The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench. A long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side.
Hunter S. Thompson

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

R&B Resurrection 2.0: I've Never Been Happier to Be Wrong


A few weeks ago I expressed my feelings on R&B music. It's rich and illustrious history, its ebbs and flows and its unfortunate demise. And then at the end of my whole shpeel I predicted that R. Kelly's "Write Me Back" would be R&B's great redemption song. That if the genre were to have a great Jesus-like resurrection than Mr. Twelve-Play himself, would be its defibrillator. Well...while R.'s latest was indeed everything I predicted to be, a rich lush trip through the R&B history books; a full retrospective of R&B spanning the last 50 years of the genre with tracks that lent an ear to everything from doo-wop to Jackie Wilson, James Brown's funky-soul to steppin' groove similar to TP-2. But unfortunately, it looks like relieving oneself on a 16 year old (allegedly) really does kill your street cred with today's youth. However, and maybe ironically, what the man who spent the last couple of years Trapped In The Closet couldn't do; very well may have been by the young man, who recently came out of one.

Frank Ocean's debut album "channel ORANGE" was released to iTunes at midnight on Tuesday July 10 (a week early from its initial release date and still the date for the physical version of July 17) following his very first television performance on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. Beyond a hauntingly beautiful performance so rich in its simplicity; and the second single from the album ("Bad Religion"), Frank, with some help from the Roots, may have introduced to the true face of the next generation of R&B.

Unlike R. Kelly's "Write Me Back" which speaks toward Don Cornelius' Soul Train, Ocean's Def Jam debut "channels" Terrance & Rocsi's 106 & Park; yet does so in a way that generates its own lane completely separate from the Chris Browns, Ushers and Ne-Yos that one might try to compare him to at first glance. "channel ORANGE" reminds the listener that it's not just a two-letter acronym, but that R&B actually has a meaning; that it actually stands for something. That being rhythm & BLUES!

It's D'Angelo's "Voodoo" without the misogynistic undertones. Maxwell's "BLACKsummer's Night" on a well laced joint. Each track flows and fits together perfectly. And yet, each song carries a personality strong enough to stand on its own merits without needing its predecessor or successor to validate its purpose.

While iTunes lists the album as "POP", "ORANGE" is Shrek-like in its layers. A mash-up of jazz, pop, soul, hip-hop and R&B in its youth, running through a city of flashing phosphorescent lights at 3 AM while freely rolling on the purest Molly imaginable. "channel ORANGE" is the bastard baby brother of Prince, A Tribe Called Quest and Tony Toni Tone. Conceived on a alcohol fueled night Mama and Daddy decided to celebrate the youngest of his elder brothers finally flying from the nest for college. Over the course of 18 tracks, a 24 year old, recently out bi-sexual young man, explores and explains the depths of love, loss, lust and longing with more honesty and realism than I, his professional peers or any of R&B's elder statesmen have been able to in years.

Frank's slowed, yet not screwed, vocal style keep the songs driven by drum and bass break beats and simplified repetitive synth pads different from the "easy-Mac" rendition of "club bangers" released by some of his Pop&B contemporary counter parts. Between the grounded vocal melodies, effortlessly blending in with the bright bouncing synths of songs like "Thinkin' Bout You" and "Pyramid" an aurally visual Jackson Pollack effect is created. I found myself closing my eyes midway through these tracks only to see a mosh pit of colors clashing and collaborating on a unifying canvas to create a clear, even if only momentarily, bit of beauty of a seemingly chaotic mess. The electronic jazz piano driven "Sweet Life" and "Crack Rock" hint at influence of early Musiq Soulchild, but with a sense of futilistic frustration that only exist in youth. "Super Rich Kids", which has one of the few features on the album and the only feature with one of Ocean's OFWGKTA cohorts (the elusive Earl Sweatshirt) may very well be the anthem for a generation growing up admiring the likes of the Kardashians, reality television superstars and Gossip Girl. An anti-storybook tale of the pains that come along with given all the material things a youth could want with out the intangibles that come from a complete family/parental structure.

Sidenote: I haven't seen a crew use each other's projects to set up the next man this well since Wu-Tang. Odd Future begot Tyler, who begot Frank who (be)got me ready for this Earl Sweatshirt record whenever it drops

John Mayer's understated guitar riffs on "White", become far more breathtaking as a minimalistic transition between tracks, than any savant-like jazz guitar shredder lick he could've laid down, if he really wanted to. And even Andre 3000 shows up on one of the albums standouts "Pink Matter" laying down a verse that makes you secretly deep down HATE 3 stacks (no poetic prose here, his verse is just so damn good that you become pissed that he's still out here pushing razors instead of making music). Dre's verse is like a lyrical spirit guide. He forces you to voluntarily follow him to the edge of a cliff (you think you're in his lyrical shadow by choice, when realistically you're tugging on his cape, like a little kid begging to be taken with him...and he knows it) and just when you start to get into the depth of his word play, he seems to abruptly cut off his verse mid-bar. As if, now that he's gotten you to the ledge, he immaculately varnished wings and flew off said precipice leaving your feet planted firmly in the ground, watching him disappear into the horizon leaving you with no means to follow, regardless of how much you internally beg him to come back and help you get to where he's going. (ok I lied about the flowery prose; but seriously his verse is SICK!)

"Monks" sounds the most similar to the beautifully crafted Grand Theft Audio that was his mixtape "Nostalgia, ultra". Ocean's version of a dance party anthem comes with a vocal melody that feels like it was pulled off a lost demo for Ryan Leslie's "Transition" album. While at the same time the production matches that of N.E.R.D. "Fly or Die" era Pharrell; all the while carrying a lyrical weight all Frank's own; one filled with an arrogance and brashness based in a deep rooted sense of insecurity.

The 9+ minute opus, "Pyramid", somehow evenly plays out the duality of man's fantasy without seeming trite. In the first half he details the desire for a Cleopatra; invoking the oft-used analogy of a man's mate being his queen, while not actually spelling this out, and in fact hinting that he very well may want one that can control his "empire" for him. While on the back end of the very same track, he seamlessly twists and turns his romantic conquest and political equal into the epitome of his personal sexual goddess (read: hot ass stripper) in a track that I can guarantee will be played in the Champagne Room of EVERY strip club in America.


(courtesy of frankocean.net)

But, possibly the biggest and stand-out tracks on the album are "Forest Gump" and the aforementioned "Bad Religion". Songs whose "controversial" nature would've easily overshadowed the greatness of this piece of art, prior to Ocean's impassioned and heart-felt letter announcing his truth to the World, and perhaps more importantly the hip-hop (read: black) community now have the ability to become spring boards, for conversation, understanding and hopefully not just tolerance but true and honest acceptance of the LGBT community. Especially given Ocean's debut on Fallon on Tuesday night. We were able to watch this young man go through the full gambit of emotions as he paced slightly around the stage, as if he fully understood and felt the weight of the moment he was in. Refusing to hide behind a stationary mic stand (which would've been easy to do with a ballad like "Bad Religion"); we watch has he fidgeted with his arms and hands, treating his mic the way Digger Phelps treats a felt-tipped highlighter. We saw in his face a full gambit of emotion from nervous, to frightened, to reassured, to triumphant, to relieved as he crooned the words "I could never make him love me" to a National televised audience. Just as the song put his emotions toward not being on the requited side of unrequited love; Frank put himself on display to be judged not just as an artist, but as a man and role model; and in doing so exhibited a bravery seen by only the rarest of humans. He allows these two songs to delve deeper than the sex of its characters and into their truths. His ability to describe the feeling of being the scratched and scuffed side of Two-Face's double-headed coin that is "love" speaks beyond sexual orientation, race or age and instead to the genuine pain of being the only character in a fairy tale romance. His lyrical content, in "Bad Religion" especially, speaks beyond sex(uality) into the deeper notions of want. The want, to be loved. The want, to be desired. The want, to be seen as both an emotional God and physical whore. Simultaneously. Without fear or judgement for choosing to embrace either. He's allowing us to gain a first hand experience into a life and lifestyle we all know, yet refuse to acknowledge as real; and for this he should be commended.

I don't know what this means for his career. We could be seeing his "Songs In the Key of Life" or we could've just been given "The Miseducation of Frank Ocean"; only he, God, and maybe Tyler the Creator, know the answer. But I do know one thing. "channel ORANGE" is easily the album of 2012, but more importantly, it may possibly be the album of a generation.

Peace Up! Peace Out!

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Sad But True Trey Songz and I Have Something In Common (Other Than 6-Pac Abs)




I like to think I am an evolved man. Someone who is openly sensitive to the plight and struggle of others (especially other minorities, whether they be based on gender, race, sexual orientation, or enjoyment of "Call Me Maybe" and "Boyfriend" while being straight males over the age of 13). And it is with that, that I am both shocked and a bit saddened at how much I freakin' love Trey Songz's new single "2 Reasons".

Now you may say, "Ken what is there to a shamed about for liking a catchy, up beat, danceable club anthem like '2 Reasons'?" In theory nothing, but it's the actuality that really grinds my gears. I openly consider myself to be somewhat of a lyric snob. One who will analyze and re-analyze the prose of a song gaining just as much enjoyment from their poetry, as I do from knowing that a girl will be able to grind and wind her hind-parts against me with great veracity from its' rhythms. And it is with the snobbishness that I find myself sullen, at my enjoyment of a song whose chorus is no more than a repeat of "Bitches and the Drinks".

Surely I, a refined man of the 21st Century, can't find such great joy in two-stepping to such a misogynistic record? Surely, Trey who came to us initially just "Tryin to Make It" looks for venues that offer more than just these two ambiance builders?

But, then I thought to myself...

"Self, isn't possible that you have had an internal monologue along the lines of 'Sure this bottle of Bud Light cost you $17 dollars, but DAMN!!! Look at all the phat asses in here' or even 'Yes, a good majority of the females in this not so fine establishment look like a cross between Jamie Foxx's Wanda and Martin Lawrence's Shenaynay characters, but these 3 for 1 well drinks, special is off the chain!'" (and yes, my inner monologue still talks like its 2001). Am I too a victim of attending clubs, bars, lounges and other night spopts strictly for the Bitches AND/OR Drinks?

It would appear so.

But as I said, I am a sophisticated man who is both scholar AND gentleman, and will not allow my "Coon Tune" (more on this later) loving innards allow me to debase my feminine counterparts. So, from hence forth I shall treat the chorus of Trey Songz' "2 Reasons" like white kids treat the word "Nigger" in their favorite rap song. Depending on the number of ladies in my vicinity I will either, mumble it under my breath OR change the lyric all together; maybe "Wimminz and the Drinks" or "Females and the Drinks" or how about "Beaches and the Drinks" -- see now its a song about tropical vacations. Nevertheless no longer shall I subject my surroundings to such vulgarities.

Unless of course there's no wimminz around me when it comes on. Then I'm turning that shit up to ignant levels and singin' it at the top of my lungs; cause that record GOES!!!

Peace up! Peace out!

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

R&B Resurrection

With the release of Usher Raymond's newest (to little or no fan fare) album "Looking 4 Myself", I'm officially putting R&B's obituary one sentence closer to being complete. Let me start by saying that 1) this is NOT an album review (I hate those things, if for no other reason than music is maybe the most objective art forms there is - second only to maybe...art. 2) I actually completely enjoy the album, and think it's his best one as a whole since 2004's Confessions. This is more so about what this album symbolizes, than the actual album itself. And what does this album symbolize, Ken (I'm sure that's what you were just asking yourself)? The unofficial death of the R&B genre.

While Usher's latest presents a quality mix of club and bedroom bangahs, I was hoping that the Euro-dance pixie dust that seemed to be doused on Usher by David Guetta would've officially worn off by now. That maybe, the record's first single "Scream" was just the "last bump" before Usher jumped back into the rehab of "baby making music" for this album. But unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be the case. Even the tracks that carry the strength of a classic R&B vocal melody, are washed over in dub-step style "build and drop" production. Even half the ballads, exist in a world where a double timed back beat holds the track emotionally hostage. And doesn't let the song emote the way former hits like "Burn" and "Confessions" once did.

But it's not just Usher, over the last 5-10 years we've seen the would be kings of Rhythm and Blues give way to the newest production craze of European DJ/Producers filling in for the once oft-used hip-hop producer to create the musical back bone for the likes of our modern urban crooners. Along with Usher's obvious recent transition, Chris Brown went from "Yo" to "Yeah 3x", and Jason Derulo is electro-popping 80's already electro-synth pop as his samples. Even the ones we looked toward continuing to carry the torch once held by Smokey Robinson and Kenneth "Babyface" Edmonds because of their ability to write great R&B records for others have slowly given in to the "dub-side" (slowly cranes neck toward The Dream and Ne-Yo). It's to a point now, where the closest thing we have to an R&B star is Trey Songz, and if you've been payin attention to him lately, he thinks he's a damn rapper now.

Sidenote: REALLY?!? You're gonna start callin' yourself Trigger Trey? Really? Trigger? Man...go sit yo' "LOL :)" ass down somewhere.

So what do we do now? R&B seems to be drafting its last will & testament, and calling for a priest to read him his last rights. Well I was always taught that you don't bring up a problem with already having solutions handy; so lets look at some positives. For what its worth there are a few cuts off the new Usher record that fit right in line with what you'd expect from the old pre-cougar stylist marrying, post-cougar R&B group member dating Usher; "Twisted" a funky 60's inspired dance number featuring Pharrell that sounds like something that didn't make the final track listing for the last Raphael Saadiq album; as well as "Dive" which sounds like it's the missing back end to Raymond vs Raymond's "There Goes My Baby". So it's possible, depending on how this album is received, that Usher is still willing and able to provide his "Yeah" loving masses some of that R&B fiyah.

Then of course there are the artists out there (male and female) that still fight the good fight. Artists like Jill Scott, Musiq Soulchild, Robin Thicke, Raheem DeVaugn, Anthony Hamilton, Alicia Keys and John Legend that still put in the work to keep R&B relevant beyond a the select group of afro and dread heads that occupy Philly, Harlem and Chicago. But realistically (read: skeptically) those artists more often than not get grouped in as "soul artists" and no matter what rapper(s) they align themselves with they'll never reach the popularity of the artists I mentioned at the beginning.

Hell, I'm thinking maybe we are doomed. I mean not even Brian McKnight's "adult mixtape" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbVQZqCjoOs)could bring folks back around.(BTW let's be honest, that song still sounds dope. He changes the word "pussy" to "love" its played every night on The Quiet Storm NIGHTLY). But then again, maybe there is one last hope. One final act of desperation us classic R&B fans can cling to. Maybe we still have the ability to reach back and pull off one last Flutie-esque musical hail mary. And what can this final saving grace be? Who can be R&B's Gregory House, who figures out that what had always been assumed to be a fatal case of sarcoidosis is in fact just a random strain of gonorrhea that can be cleared up with a simple case of rare Brazilian penicillin? It'd be the same man that started this slow death that took us from the singing gangsters of the late 90's to the Diplo derived world we live in today. The one. The only. Robert Kelly!!!

Now that he's no longer trapped in that damn closet, and stopped wearing those damn Zorro masks maybe, just maybe, he'll come back to us. We need it. I NEED IT!!! I can no longer just listen to Boyz II Men "On Bended Knee" and their covers of "Misty Blue" and "I Can't Make You Love Me" records for sustenance (by the way their cover album Love is so good its just fucked up. The harmonies they employ on their cover Goo Goo Dolls' "Iris" is so evil toward Johnny Resnik; its essentially the vocal equivalent of porn star Lexington Steele jerking off in front of you and your girl, not because he's horny and can't get any, but simply because he wants to show you, and your girl, that his dick really is that big -- yea THAT disrespectfully good).

So there in lies R&B final hope for resurrection. An artist with R.'s clout with both top 40 pop and urban radio that can give us the next "Ignition" or "Bump and Grind" or "Contagious". Somebody, go get Ronald Isley on the phone, tell'em we'll let him call himself Mr. Bigg again if we'll get another in the Twelve Play series. Hell I'll even go buy him a bunch of Zorro masks if that's what he needs to give us another Chocolate Factory; otherwise, all future baby making is doomed. Help us R. Kelly, you're our only hope! (Princess Leia voice)

Good to be back America!

Peace up! Peace out!