It's impossible not to root for Jill Scott. The 'Illa- delphian R&B vet is a self-described "grande dame queen beast" in a genre of models, putting her often-messy personal struggles right up front. The Light of the Sun, Scott's first disc since splitting up with her (now-ex) drummer, recalls that relationship with jazzy, good-natured candor on "Quick." Elsewhere, Scott assays life back on the market in her trademark warm and inviting, if rarely thrilling, neo-soul style – from the old-school hip-hop jam "Shame," which excoriates a man who didn't want her, to the jazz poem "Womanifesto," an ode to her "strong legs that stroll off the 33 bus" and desire for "the rhythm of my space." Scott proves it's a nice place to spend time.