Breaking Benjamin—”I Will Not Bow”
#40
Music for fans of 300, of which there are many, I suppose. I just wish I knew what it was they think they’re fighting. Death itself is the most likely answer, hence the defeatism. But it’s a generic defeatism, as untouched by reality and as sentimental as any lovey dovey acoustic strumalong. They should just send out black edged Hallmark cards and get it over with.
Trey Songz featuring Gucci Mane & Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em—”LOL :-)”
#51
The music is charming—which, with a production team named Fisha & Price, is only what you’d expect—but Trey Songz never has anything interesting to say, Gucci Mane adds nothing, and Soulja Boy sounds like he just got up and is stumbling around the kitchen making a cup of coffee while shouting out whatever comes into his head that seems to rhyme (including a plug for his most recent hit). The music might prevent this from become dated too quickly, if it isn’t already, but don’t bet on it.
Michael Buble—”Haven’t Met You Yet”
#65
Unlike a lot of critics, I didn’t think Sara Bareilles “Love Song” was a bad record, but this blatant rip-off makes it sound like a masterpiece. You’d think a star like Buble would make his theft less obvious, but subtlety doesn’t seem to be his strong suit. You also wouldn’t think that a heartthrob like Buble would have a voice as thin as tissue paper, but you’d be wrong about that, too. In it’s way, the dumbest record of the year, and that’s saying something.
Jesse McCartney featuring T-Pain—”Body Language”
#84
Not much of a song, but it does provide an interesting view into the shifting commercial allegiances of hip-hop. The original featured loud “Hey!”s in the mode of T.I., but McCartney must have decided that imitating a guy doing time for Federal weapons charges might not be a good idea in light of the age of most of his audience, so he brings in the more benign, cartoonish T-Pain, whose “Hey”s are softer and, needless to say, prettily autotuned. At the same time, T-Pain seems to embrace McCartney as the heir to the recently convicted Chris Brown, referring to their newly formed partnership as Nappy Boy and Pretty Boy, the same phrase he used to describe himself and Brown on “Kiss Kiss”. Meanwhile, musically, McCartney continues to try to cross the gap between Brown and Justin Timberlake without noticing the big sign that says “You Can’t Get There From Here”. This is starting to become as complicated as a telenovella.
Luke Bryan—”Do I”
#85
What, you mean whine and cry and bore us to tears for four endless minutes? Yes, you do.
Gucci Mane featuring Plies—”Wasted”
#95
Gucci Mane has done so many guest spots in the last couple of months—making up for time lost to incarceration—that you’d be excused for thinking he must be as big a name as T-Pain or Lil Wayne. But I tend to think that most of those guest spots were offered as a welcome home and as a form of charity. He’s contributed nothing of value to any of the records he’s appeared on, and here he teams up with The Worst Rapper On The Planet™ and demonstrates how little we actually missed while he was in the joint.
Sean Kingston—”Face Drop”
#98
The closest thing to a personal touch on this faceless follow-up to the even more faceless “Fire Burning” is a reference to being overweight—which Kingston sings as impersonally as everything else. A couple of years ago I thought he might have some real talent, but obviously I was wrong.
Whitney Houston—”Million Dollar Bill”
#100
A weird one. With all the youthful brassiness missing from Houston’s voice and her upper register apparently gone for good, even her uptempo celebrations are subdued. The opening verse sounds like a Sade record sped up, and though the rest settles into a respectable early ’80s soul groove, it never quite takes off. But it gets better every time I listen to it, and at times Houston conjures a dignity and grace reminiscent of her cousin Dionne Warwick. At this point in her career, I can’t think of a better model.
