The Illiterate

Glee Cast
“Forget You” (featuring Gwyneth Paltrow), #11
“Singing In the Rain/Umbrella” (featuring Gwyneth Paltrow), #18

Dr. Dre featuring Snoop Dogg and Akon—“Kush”
#49
When a guy spends over a decade making a record about how wonderful dope is, it’s impossible to miss the ironic disconnect. Which isn’t to suggest that Dre is unaware of that irony himself: this is bouncy, funny, and celebratory in all the right ways. As always, Snoop gets off the best lines (“tight as the pants on will.i.am”). Dre has tricks of his own, though, including one of the slyest musical jokes I’ve ever heard, where the piano figure at the end starts coming apart as if it were being played by a stoner searching the keys for notes he could swear he knew just a minute ago.

Rihanna—“S&M”
#53
Having said in interviews that she’s tired of people paying attention only to the dark side of her music, Rihanna opens her new album with a chorus that includes the borrowed joke “Stick and stones may break my bones/But chains and whips excite me”. Mind you, S&M isn’t as dark or taboo as it used to be (though shouldn’t she at least have given us her safe word?), but considering Rihanna’s very public past in regard to sexual relationships, it seems an odd choice at best, a blatant cashing in at worst. This isn’t a bad record, but I find myself hesitant to learn anything else about Rihanna’s sex life, real or imagined. At the same time I keep flashing on Amy Rigby’s song “Year of the Fling”, about a woman who suddenly finds herself enmeshed in the BDSM scene: “At the peak of her binge/A twinge of fear came to unnerve her/But she mastered that/And it served to pervert her further”. What Rihanna went through was horrible and no doubt traumatic, but did surviving it really make her any stronger?

Nelly and Keri Hilson—“Liv Tonight”
#75
I don’t know if it’s this record in particular, or just their overwhelming presence on the charts these days, but I’m beginning to feel as tired of kick drums as I am of electric guitars, if only because they trap artists in a remorseless groove when they might be better off with more rhythmic freedom. That’s certainly true of Hilson, though I have my doubts about Nelly.

Michael Jackson & Akon—“Hold My Hand”
#84
I can understand why people wondered about the vocals on Jackson’s posthumous recordings: he does sound different, though it’s largely because he’s singing in a lower key—his voice was aging, and except for brief exclamations he couldn’t hit those high notes the way he used to. The phrasing, however, is undeniably Jackson, even if it is just an echo of his glory days. What’s more disappointing is his general lack of presence; most likely he hadn’t finished this when he died, but there’s still too much Akon and not enough MJ. What’s more fascinating, and a little creepy, is the homoerotic subtext that runs though the song. I mean, who are these guys singing to? Some unidentified woman? The world in general? Each other? The record is credited as a duet, after all. Who knows? That’s MJ for you—even posthumously, he’s the weirdest guy in the room.

Train—“Marry Me”
#95
Reviewed in Bubbling Under, 11/21/10

Ke$ha—“Blow”
#97
The problem with Ke$ha’s records isn’t that they’re loud and dumb, it’s that she isn’t prepared to go all the way with the concept. When she says that she and her friends are young and bored, it’s a distancing effect that she probably thinks gives the song some sort of satirical meaning and depth. All it does, though, is cement her image as a privileged “artiste” who’s slumming all the way to the bank.

Flo Rida—“Turn Around (5,4,3,2,1)”
#98
Despite the evidence of his previous records, Flo Rida does not live and die by the hook; he lives and dies by propulsive forward motion, so much so that this time he seems to have lost the hook somewhere back on the track. Maybe he should ask Bruno Mars for another one; he’s bound to have a few lying around.

Bubbling Under:

Keri Hilson—“Pretty Girl Rock”
#102
Hilson is an interesting case. Her guest spots can seem anonymous (as in “Liv Tonight”), but her own records are defiantly idiosyncratic, always coming out of somewhere that seems familiar but with a twist that makes them difficult to trace. This one appears to borrow ideas from relatively obscure female artists like Santigold, Lil Jackie, and VV Brown, and at times almost sounds like a tribute record. At the same time it never sounds like anyone but Hilson. At least it would if I could be sure of exactly what Hilson sounds like. I’m still not sure she’s a major talent, but she’s certainly an intriguing one.

Billy Currington—“Let Me Down Easy”
#103
Currington doesn’t have an original bone in his body or thought in his head, but that doesn’t mean he can’t sound classier or more sophisticated than his country-heartthrob competition. He seems like a genuinely nice, laid-back sort of guy. In other words, he’s an old-school country careerist, and if sometimes he’s a little boring, well, that just comes with the territory.