I feel like Ben Stiller in “Meet the Parents” when he messed up everything and Robert De Niro asked him to leave… That was Taylor’s moment and I had no right in any way to take it from her. I am truly sorry.

Labels: award shows, review

But, when it comes to fame, how audiences first come to greet you is how they’ll always remember you. For LeToya Luckett this is a gift and a curse.

She’ll always be able to gain some bit of press for the novelty of being one of the original members of Destiny’s Child. Unfortunately, she’ll always have to deal with titles like “Destiny’s Other Child” and jeers from those who placed their loyalties with the members who stuck it out.

And even though that group is officially done (until they need a reunion tour) LeToya still can’t escape her ex-band mate Beyonce.

Whether it’s fair or not Beyonce has become a person viewed as the standard bearer for contemporary R&B. That means LeToya – like every other R&B female singer out there – will always be compared to Queen Bey.

That’s unfortunate, because not everyone is meant to be like Beyonce and that should be OK to people. Beyonce is not the end all be all to R&B.

Judging LeToya solely in comparison to Beyonce takes away from the obvious gains she’s made with her sophomore album, Lady Love.

When LeToya first started making the rounds for her debut album, I was taken aback by how much she repeated that she didn’t think she could do a solo album. She was adamant that she saw herself more so as a group artist. There’s nothing wrong with that, but when trying to sell yourself as a solo act you needn’t remind people that your move towards a solo career pointed more towards your own ambivalence than confidence.

Because LeToya seemed a bit uncomfortable as a solo artist, while she certainly managed to score a hit song and album in her own right, it was hard to picture how she could flourish in future projects.

I’m glad that she’s found the confidence and direction she needed.

Though I don’t necessarily buy the press release from her management comparing her to Millie Jackson, LeToya certainly comes across a lot stronger, forceful, and blunt on songs like “Regret.” More in touch with her sensual side on tracks like “I Need A U” and “Tears.” And vocally a lot stronger on the obvious best choice for a first single “Regret,” and urban radio friendly “Over.”

Then are songs like “Take Away Love” which shows LeToya is open to exploration with her song. It also proves she should tap Ryan Leslie for future album collaborations. The same can be said of other collaborators like Tank (“Over,” “Good To Me,” “Regret”) and Marsha Ambrosius (“Matter”).

I could live without her foray into more pop-leaning crossover airplay yearning choices like the Chris Brown penned “Drained,” but there’s no one song on here that’s bad.

Arguably, minus the few spots on the album that rely too heavily on materialism and cliché’s to make the case for love, this is one of the most mature solo offerings from any of the 87 members of Destiny’s Child yet.

Based on some of the other reviews I’ve read, I’m disappointed to find people judging it on its potential to “crossover.”

I’m really annoyed by the notion that one has to “crossover” in order to be successful.

Instead of focusing on trying to attract the attention of fickle pop music fans, LeToya’s label should’ve have thrown out “Regret” as the first single. It would’ve been the best way to reintroduce her onto the scene and would’ve help cement her place as a nice alternative to all of the other R&B acts out there who dilute their sound in order to “crossover.”

My worries about LeToya’s music career aren’t that she’s not capable of creating music than you can remember an hour after you’ve heard it. This album proves she’s able to grow as a singer, songwriter and vocalist.

My fear is that she’ll be limited by people’s perception that she must stay within Beyonce’s lane – then be mishandled by a label who seem dead set on doing all of the things that will prevent her from creating her own.

Labels: review

Up until twenty minutes ago I completely forgot that technically I’ve seen Lil’ Wayne perform twice via the Ruff Ryders/Cash Money and Cash Money Millionaire tours. That recollection totally botched what was supposed to be my opening sentence. I was going to talk about how I was did something I never thought I would do (paying to see him perform) and play it all up but dammit I’ve already seen the little Gremlin years ago.

Eh, it wasn’t like he was the headliner on either bill back then so I’m sure ya’ll still get what I’m trying to say. I’ve never consider myself to be that big a Wayne fan. I ignored him almost as much as the rest of the world ignored Turk. I’ve always been aware of his growing buzz (and ultimate takeover) though I still never really cared that much about him.

Over the last two years he’s kind of made it hard to ignore him. His latching on to every person’s song can only be rivaled by T-Pain and he drops mixtapes every other second. Between that and finally watching him perform (at least on his own) I now understand his appeal.

He may have been higher than this summer’s gas prices the whole time but Wayne can put on a show. He’s a charismatic crack head who really knows how to excite a crowd. And might I add that he’s quite a uniter. I’ve never seen so many hoodrats, homos, and white folk in such close proximity. As soon as I stepped into the Toyota Center I went to the bathroom and saw them gambling near the stalls. Everyone black, white, gay, straight were getting hustled out of their money. That is progress my people.

Anyway, I’ve heard from a few old Wayne fans (you know when the block was hot) that this isn’t the Wayne they used to love and jig to. They complain he’s too left field for them now. They don’t want to see him on a guitar (which he donned for “Prostitute Flange”) nor do they want to hear him sing. In some respects, I can understand that but I’m glad he’s decided to try new things. If he didn’t he’d be like the rest of the Cash Money roster. Where are they now again?

I won’t say that I’m a stan or anything, but I realized I knew more of his songs than I thought I did and would pay to see him again. I was actually pissed he didn’t perform my favorite song, “Me and My Drank.” It might be ignorant as hell and a glorified love song for addiction but I love it. In fact, about two weeks ago I performed in the parking lot outside of a club.

As for the other line up, I have to say I was pleasantly surprised with them, too. Who knew T-Pain could actually sing on key without the aid of a vocoder? He reminds me of someone that used to sit at the band table and make a bunch of corny jokes, but he’s entertaining. The Britney midget, the ugly clowns, the muscle butt women dancing on those huge wooden legs – it was like Ringling Brothers at a hole in the hall and for T-Pain, it worked.

Now on to Keyshia Myesha. I love her. So much now. She didn’t sound like her throat got into a fight during sound check and her dancing was not off. In fact, she was even doing some of my moves. Somebody’s been in dance class in an effort to keep up with their mama. Holla.

As for the new image, I think it initially threw people off in the audience. When you think old school glamour you don’t think chick from Oakland that used to rock Big Red’s hair color. I think everyone got over it as soon as she went through her catalog.

If you’re wondering how Gym Class Heroes and Keri Hilson were, yeah I guess we were walking around talking about people while they were on so we missed them. Oh well.

If you have a chance to go to the tour I would recommend it. For those of you worried fear not: I did not have to run from any bullets before, after, or during the show. Besides, even if you have to do that it’s good exercise.

Labels: review

Labels: review

Labels: review

Labels: review

When she made her debut in the early 90s, the multi-octave diva’s handlers made sure to pair her with every big ballad loving producer and songwriter that could develop all the songs we now only hear in commercials selling insurance, cars, or heart-attack inducing meals.

Towards the end of the 90s, when hip hop strong-armed both the pop and R&B charts, Mariah Carey began to transition herself from the adult contemporary chart’s favorite balladeer to Black radio’s most celebrated catchy hook crafter.

Her ability to appear able to go wherever the pop wind blows effortlessly is why she’s managed to accumulate well over a hundred million albums sold and rack up enough hits to threaten decade-spanning chart bragging rights by the likes of Elvis Presley and the Beatles.

And then came her notable albeit brief fall from grace in the early part of this decade that now seemingly had more to do with Mariah Carey the person rather than Mariah Carey the singer. A few years later and she resurfaced with the celebrated ‘comeback’ album, The Emancipation of Mimi – an album not as stellar but no less equal in shared themes with Butterfly, one of her most praised projects in which the singer combined her love for belting and beats.

With that album selling millions upon millions of albums and giving her another #1 to her ever-growing tally, it should be no surprise Mariah deviated little from the winning format on her follow-up to Emancipation, E=MC2.

Though the album’s title suggests this album is a superior sequel to The Emancipation of Mimi, if there was any title to grab from Emancipation, it should have been the closing track “Fly Like A Bird” -- albeit with a skewed meaning. On E=MC2, Mariah continues to regress further and further both lyrically and vocally.

When she’s not cooing about calling up Shawntae and Mae-Mae to sip Pinot Grigio (possibly the Boone’s Farm brand, since Mimi is hood now) at the club with T-Pain, she’s complaining about a man with baby mama drama (six fold) to Damian Marley. Did I mention on the latter song she attempts to sing with a patois accent?

Hilarious absurdities aside, on the songs where she’s not taking you to the club, she’s sending you back to the adolescence. Not only does nearly every ballad on the album sounds like a rehash of “We Belong Together,” they all remind listeners that Mariah Carey often writes about love from the perspective of a junior high school girl. One would hope that at 38, Mariah Carey it would dawn on Mariah that she’s old enough to have a child in high school and thus write accordingly. But, when one of your life’s creeds is to live like you’re ‘eternally 12,’ said hopes are nothing more than wishful thinking.

Is the album that bad? No, but when you’re used to material that’s still listenable several years later, you’re going to judge everything that falls short of that somewhat more harshly.

Most critics are likely to rip this album to shreds as conventional wisdom dictates that with such a gift of song, Mariah Carey ought to be belting big ballads versus wasting it by whispering gimmicky hooks over hip hop beats. But these are the same people who once wrote her off - calling her sound dated, and her time, effectively up.

It’s a shame that with such lackluster material Mariah’s beloved vocal chops can no longer distract you from some of the lullaby-like songs found on the album. Fortunately for her, a good voice is no longer a prerequisite to success.

Should we fault Mariah? To a degree, but in an ageist culture where the older you get, the less likely you are to remain relevant on radio, Mariah’s merely doing what she’s always done: give the people what they want at the time to stay afloat. And if mediocre hip hop influenced radio-friendly songs is her key to making sure Shawntae and Mae-Mae push her over the finish line as the artist with the most number one records of all time, that’s what Mimi’s going to give them.

Labels: review

“What’s on ya mind?” is a question rapper Rocko poses on “Dis Morning” – the kick off track from his debut album, Self-Made. He quickly ends any speculation by answering, “The only thing on my mind is money, money, money” – a sentiment conveyed on just about every single track that follows.

With money on his mind, Rocko spends much of the hour talking about the almighty dollar. How it drives him to hustle; how it helps him stay fly; how it’s gotten him out of a dire situation; how he’ll never go back to a pre-money having existence.

Perhaps that’s why he takes a very safe approach in subject matter with his first release. Self-Made is the quintessential mainstream hip-hop album of this decade: A beat driven ode to money and materialism complete with several thug references to preserve street credibility.

It’s a blueprint mainly used for emcees with talents that can only be deemed marginal at best. Such is the case with Rocko, who with lines like “You make it sprinkle/I make it tsunami,” is fortunate to rap only for fortune given that any hope of gaining respect for his lyrical skills went under with that very surge of water.

Though Rocko may not be putting much activity into his pen and pad, he’s certainly making sure his time spent at the mall isn’t wasted. If you didn’t catch Rocko’s affinity for Louis Vuitton on the album’s first single, “Umma Do Me,” he reminds you throughout several tracks on Self-Made. That free publicity doesn’t end with that noted designer, however. Rocko is big on Gucci, too.

Besides breaking new ground with references to his passion for fashion, Rocko shares musings on another topic new to hip-hop -- the treacherous gold-digger. Rocko has some choice words for female pursers trying to mask their greed under the guise of an “I love you.” Though “That’s My Money” is intended to serve as a warning to all those hoping to pull the okie doke over Rocko, one has to wonder why he’s so surprised that some women are only interested in his money when it’s the only subject he seems to speak with passionately.

Nevermind. That would require much more thought than the artist intended to provoke. I suppose we can surmise his stance the way singer and the mother of his children, Monica, does when she sings, “A thug need love, too.” (“Thugs Need Love Too”) That’s love produced without a receipt, I suppose.

Back to what really matters -- Rocko’s money. The rapper takes his Jeezy-like flow to let us know that his “Old Skools costs more than your new school,” (“Old Skool”), he enjoys spending money like there’s no tomorrow (“Tomorrow”), but his swagger is priceless (“Priceless”).

At a time when rap sales are on a noted decline, it’s interesting to find so many rappers still so superfluous with their spending habits. Now that we’ve reached the era of the ringtone rapper, it’s a good thing Rocko’s swagger is priceless because all that he raps about isn’t. Rocko the hustler will be tested now that he’ll have to pay for his Louis, Gucci, and those bottles he likes to pop on the sales of .99 cent singles versus $10-$15 full fledge albums. As for the now-transparent genre in general, it’s likely we’ll have to listen to several more Rocko’s before it dawns on anyone that while their lyrical content has yet to change, the game has.

Labels: review

In an election year themed around change, Badu has chosen the perfect time to release her long-awaited fourth studio effort. Taking the sounds of Parliament and meshing it with the political consciousness found in the early days of hip hop, Badu offers fans yet another substantive album that’s completely left-field from the releases of her R&B peers.

Working with an varied mix of collaborators like the 67-year-old jazz vibraphonist Roy Ayers, DJ/rapper/producer Madlib (Talib Kweli), and 9^th Wonder, Badu combines introspective lyrics with blazing beats – giving listeners both an earful and a mouthful.

Not bound by the very standards for contemporary soul divas she set a decade ago with her debut, Baduizm, Badu forgoes simple melodies and concise song structures in favor of unleashing a myriad of random sounds and vocal arrangements on New Amerykah. Though many of the songs sound like they were lifted right out of the 70s (most notably the intro, “Amerykhan Promise”), New Amerykah sounds fresh – pointing to Badu’s longstanding gift of being able to successfully fuse old and modern sounds .

Throughout the album, you find Badu sharing musings on the state of hip hop (“The Healer”), what it means to raise a young son in a violent world (“Solider”), and the apathy plaguing many members of the Black community (“That Hump”). The soul diva gives her state of the union and shares her vision of a better world in the grooviest way possible. If this is what Erykah’s America sounds like, here, here for the revolution.

Labels: review

Fifteen years ago, Janet revealed her sensual side on the groundbreaking, janet. For the first time in her career, the formally covered up star decided to let go of her inhibitions in the public eye. Critics and fans alike were enticed by the pop star’s seductive coos and come on’s. But judging from the sales of her last two albums, years of sharing sexual fantasy after sexual fantasy have led listeners to embrace the virtues of abstinence.

They say if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. But if you’ve noticed a pattern, isn’t that incentive to try something new? Apparently not to Janet, who will not be denied the right to dish on her desires on her latest release, Discipline. While I won’t co-sign the ageist and sexist arguments that a woman of a certain urge should no longer discuss sex so fervently, I will say that it wouldn’t hurt Janet to reconsider the subtle approach. It must be tricky to come up with so many different ways to discuss one’s sexual appetite, which might be why Janet is obviously seeking to go the extra mile to convey what we already learned in 1993. In a press release about the release of Discipline, Janet said she was charting new creative waters. If only that were true.

To her credit, she did embrace change to some degree: She recorded Discipline without the assistance of longtime collaborators Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis in favor of music’s hitmakers of the moment. Jermaine Dupri, Ne-Yo, Stargate, Tricky Stewart, The-Dream and Rodney Jerkins were all called into the studio with the hopes of adding a much needed boost to Janet’s fledging music career. If only new subject matter could compliment the new production value. On Discipline, Janet sounds part nympho, part aging diva trying to keep up with her would be replacements.

It works on some songs, but fails miserably on most. On the energetic first single, “Feedback,” Rodney Jerkins ponies up a club-ready track perfect for both Janet’s celebrated choreography and flirty vocal styling’s. For the most part, Janet’s opts to forgo any shock and awe moments, repeating the lines, “sexy, sexy, sexy” to grab your interests, versus a full onslaught of visceral come on’s she’s now become known for. And then you hear the line: “My Swag is serious, something heavy like a first day period.” While that may pique the interest of the people working at Tampax, it’s not exactly the type of line you want to throw out to turn someone on.

Thankfully, not every song beats you over the head with Janet’s absurdities. There’s “Luv,” the groovy and catchy follow-up to “Feedback” that reminds listeners of the early stages of the pop star’s career when she sang about her affections innocently. There’s also “Rock With U,” a sensual gem in which Ne-Yo helps Janet pay an indirect homage to the disco themes that worked so well on big brother Michael’s song of the same name. The song sounds almost euphoric, and compliments Janet’s whispery delivery on the track. It’s a digitized form of pop music Janet should look into for future recordings.

And then you have the rest. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way Janet decided to keep up with the Jones’ rather than make everyone else keep up with the Jacksons. That mindset is what has led her to record songs like “What’s Ur Name.” It’s good to know Janet has kept up with technology, but isn’t it a bit weird hearing a 41-year-old talk about her sidekick and adding a dude to her MySpace favorites? I'm trying not to sound like an ageist, but she's too old for a sidekick and MySpace. Try a Blackberry Curve, Janet.

Not surprisingly, the most disturbing song on the album is the one in which Janet seeks to push the sexual limit past capacity. On “Discipline,” which Janet calls her “baby making song,” she offers up another ode to masochism and S&M.

"Babe, I need some discipline tonight/Don't hold back/I've been very bad/Make me cry/Got to make me cry babe/I misbehaved/And my punishment should fit my crime/Tie me to something/Take off all my clothes/Daddy I want you to take your time (I'm scared)/My heart is beating fast/Shiver as you grab my neck/Baby, blindfold me daddy/Is better when I don't know what to expect."

Though it’s intended to illicit arousal, it just sounds creepy considering the history of her family. What’s even more disturbing is that comes across as more of the same old, same old from her. It’s easy to point to the backlash Janet suffered from the Superbowl for the failure of 2004’s Damita Jo. But, as time passes on, it’s becoming painfully clear that maybe the problem is Janet herself. In the 1980s and 1990s Janet was ever evolving - treating fans to a different sound and image with each release. These days Janet’s look and sound seem nothing more than a continuation of 2001’s All For You. While she may be pushing the sexual envelop, she hasn’t managed to a put a dent in the creative one for years. If the success (or lack thereof) of "Feedback" is any indication, the good times, much like the closing track on Discipline are "Curtains." If Janet wants to know why that is, she should try on the role of fan and ask herself, "What have you done for me lately?"

Labels: review

For days there was word of a “big surprise” performance at the beginning of the show. That turned out to be Alicia Keys looking like the lovely Lena Horne performing a ‘duet’ with the dead Frank Sinatra. Though it was really awkward and almost laughable to hear Alicia say, “Yeah, uh huh. Sing it, Frank. Yeah!” to the ghost of Grammy past on video, she did well. Sleep-inducing, but she did well.

Prefacing the performance with a montage honoring the Recording Academy’s 50-year-old awards ceremony, I imagine the bigger surprise is that we’ve gone from Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald as nominees to Soulja Boy.

The minute they gave Alicia Keys an award for vocal performance for “No One,” I knew this was going to be a long night. Hate aside, it says a lot of last year’s music scene when an artist that isn’t nominated in any of the major categories performs twice. Get the ratings how you can, CBS!

Speaking of multiples, must we honor the Beatles every year on some award show? Don’t ask me how the tribute went. I went to bathroom.

While it’s no “Achy Breaky Heart,” I’ve warmed to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats.” It sort of reminds me of the white woman’s answer to “Not Gon’ Cry.”

Best Duke Kit honors no doubt go to Morris Day. His hair seemed fresher than most of the female performers --- but I wouldn’t expect anything less from anyone affiliated with Prince, a man who should have thought of “Stilettos (Pumps)” first.

It was a somewhat random segue from "Jungle Love" to “Umbrella,” but the performance was cool. Am I the only one who thought Rihanna looked a lot like that androgynous villain in Ghostbusters? You know, the one that asks Peter Venkman, “Are you a God?”

Yes, she looked great on stage and the red carpet, but c’mon nah. Doesn't she look a little bit like Zuul?

Oh yeah, another thing: Tell Morris to slow his role. She’s old enough to be his great grandson’s first wet dream.

I pretty much laughed the first two minutes of the Tina Turner/Beyonce duet. Granny is not playing with ya’ll. The performance was fine, though I was really hoping they would switch from “Proud Mary” to “Get Me Bodied.” I so wanted to see Tina do the scissor leg.

Who told Cuba Gooding Jr. it was acceptable for him to say “know what I’m saying?” Let’s all remove it from our vocabularies.

Well, she certainly dances like a crackhead. And either she had that crack itch, or she was about to masturbate on stage. Don’t worry, dear: Blake will be out soon.

It was good that she was given the chance to perform. It’s a shame what should have been the biggest nights of her life couldn’t completely come to fruition because of her addiction. Hopefully she pulls together. The shout out to her Bobby Brown, Blake, somewhat worries me.

Sigh. My people, my people. Who invited them?

Edit.

Album of the Year: In typical NARAS fashion, the members of the Academy voted for the oldest name on the ballot. Out of all of the awards Amy Winehouse was nominated for, that was the one award I hoped she would have won. That was a superb album, and one of the finest R&B/Soul offerings to be released in a long time. It's a shame she didn't win that award, because I would have loved to hear her shout out Junebug and 'nem.

Then again, the Academy seems to consider Amy's music "Pop." Now, I get "Pop" means popular, but this is a category Britney Spears has an award in. Why wasn't Amy placed in the R&B categories? Her sound is more rooted in R&B than the likes of Beyonce and Rihanna, who arguably could be placed in the Pop categories themselves. Stop placing artists in categories based on race.

On that note, after watching this, I have to go work on my beats. I have to make sure Young Sinick wins Best New Artist in a year or two.

Labels: award shows, review

Life can be only what you make it
When you’re feeling down, you should never fake it
Say what’s on your mind and you’ll find in time
That all the negative energy, it will all decease

Mary J. Blige has built a career off of channeling her inner demons to create some of contemporary soul music’s finest recordings, leading to her amassing a huge fan base that’s used her music as the soundtrack to their own lives. Over the years, Mary’s been quite candid about her struggles with love – of self and others – addiction, depression, and overall happiness. Not that we needed her to: My Life, her most celebrated album, is chock full of love songs, though all sounded incredibly melancholy, an obvious sign of the pain lingering in the artist behind them. Many eager listeners shared Mary’s yearning to let go of all that ails her with the hopes of obtaining the happiness each of us is owed.

Since that album she’s told us several times that there was no more drama in her life – even going as far to spell it out in an album title – though not many believed her until she finally seemed to breakthrough. “Be Without You,” one of the most successful singles of her career is just as honest as those released a decade prior, only this time she wasn’t trying to convince us that she was happy --- we could hear it for ourselves. Because of that, The Breakthrough, reignited Mary’s chart muscle after Love & Life - which saw her dip back in time and reconnect with Diddy – largely fell on deaf ears.

But now that Mary’s finally let go, she’s alienated a faction of her fan base, who vocally express their displeasure with Mary’s new direction, pressing for more down and out Mary over back flipping out of glee Mary we’ve come to see in recent years.

What does Mary think of this? Judging from the line, “No time for moping around, are you kidding?” from the first single off her new album, Growing Pains, the aptly titled, “Just Fine,” she could care less. This new Mary wants to stop wallowing in her own self-pity and enjoy her life. On the energetic single, she even boasts, “And I’ma still wear a smile if it’s raining.” That’s quite a contrast from the old Mary, who painted the notion of wearing a smile to guise her pain as quite the burden on “Everyday It Rains,” a gem from 1995’s The Show soundtrack.

No longer second guessing herself at every turn, Mary’s not only happy, she’s content. With her age. With her appearance. With where she is in life. This is evident in tracks like the self-love promoting, “Work That,” which features Mary stressing to young women everywhere to be themselves and love who they are. Let’s hope the message resonates with the current crop of new artists male and female alike, who thanks to an image-obsessed music industry, work in an environment where individuality has become an anomaly.

If you haven’t noticed by now, Mary’s in love and finds a way to champion it throughout the album. It sounds great on most songs, like “Stay Down,” but falls a bit flat on others like “What Love Is.” The latter makes the mistake sometimes done by Mariah Carey: Singing about love in the same context it’s discussed in a Sweet Valley High book. Still, Growing Pains shows Blige is in love and through songs like “Talk To Me” and “If You Love Me,” we’re assured she’s dedicated to preserving it.

Take your time, baby don’t rush a thing
Don’t you know I know that we all are struggling
I know it is hard, but we will get far

Despite Mary’s transformation, old habits die hard, and as previously mentioned, not every Mary fan is on the happy train, so the Queen of Hip Hop Soul manages to acknowledge for them and for herself that the fight towards bliss is an ongoing struggle with “Roses” and “Work In Progress (Growing Pains).” Both songs finely articulate that despite Mary being in better place, it took a lot of fighting to get there, and it requires work (and the right attitude) to stay there.

While Growing Pains is a good addition to the Mary J. Blige catalog, listening to it makes me think those who long for the days when Mary sang of struggles over triumphs may be a bit misguided. In some respects, while Mary has no doubt evolved both personally and professionally, much of the music released over the years is a tamed version of the hip hop soul genre Mary is hailed for creating. This is a result of her growing popularity in the mainstream. She now caters to a varied audience that includes fans of the days she sang with K-Ci Hailey and those who are only recently hopping on the Blige bandwagon after seeing her perform with Bono. Pleasing everyone requires quite the balancing act, but Growing Pains confirms that while it’s not yet perfected, it’s doable.

If you looked at my life and see what I’ve seen
Oh you will see that I’m so blue
Down and out, crying everyday, don’t know what to do or to say

Thirteen years ago Mary sang about happiness almost as if it were almost an unattainable goal. Fortunately she's proved otherwise. Whether or not you can stomach her now cheerful demeanor, you have to applaud someone that’s pulled themselves out of their own nadir. She’s on a new journey, and if Growing Pains is any indication, it looks to make for an interesting ride.

Labels: review

When Beyonce went on tour, I was all too geeked to use someone else’s fan club info to gain access to the pre-sale reversed for members. I wanted to get as close as possible – I’m talking close enough to see the glue under her lace front melt away. Then, I saw the prices, and I thought to myself, “Should I really spend this much money?” My rationale was that I had just graduated from college, looking to move, and on the job hunt, so maybe I should start being a responsible adult and save my money for something more practical. I think it’s fair to say I was being an idiot. I was already financially challenged (the term broke is hurtful), so one concert wasn’t going to make that much of a difference.

Then over Thanksgiving I sat and watched The Beyonce Experience. While I know how much I would have loved to see the show live, after watching the concert on DVD, I can’t say that I’m pressed anymore. I’ve seen Beyonce four times in the last six years, and while I’m not looking to get my stan card revoked (but hell, if telling her she needed a muzzle didn’t get me booted, nothing will short of me asking Mathew for a check will), I have to say that mid-way through the show, I got a little bored.

No, I haven’t been possessed. Don’t get me wrong, it was an excellent show. The energy level was high, the incorporation of a live band added new elements to the songs, and Beyonce’s voice is a lot stronger. There was nothing wrong with the show per se. It’s just that while watching it, I kept thinking to myself how I’ve seen all of this all before…several times over, to be exact.

I’ve witnessed Beyonce’s shtick on the TRL Tour, the Livestock Show and Rodeo, the Ladies First Tour, the Destiny Fulfilled…and Loving It (thanks, McDonalds) Tour, and about 80 different awards shows since Beyonce launched her solo career. The same fans she bends down to so her hair can blow in the wind, the same choreography, even the wig – same old, same old.

Beyonce needs to embrace it. Madonna, Janet (up until recently anyway), and even Britney Spears to a degree all add something different to their stage acts. And even if I don’t always like the finish product, I have to give it to Alicia Keys for at least coming up with a new idea and taking the time to the flesh it out. I love B’Day, but I can only imagine how much better the album could have been if the recording process lasted more than two weeks.

Beyonce has been going virtually non-stop for a decade now. I think it’s beginning to even take its toll on her.

After ten years Beyonce now enjoys the status that affords her the chance to go away for a while and come up with something new. There’s no other comparable entertainer out now. The DVD proves that. I get her competitive streak, and the notion that there’s always someone ready to take your place, but c’mon nah, overkill does even more damage than a would-be replacement. Beyonce should give us all the opportunity to miss her.

It would benefit her on so many levels if she just sat her ass down somewhere for a minute. Develop a new sound, a new image, buy a new wig. Why not try the short cut from the “Me, Myself, & I” video? Something, damn.

And more than anything, it would benefit me if she took some time off. She.Is.Everywhere. You can’t escape her. I could say it's my fault for being a stan for so long, but I could evade Beyonceitis and Beyonce would still be in my face. I think she’s on a mission to out endorse every celebrity on the planet. I’m surprised her left cheek doesn’t read, “Brought to you by Geico and the House of Dereon.” The right probably reads, “Paid for by Popeyes.”

For ten years I have loved the experience, but I think it's time for a much needed break! Or maybe, just maybe, if she included "Kitty Kat" in her set, everything mentioned above would be forgiven. Why couldn't she include that song? It's not like we needed another DC medley. She didn't even give us a full video on the DVD. The least she could have done was perform the song on stage. Mmph.

Labels: review

Speaking of Beyonce, you know you’re the star of the show when you’re not even listed as a performer, though you’re still the night’s headliner.

The countdown to Beyonce’s special guest appearance show kicked off with Fergie doing yet another Gwen Stefani impersonation while performing “Fergalicious.”

Then she segued into her hundredth single, “Clumsy” but by then I already got up to get some more water. By the time I made my way back Fergie was wailing the incredibly annoying “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” I started to contemplate grabbing my blanket and sleeping through the rest of this show.

Producers, under the false impression that we needed even more Black Eyed Pea members to perform, decided to let Will.I.Am stay on stage to try and get his Timbaland on. I have no idea what song he was performing, but I do know it was everything like a Fergie performance: A bunch of props, and simple choreography to compensate for a performer without an ounce of rhythm.

After back-to-back performances, Will.I.Am still refused to vacate the stage, and why would he, when there was another rhythmless front woman to join. Nicole Whatchamacallit decided to give us another example of why she needs to give the Pussycat Dolls a call. She performed flopped single #2, “Baby Love” --- a fitting title considering you have to love your baby to deal with the really annoying noises many of them make in the middle of the night, though none are probably nearly as annoying as whatever note Nicole thought she was hitting at the end of the song. I like her, but what was going on?

Just when I thought to hit the bottle of Nyquil, Jimmy Kimmel’s Writer’s Guild strike-approved opening saved the half hour. Thank you, Jimmy Kimmel for waking me up.

Faux punk rocker Avril reminded me of the reason I stopped paying attention to her years ago.

Ashanti gave me another reason to turn on Brown Sugar after she read the list of nominees for Best Soul R&B Male: Akon, T-Pain, and Ne-Yo. John Legend, Maxwell, D'Angelo, can we get it together with the new releases?

Up until this show, I had never heard of the Jonas Brothers, so outside of noting the kid in the white fell and tried to play it off, I have nothing to say. I take it they’re like the brunette version of Hanson?

I’m still not a fan of the song, but Rihanna’s performance with Ne-Yo was pretty good. She’s improving.

So the big “special guest appearance” that “audiences would be talking about tomorrow” was basically a carefully planned joint effort between Dick Clark Productions and Sony/BMG to get this show ratings and Beyonce even more crossover appeal.

Still, someone please get me the mp3 of the country remix to “Irreplaceable.” The lead singer of Sugarland was feeling that song wasn’t she? "To de leff, to de leff."

Beyonce’s team is on a mission to push her to as many different audiences as possible. Expect a polka version of “Get Me Bodied” any day now. That or a zydeco version of "Freakum Dress."

I would ask why Justin Timberlake won the Rock/Pop award and the Best Soul/R&B album, but I doubt I get a credible answer --- ahh well.

Chris Brown’s performance had a lot of lights, acrobatics, energy, and the like. Kind of makes me wish I wasn’t so fat and lazy when I took gymnastics back in middle school. If there's one thing I think he can add to his act, I think it would be to perform with pre-recorded live vocals just to add something fresh to whatever song he's performing.

I was really hoping to hear Alicia perform “Like You’ll Never See Me Again,” but she instead went with the shouting anthem, “No One.” There was a lot of noise to process, but I did enjoy the break into “Murder She Wrote.”

I must say, Alicia dances a lot like Mariah Carey. She looked like she was having a lot of fun, though. I guess that’s the silver lining. She looked great, too. I wouldn’t be shocked if she went backstage and lit it up with her accompanying dancehall artists.

By the end of night, we found out how they got Beyonce to show up and why they kept bringing up Beyonce’s name every other minute besides the need to keep ratings: She won the biggest award of the night.

Did anyone peep her go the wrong way after accepting? I love her.

Mary J. Blige was killing ‘em on stage performing “Just Fine.” She looked a lot like old Mary, even breaking out the old What's The 411? moves. I actually like the song a little more now. Rihanna singing a long was cute.

Wow I must be in a really good mood or something.

I also liked Khadijah’s performance. I knew she could hold a tune, but her voice seems to have gotten a lot stronger. Go Cleo.

All and all I probably should’ve been reading a book or watching something on bootleg (I mean authenticity-challenged) than watching this tribute to the American Idol franchise, but I wanted to look at Beyonce, so I stuck around. That makes it alright.

Labels: award shows, review

In 2001 the Clive Davis protégé was touted as “Bigge meets Beethoven,” - a piano playing prodigy that fused the classic soul of the 60s with the grit of hip hop destined to breathe new life in a sinking genre.

Then I heard Songs In A Minor, a solid but unconvincing effort to persuade me that Alicia Keys was in fact the second coming. There were some highlights, like the first single, “Fallin’,” but part of that song’s allure came in its sound --- credit that belongs to James Brown considering the song lifts heavily from “It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World.”

Sure, she did great covers of Prince and Brian McKnight on the album, but so do most Top 10 contestants from American Idol. By the way, another track from her debut boosts “inspiration” from someone else’s composition: “Loving You” owes a bit of gratitude to Aretha Franklin’s “Natural Woman.” I suppose when you’re affiliated with Clive Davis, selective listings of samples and interpolations are a right, not a privilege.

With her sophomore effort, The Diary of Alicia Keys, the would-be savior of soul delivered the remarkable single, “You Don’t Know My Name.” Beautifully sang, written, and produced, the song is by far one of the best R&B singles released this decade. Equally grand is its follow-up, “If I Ain’t Got You.” But the rest of the album is a mixed bag. Her lauded songwriting capabilities weren’t highlighted on songs like “Dragon Days.”

“Like a damsel in distress, I’m stressing you”.

Seriously?

Though she faltered on some songs, Alicia showed promised that she is indeed capable of producing her own classic album.

However, that album is not As I Am. While many will sneer at the suggestion, more times than not, Alicia Keys comes across just as pre-packaged and transparent as the very pop contemporaries her handlers hail her to be the antithesis to. Indeed not all gimmicks are created equal.

When the hype machine for As I Am was set in motion, the sound of the album was described as “Janis Joplin meets Aretha Franklin.” Modesty aside, once you throw the weight of those names around, it’s understandable that expectations become high. Word soon followed that Linda Perry and John Mayer were being added to the production roster. Let the push for bigger audiences, and displaying ‘growth’ and ‘maturity’ to secure an album of the year nomination begin.

I’m sure she’ll get it. She’ll sell millions of albums, win a bevy of awards, and continue to be celebrated as a phenom. But in a current climate of music that will reward people that can come up with glorified advertisements for expensive bottles of liquor, shoes, and designer duds, there’s only so much value you can place in an industry hailing someone for being so good because everyone else is so bad.

Is the album that bad? No, but it’s not as good as her record company’s press release will have you believe it to be either.

The kickoff single “No One,” while catchy, features Keys offering a shouting-inspired method of singing - leaving her sounding incredibly off pitch and leading one to wonder what effects this will have on her vocal chords in the future.

That same fear is shared on other songs included on As I Am. The idea of her singing out of her natural range may be intended to convey pain and conviction, but it only makes me want to send a couple of tea bags her way.

And when you’re heralded as a songwriter, you expect more than an onslaught of cliché’s. There are generic qualities to “Prelude to a Kiss” and “Superwoman.” Though the former is intended to be considered personal, and the latter empowering, both are cliché-ridden fodder with predictable production values. Does soul come in a can now or something?

“Sure Looks Good To Me” doesn’t help matters, offering trite musings like, “So, don’t rain on my parade. Life’s too short to waste one day.”

Someone strip Alicia of her umbrella. She’s capable of so much more than this.

I know because I listened to the album’s best track, “Like You’ll Never See Me Again,” which delivers on the promise of “You Don’t Know My Name.” It’s a dreamy, sensual groove that effectively captures the era where Prince reigned supreme in all of his purple splendor.

Other gems on As I Am include “Lesson Learned,” a joyous collaboration with John Mayer, and the nostalgia-driven “Wreckless Love.”

None of her albums have yet to wow me, but these songs remind me that Alicia Keys still has the potential to. But when her run of the mill offerings can get above average praise, what’s going to be the driving force that pushes her to dig a little deeper and aim higher?

I’m hoping it comes from Alicia herself. I may not be a believer, but I’m not a complete skeptic. She’s adept at rehashing other people’s classics, but I want to hold on to the belief that she can craft her own any day now.

Labels: review