Why "Hotter Than July" is an Underrated Stevie Wonder Gem

I explore Stevie Wonder’s first, deceptively complex, studio album of the 1980s.

This album review throws it back to Stevie Wonder’s first studio album of the 1980s, a deceptively complex, layered foray into disco, new wave, and soul.

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Genre: Pop, R&B, New Wave

Label: Tamla

Release Date: September 29, 1980

Vibe: 🥵🌡️

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👉 Click the GIF to stream the album on your favorite platform

To call Hotter Than July a “back to basics” or “return to form” record would be reductive to the point of being inaccurate. Saying as much would imply that a) Stevie Wonder still had something to prove artistically, which, after dropping a cultural touchstone as monumental as Songs in the Key of Life, would be categorically false, and b) that he ever lost his form in the first place. When you release six undisputed classic records in as many years, all of which tackle transcendent race and political issues, you earn the right to expand your horizons, commercial ramifications be damned.

That’s what he did with Stevie Wonder’s Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants, a soundtrack to the film of the same name that, while not everyone’s cup of tea, is certainly worth checking, especially in retrospect. Like the filmmaking techniques used, Wonder’s music pushed the boundaries of what was possible with the medium, pioneering digital recording and sampling techniques that would become industry standards soon after. And yet, the backlash was more pronounced than maybe it had even been in Wonder’s career. Some called Plants “pointless” and “foolish,” while more diplomatic, but no less confused, parties settled on the backhanded term “overambitious.” Wonder later tried to pass the buck to Motown, who he felt hadn’t promoted the album as well as they could’ve.

At the dawn of the 1980s, his critics said that Wonder was floundering (depending on who you ask, whispers at his parent label’s headquarters echoed the same sentiments), but I’d refute that statement. Before Hotter Than July dropped in September of 1980, less than a year after Plants, he managed to co-write hits for Jermaine Jackson (the still-incredible “Let’s Get Serious”), as well as Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway (”You Are My Heaven”), and was a coveted featured artist who appeared on dozens of other tracks, including jams from B.B. King and Quincy Jones. In addition to that work, he began tinkering on sounds for his next LP in the comfort of the then-new Wonderland Studios, a sanctuary that came complete with quadrophonic monitoring and state-of-the-art technology for its time. Within its walls, he would reinvent himself yet again.

If you compare it to Wonder’s 1970s output, Hotter Than July doesn’t try and do too much. Like his most enduring funk tracks, from “Superstition” to “I Wish,” the grooves on this album are as straightforward as they are relentless, seldom giving you a minute to pause and catch your breath before the bass or drums kick back in, barrelling toward another bridge or chorus. A good example is the opening track, the criminally underrated “Do I Hear You Say You Love Me,” which begins with voices in the distance that build to a shriek the rhyhm section explodes out of the gate. For such an earworm of a groove, it’s impressive how many layers are working in effortless harmony here. Nathan Watts and Dennis Davis are the anchors on bass and drums, respectively, but Benjamin Bridges’ guitar and Hank Redd’s saxophone are also memorable supporting players. The band, featuring many of Wonder’s studio regulars, is in perfect sync from the first second to the last.

At that song’s center is the R&B legend’s voice, still his most awe-inspiring instrument for its earnestness, even as it’s shifting tone in the space of a bar or two. In the first verse, he beseeches the object of his affection for clear signs (”Don't give me the wrong impression/By showing me warm expression”) before trying to shrug it off with sly confidence literally three lines later (”I've been standing on the outside/Trying to get on the inside”). No one could (and still can’t, in my view) strike that sentimental balance quite like Stevie Wonder. On “All I Do,” a Motown vault single he wrote as a teenager, his voice overflows with passion and sensuality without ever crossing over into outright schmaltz. The disco-adjacent beat doesn’t hurt matters, but the main attraction is those vocal swells. A decade later, those lyrics would’ve been low-hanging fruit for someone like Michael Bolton, though I shudder to think of what that version would’ve sounded like. I doubt Bolton would’ve had the industry clout to get the O’Jays, Betty Wright, and Michael Jackson singing backup for him like Wonder had, either.

Track after track, the craftsmanship on display here is remarkable, even when you venture into the album’s lesser-known corners. “Rocket Love” is a dreamy, interstellar declaration of love, draped in shimmering strings and that trademark, understated falsetto. “I Ain’t Gonna Stand For It” is a left turn into steel-pedal country, with Wonder doing an impression of a nasally, weathered cowboy cronner and featuring the Gap Band’s Charline and Ronnie Wilson. “As If You Read My Mind” pairs synth wizardry with ultra-smooth harmonies, capturing the bygone dancefloor energy of early 80s R&B. Perhaps best of all is “Lately,” an absolutely devastating heartbreak anthem that’s notable for its stillness. Just Wonder and his piano, going through memories like fading photographs. Jodeci’s 1990s cover version, which is terrific in its own right, puts that key difference into stark focus.

Even amid all that stupendous material, the most enduring moments from Hotter Than July are the two outspoken moments of solidarity. The first is “Master Blaster (Jammin’),” a Bob Marley-inspired track that’s a celebration of resilient spirits everywhere (”Peace has come to Zimbabwe). The syncopated drums, elastic basslines, jubilant horns—it’s all so joyous, setting the stage for a glut of reggae-pop crossovers from acts like the Police, UB40, and Musical Youth. Then there’s “Happy Birthday,” the song that kickstarted Wonder’s campaign for Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday to be recognized as a U.S. holiday (it would finally be declared a federal holiday three years later in 1983). He performed the track at rallies and marches, with its singalong bounciness softening the edges on what was ultimately a successful ultimatum. Few pop songs can legitimately claim legislative impact, but this one turned radio airplay into continued civil rights activism.

Interestingly, Hotter Than July was the first album from Wonder’s catalog to be eligible for Platinum certification (The RIAA did not audit Motown releases before 1977 for the category). It would go on to hit No. 3 on the Billboard 200 and No. 1 in the UK, spawning four Top 10 singles in the latter region. For all the talk of his “decline,” this LP’s success is hardly a portrait of an artist in decline. In transition, maybe, racing toward a pop music future that went even harder with the synths and arena-sized choruses. The sprawl of his better-known work may have dissipated, but in its place, you still had a singer/songwriter/producer who could build buoyant, breezy R&B with the best of them. If nothing else, this record proved he wasn’t shy about hitting the commercial or cultural reset buttons.

In many ways, you could also say that this particular Stevie Wonder record arrived when the world desperately needed it. America was navigating a tense political moment as Ronald Reagan’s election loomed. International struggles for liberation were making global headlines, and everywhere you looked, civil rights progress felt tenuous. The summer of 1980 was also intensely hot, with an intense heat wave that caused an estimated $20 billion in damage to the country’s agricultural sector, engulfing the Midwest and the Great Plains. The cover art seems to take that historical event into consideration. There’s Stevie, sweating bullets, with a glint coming off his sunglasses that suggests he’s actually looking into the sun. His expression is frozen in this defiant smile, as if he’s not backing down from the sweltering conditions. It makes me think back to the summers when I was a teen and young adult, when the heat would have my friends and me full of restlessness and raucousness in equal measure, with a dash of budding political consciousness thrown in for good measure.

Maybe you can’t connect those dots explicitly, but I dunno, it just feels right. That energy, which is at the core of this record, resonates in a big way, and, in the absence of better data, I’ll take it as gospel.

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What’s your favorite Stevie Wonder track from the 1980s? Sound off in the comments.