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When guys dismiss black pop as manipulative, they're threatened by
how facilely new the new love men articulate tenderness. After all,
most guys aren't above being manipulative--they're just not as good
at it as Boyz II Men. Which is why they'll feel very threatened
indeed by R. Kelly's R. (Jive). From 1993's 12 Play
on, Kelly has
been a phenomenal hitmaker, but in the wake of I Believe I Can Fly,
the Space Jam megasmash that also closes this double-CD, he's
jacked his skills up to Prince level. For over two hours, the
boasts, promises, love cries, and assertions of vulnerability never
let up, each one equipped not just with its own beat, but with its
own tune. Most are slow jams, but Kelly negotiates dance tempos
adeptly, sometimes in the company of rappers like Keith Murray or
Foxy Brown. The only problem is that, just like guys say, it's all
so transparently manipulative--the one song that rings with
unmistakable conviction is called Only the Loot Can Make Me Happy.
If this album puts songs on the radio into the next millennium, it
will be remembered as a classic. If it doesn't, it will be
remembered as a genre exercise.
It was 1961 when the late blues singer and harp player Junior Wells
first recorded with guitarist-vocalist Buddy Guy. Their final show
together was in 1993, at Guy's Chicago club. The result: the loose-limbed,
off-the-cuff, all-acoustic Last Time Around--Live at Legends
(Silvertone), as joyously musical a record as either has
made in 25 years. Highlight: Ray Charles's What'd I Say, so nice
they do it twice.
Anyone who cherishes the Dazed and Confused soundtrack as the
stupid-rock touchstone it is should go match it with Hard Rock
Cafe: Party Rock (Hard Rock/Rhino). Finally, a reason to own Robert
Palmer's Addicted to Love!
Playboy, Dec. 1998
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Nov. 1998 |
Jan. 1999 |
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