It starts with a single, lonely horn. Then the drums kick in—crisp, patient, and impossibly cool. By the time Sade Adu’s voice floats over the track like smoke in a dark room, you aren't just listening to a song anymore. You’re in a movie. Honestly, Is It a Crime is less of a musical composition and more of an emotional interrogation. It’s the centerpiece of the 1985 album Promise, and if we’re being real, it might be one of the most misunderstood "love" songs in the history of sophisticated pop.
Most people hear the smooth jazz veneer and think it’s just background music for a high-end dinner party. That’s a mistake. Underneath that polished production by Robin Millar lies a raw, obsessive narrative about a love that has gone completely off the rails.
The anatomy of an obsession
Sade doesn't just sing about missing someone here. She’s singing about a devotion so intense it feels illegal. When she belts out that she’s "wider than a mile," she’s referencing Moon River, but twisting the sentiment into something far more vast and perhaps a bit more desperate. It’s huge. The scale of the emotion is meant to feel overwhelming because, to the narrator, the love is so big it’s a burden.
The song clocks in at over six minutes on the album version. That’s a lifetime in radio years. Most hits from the mid-80s were rushing to get to the hook within thirty seconds, but Sade and her band—Paul Denman, Andrew Hale, and Stuart Matthewman—understood the power of the slow burn. They let the tension coil. They let it sit.
You’ve probably noticed how the dynamics shift. It starts almost like a whisper. By the end, the brass section is screaming. It’s a sonic representation of a breakdown. Stuart Matthewman’s saxophone work on this track isn't just "flavor." It’s a second voice. It’s the sound of the things Sade’s character is too proud—or too exhausted—to say out loud.
Why the lyrics feel so heavy
Let's look at the actual words. "I'm still in love with you / Is it a crime?"
It’s a rhetorical question, obviously. But the way she frames it suggests she’s been told her feelings are "too much." We’ve all been there. You’re hung up on someone who has clearly moved on, and the world tells you to get over it. You feel like a criminal for still caring. Sade taps into that specific brand of social shame. She’s basically saying, "If loving this person this much is a violation of the rules, then lock me up."
There’s a specific line that always sticks: "My love is wider than the Victoria Falls." It’s such a specific, geographical marker. It grounds the song’s ethereal vibe in something real and massive. It’s not just a "big" love; it’s a literal force of nature that can’t be contained or ignored.
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The 1985 context and the "Sophisti-pop" label
Back in '85, the charts were dominated by the neon-drenched synth-pop of Duran Duran or the rock-tinged soul of Tina Turner. Sade was an anomaly. They were often lumped into the "Sophisti-pop" movement alongside bands like The Blue Nile or Simply Red. But Is It a Crime proved they had more grit than their contemporaries.
Critics at the time, like those at Rolling Stone, sometimes struggled to categorize them. Was it jazz? Was it R&B? Was it adult contemporary? The truth is, it was all of those things, but filtered through a very specific British-Nigerian lens that prioritized atmosphere over genre labels.
Promise went multi-platinum. It wasn't a fluke. People were hungry for something that felt "adult" without being boring. They wanted passion that didn't involve big hair and spandex.
The production secrets of the band Sade
Robin Millar, the producer, has spoken before about the recording process for these early sessions. They weren't using a million layers of digital effects. A lot of what you hear is the sound of a tight-knit band playing in a room, reacting to each other.
- The reverb on the snare drum gives it that "midnight" feel.
- The bassline is surprisingly funky, keeping the song from becoming too "floaty."
- Sade’s vocals were often recorded with minimal takes to preserve the "breath" and the imperfections.
Actually, if you listen closely to the 12-inch version, the instrumental breaks are even longer. It’s almost hypnotic. It’s the kind of music that demands you stop what you’re doing and just exist in it for a while.
Is It a Crime in the world of sampling
If you’re a hip-hop head, you know this song even if you’ve never put on a Sade record. The DNA of Is It a Crime is all over the last thirty years of rap and R&B.
MF DOOM sampled it. Snoop Dogg sampled it. Drake has practically built a career on the mood this song established. Why? Because it captures a specific type of "luxury sadness." It’s the sound of having everything and still feeling like you have nothing because one specific person isn't there. It’s aspirational but heartbroken.
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When a producer chops up that horn line or that opening piano chord, they’re instantly injecting "cool" into their track. It’s a cheat code for emotional depth.
The live performance factor
You haven't truly experienced this song until you’ve seen the live versions, specifically from the Bring Me Home tour or the 1994 Sade Live concert.
On stage, Sade Adu is a statue. She doesn't need to do backflips or have twenty backup dancers. She stands there, usually under a single spotlight, and lets the song do the work. The band stretches the ending out. The horns get louder. The lights turn red. It’s theatrical in a way that feels earned. It’s a masterclass in restraint.
Misconceptions about the "Quiet Storm"
There is a common misconception that Is It a Crime is "soft" music.
Wrong.
"Soft" implies a lack of impact. This song is heavy. It’s just heavy in a way that doesn't require distortion pedals. It’s emotionally taxing. The subject matter—unrequited, obsessive love—is actually quite dark. It’s the kind of song that plays in the background of a noir film right before something goes wrong.
Calling it "Quiet Storm" or "Easy Listening" does a disservice to the technical skill involved. The rhythmic structure is complex. The way the time signature feels like it’s pulling back and then pushing forward is incredibly difficult to pull off without sounding messy.
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Why it still trends in 2026
We live in a world of 15-second TikTok sounds. Everything is fast. Everything is "loud." Is It a Crime stands out because it’s the opposite of that. It’s a slow burn in a fast-burn world.
Gen Z has rediscovered Sade because the aesthetic—the "Old Money" vibe mixed with genuine soul—is exactly what people are craving. It feels authentic. It feels like it was made by humans, not by an algorithm trying to maximize "shareability."
How to actually listen to Is It a Crime
If you want the full experience, don't listen to this on your phone speakers while doing the dishes. That’s a waste.
- Wait for night. This is strictly after-hours music.
- Use real headphones. You need to hear the separation between the bass and the percussion.
- Listen to the full album version. Don't settle for the radio edit that cuts out the best parts of the horn solo.
Actionable ways to explore this sound further
If this track hits you the way it hits most people, you shouldn't stop there. There’s a whole world of "Sophisticated Soul" that follows this blueprint.
- Check out the rest of the album 'Promise'. It’s a cohesive mood piece.
- Listen to 'The Sweetest Taboo'. It’s the more "famous" sibling of this song, but it shares the same DNA.
- Look up the live version from 'San Diego 1994'. The energy is significantly higher than the studio recording.
- Research the 'Diamond Life' era. It shows how the band evolved their sound from pure jazz-pop into something more cinematic.
The song is a reminder that some things don't age because they weren't trying to be "trendy" in the first place. It was timeless the day it was recorded. If loving a song this much is a crime, well, we’re all guilty.
Next Steps for the Music Enthusiast
To truly appreciate the technicality of the track, your next move should be to compare the original 1985 vinyl master with the 2020 This Far remastered box set version. The remaster cleans up the "mud" in the lower frequencies, allowing Paul Denman’s bass work to stand out more clearly against the brass. Additionally, investigating the discography of Sweetback—the band members of Sade without Sade herself—will give you a deeper look into the instrumental genius that created the backbone of this iconic song.