weaving electronic funk, tender balladry, and empowering grooves into a cohesive whole. The result was an album that captured the Flyte Tyme sound in full flight—all crisp drum-machine beats, warm synth washes, and punchy bass lines—while keeping Cherrelle’s personality front and center.
From the opening notes, Cherrelle establishes that personality with confidence. The lead-off track (and first single), “You Look Good to Me,” bounces in on a funky bassline and playful electro handclaps. Cherrelle delivers sassy, flirtatious come-ons with a no-nonsense edge, demonstrating that she can tease and taunt with equal measure. The song’s groove is pure Minneapolis funk—polished and radio-friendly, but with a streetwise undercurrent. Though “You Look Good to Me” only reached No. 26 on the R&B charts, it set the stage for the album’s thematic journey. That journey quickly takes a turn into more serious territory on “Artificial Heart,” the album’s third track and second major single. Cherrelle confronts a lover so cold and unfeeling that he might as well be mechanical. “Must’ve had a broken heart installed,” she nearly sighs over staccato synth-horns and digitized drums, dubbing him “a chip off a hardened heart.” Jam & Lewis match the song’s conceit with cutting-edge ’85 production: synthesized percussion, robotic vocal effects, and chilly keyboard stabs give “Artificial Heart” a high-tech sheen. Yet Cherrelle’s own vocals, sweetly plaintive even as she adopts a slightly robotic cadence to sell lines like “artificial heart, baby,” keep the track human at its core.
Jam & Lewis’s narrative sequencing then turns to a clever bit of storytelling. Following the heartache of “Artificial Heart,” Cherrelle serves up “New Love,” a song that—despite its title—isn’t about finding someone new at all. “Don’t misunderstand me—I’m not looking for someone new,” she clarifies to her partner, “I’m just improving what I’ve got already.” Over a midtempo groove, she vows to “use some honey or some jam to sweeten up the sour places” in their faltering relationship. It’s an amusing double entendre (a wink at Jam & Lewis’s own name, perhaps) and a testament to Cherrelle’s determination to fight for love rather than jump ship. Her delivery is steamy as she purrs those promises, walking a line between earnest and coy. But if “New Love” suggests reconciliation, the very next track, “Oh No It’s U Again,” finds Cherrelle laying down the law with an ex who just won’t quit. Set to one of the album’s edgiest, most metallic funk arrangements, she gives a firm kiss-off: “I told you that we were friends, I don’t need you screwing up my life.” The music’s jagged synth riffs and aggressive guitar accents mirror her frustration. In the span of a few songs, High Priority chronicles the rollercoaster of romance—from initial attraction and heartbreak to attempts at renewal and final closure. It’s a concept you feel more than explicitly follow, but it lends the album an emotional continuity. Through it all, Cherrelle balances sass and vulnerability, a young woman asserting her needs in love and not afraid to speak her mind.
All of this was merely the setup for High Priority’s marquee attraction: the duet that would immortalize Cherrelle’s name on R&B radio. “Saturday Love” arrives mid-album like a quiet storm after the electro-funk rain. The track opens with a memorable spoken exchange (in the album version) as Cherrelle and Alexander O’Neal meet in a bar and reconnect—“See, you haven’t changed… It’s good to see you* anyway.”* Then that iconic chorus melts in, Cherrelle softly intoning the days of the week in sequence: “Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday love…” It’s a deceptively simple hook—essentially a calendar recitation—yet utterly transfixing. Over a dreamy carpet of synths and a gentle, insistent beat, the two singers trade verses about a romance that lives for the weekends. Cherrelle enters first, her voice wistful as she confesses, “When I think about you, my feelings can’t explain/Why after all this time, my heart still feels pain.” Alexander O’Neal answers with his richer, gospel-bred baritone, adding gravity to the longing: “Time keeps ticking, time keeps ticking…” Their voices entwine in harmony, celebrating a love that might only flourish on Saturdays but sustains them all week long. The chemistry is evident—an unexpected magic in the contrast between his powerful, husky soul and her feather-light soprano. O’Neal’s voice dominates the track in presence, yet Cherrelle’s lighter touch is the emotional glue, conveying both the excitement and the ache of waiting days for a lover’s embrace. Jam & Lewis’s production gives them plenty of space, with that famous synth melody twinkling like city lights on a Saturday night.
The remainder of High Priority continues to oscillate between expressions of love and lust, ending on notes of empowerment. “Will You Satisfy?” slows the tempo to a seductive crawl, but lyrically it’s bold and ahead of its time. Over a slinky, candlelit atmosphere, Cherrelle pointedly asks her partner for what she needs. “You know everyone looks for pleasure, and a woman enjoys pleasure as much as a man,” she states bluntly, before flipping the script on passive romance and breathily declaring, “Tired of talk, want some action!” In 1985, such frank sexual agency from a female R&B singer was notable. Cherrelle delivers it with a confident purr, making it clear she’s an equal participant in the bedroom and won’t be shy about her satisfaction. It’s a perspective that resonated with many female listeners who were used to love songs where women pined or pleaded; here was one unapologetically voicing desire on her own terms. Musically, “Will You Satisfy?” is all slow-burning groove—a quiet storm jam built on simmering bass and gentle electric piano chords—giving Cherrelle the spotlight to smolder.
Every good drama needs a strong finale, and Cherrelle saves one for the album’s end. The title track “High Priority” serves as a climactic declaration of devotion. After weathering the ups and downs of love through the preceding songs, here Cherrelle sounds triumphant and assured, singing to the one who has finally proven worthy of her time. “You just might be the one… you’re a high priority with me, yes you are!” she belts joyously in the chorus. The arrangement is expansive—six minutes of bubbling funk that even finds room for a funky percussion break, unexpectedly injecting a hint of classic disco into the mix. That upbeat nod to the previous decade’s dance music feels just right, as if Cherrelle is honoring her musical roots while charging forward. By the song’s climax, she’s practically inviting the listener to sing along in celebration of love found. And then, as a parting touch, High Priority closes with a brief “New Love Reprise,” complete with a wailing saxophone solo courtesy of David Eiland. It’s a soulful, 47-second coda that harkens back to old-school R&B instrumentals and ends the album on a high note. As the sax fades, the narrative arc is complete—from yearning to fulfillment—and the listener is left with the satisfying feeling of having experienced a full story, not just a collection of songs.
Cherrelle’s collaboration with Alexander O’Neal would prove to be more than just a one-off studio pairing—it became a career-defining partnership for both. In the wake of High Priority, O’Neal’s own career took off. Cherrelle even lent background vocals to his self-titled 1985 debut album, further intertwining their artistic paths. They reunited in 1987 for “Never Knew Love Like This,” a duet on O’Neal’s Hearsay album that climbed to No. 2 on the R&B chart—matching the peak of “Saturday Love”—and reached the pop Top 30. If “Saturday Love” was all tender restraint, “Never Knew Love Like This” saw both singers truly let loose. Jam & Lewis provided a punchy uptempo backdrop with a durable keyboard riff and a wailing sax solo, and Cherrelle responded by launching her vocal into the stratosphere, hitting Deniece Williams-like highs, while O’Neal growled out his lines with testifying fervor. The track became another signature hit, proving the chemistry heard on “Saturday Love” was no fluke—these two had a special magic together, the kind that echoed the great duos of previous eras yet felt tailor-made for the contemporary R&B scene. Their duets, in fact, helped shape the late-’80s trend of male-female team-ups on soul ballads and slow jams. For Cherrelle personally, working with O’Neal amplified her profile: the success of their duets meant she was frequently name-checked alongside him, and the two often performed together (famously reuniting to sing “Saturday Love” at the 2011 BET Awards in a wave of nostalgia). Their partnership, nurtured by Jam & Lewis, became a defining element of both artists’ legacies.
It’s clear why the record still resonates—and why it deserves to be rediscovered by those who weren’t around for its debut. In many ways, this album captures a golden moment in R&B when technology and soul were finding a joyous equilibrium. The Minneapolis sound, with its drum machines and synths, was at its pinnacle, yet the humanity of the performances never got lost. High Priority exemplifies this balance: the production is unmistakably ‘80s (some might say deliciously so, with its glossy textures and reverb), but the feelings it conveys are timeless. Heartbreak, longing, desire, empowerment, devotion—these themes don’t expire, and Cherrelle delivers them with an honesty and flair that keeps the songs fresh. The album’s influence can be felt in how later artists approached duet songs and in the continued sampling of its biggest hit. “Saturday Love” alone has been sampled and interpolated by nearly a hundred other songs—from a 50 Cent hip-hop track to a Charli XCX pop experiment. Jam & Lewis’s work on High Priority helped set the template for countless R&B albums to follow, proving that concept and continuity could elevate a collection of tracks into a satisfying whole. And Cherrelle’s persona on the record—a young Black woman owning her voice, whether cooing in harmony with her duet partner or standing solo and demanding respect—continues to inspire.
High Priority is a product of its time and a work that transcends its era. It’s a reminder of when R&B duets could dominate quiet storms and dancefloors alike, and when a light, wispy voice could carry as much emotive weight as a power belter. For those who lived through it, the album instantly brings back memories of satin jackets, weekend dates, and late-night dedications on the radio. For new listeners, discovering High Priority is like unearthing a gem that gleams with retro charm yet speaks to universal experiences. In Cherrelle’s youthful whine and Alexander O’Neal’s hearty croon, in Jam & Lewis’s electronic grooves and soulful embellishments, there lies a musical chemistry that doesn’t fade. High Priority invites us to press play and let the days of the week roll by once more—from Sunday to Saturday—and we remember why some records become classics.