This archive contains my review of every song to make the top ten in 2007. Songs are arranged alphabetically by artist and then in order by date. The date under each review marks it's first appearence in the top ten, followed (in red) by it's peak position. The row of pictures above is the current top ten.
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top ten top ten
I know, you're supposed to save the list of the best songs for last. But this list is so obvious that it would be anticlimactic to wait until the other two go up to post it. Anyone who’s been paying attention could guess what most of the songs would be. I don’t even think my number ten is that much of a surprise, even if it is a country record that came out over a year and a half ago. When you’ve got only 66 tracks to choose from, a little more than half of which are on the wrong side of the quality curve, there aren’t going to be many surprises when you’re picking out the best. So:
Rihanna – “Umbrella”
Kanye West – “Stronger”
Sean Kingston – “Beautiful Girls”
Mims – “This Is Why I’m Hot”
Justin Timberlake – “What Goes Around…”
Ne-Yo – “Because of You”
Timbaland (ft. Keri Hilson and D.O.E.) – “The Way I Are”
Rihanna (ft. Ne-Yo) – “Hate That I Love You”
Amy Winehouse – “Rehab”
Carrie Underwood – “Before He Cheats”
As I mentioned yesterday, this was a lot harder than I thought it would be. The first six songs are, to me, obvious and undeniable; the next two excellent but ultimately lightweight; and the final two part of a group of seven or eight songs that were just fine, any of which could easily have ended up in either spot. I finally decided on Winehouse and Underwood because both sound so little like anything else that made the chart this year. They could easily be lower, but what would I put in their place? More Timbaland? More Timberlake? T.I.? One of the half dozen crunk/dance records to make top ten this year (you haven’t forgotten Unk, have you)?
I will confess, though, that Underwood won the toss largely for cultural significance and because I felt that there should be some country on the list because country is better and more important than most pop critics care to admit and because there weren’t any other country singers (including Miranda Lambert, godammit) who made top ten this year. Also because, about the four hundredth time through, I realized it has some of the funniest background vocals I’ve ever heard: “Ooo-oooh, both headlights!” I included Winehouse because, even though the production sucks and the arrangement is a little cutesy, the song itself is good, Winehouse can sing, the Dap Kings can play, and those things still matter.
As for everything else, this year the top ten shaped itself into a pretty standard distribution curve: ten percent really good stuff, 80 percent stuff ranging from pretty good to not bad to don’t bother, and ten percent total crap duking it out for the bottom spot (Coming Tomorrow! Akon vs. Diddy! Plain White Ts vs. Gym Class Heroes! Daughtry vs. Daughtry!). Overall, though, I think the quality, certainly at the top, was higher than the last couple of years. The digital market allowed some entertaining outsiders like Kingston and Mims, along with irritating ones like Colbie Caillat and Feist, to make top ten, and also guaranteed a greater variety in the type of music that made the charts. So, though not a great year, it’s still been a promising one.
top ten worst ten
Unfortunately, competition was fairly fierce for this list, and there were any number of records that could have placed in slots six through ten. But even though I know there’s been a great deal of popular outcry against Fergie and Avril Lavigne, neither was in serious consideration. Fergie because I still kind of like her, and Avril because the first two minutes of “Girlfriend”, before she tries to fancy it up, are really pretty good. And though I wanted to have Fall Out Boy on this list, “This Ain’t a Scene…” just wasn’t bad enough to make it (though, as you’ll see below, Patrick Stump is).
10. Baby Bash (ft. T-Pain) – “Cyclone”
9. Plies (ft. T-Pain) – “Shawty”
8. The All American Rejects – “It Ends Tonight”
7. The Plain White Ts – “Hey There Delilah”
6. Colby Caillat – “Bubbly”
The bottom five are just bad records; the top five, however, are another story altogether. To really make the top of this list, I decided, an artist needed to not only make a bad record, but to have committed some sort of crime against humanity in the process.
5. Gym Class Hereos – “Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast In America” For not only reinvigorating the thankfully almost forgotten oeuvre of Supertramp, but for reviving a strain of late-70s smugly self-satisfied sexism that I hoped had disappeared from the world. No, boys, smiling and sounding cute and delivering up a catchy hook doesn’t make you any less of a pig. This makes most sexist emo bands sound like Gloria Steinem. And Patrick Stump? Patrick Stump can go to hell.
4. Daughtry – “It’s Not Over” For being able to sing but for refusing to sing anything worth singing, and for adding fresh blood to the only musical genre I can think of with no redeeming features whatsoever—hard rock power balladry. Whose worst perpetrators are…
3. Nickleback – “Rockstar” For not only being dull themselves, but for making the lives of rockstars sound dull. And, of course, for being The Worst Band In the World.
2. Diddy (ft. Keyshia Cole) – “Last Night” For cynicism and sexism beyond the call of duty; for constantly hiring female vocalists to sing his praises; for making a beat lifted from Prince sound dull; for generally being the Hugh Hefner of the rap world (mitigating factor, though not nearly enough: produced several tracks on American Gangster--maybe Jay-Z knows how to keep his ego in check).
1. Akon – “Sorry, Blame It On Me” For the sort of self-serving candor usually employed by politicians and clergymen caught in airport restrooms; for making top ten with it, anyway.
shoulda-been top ten
Most of the songs on this list were chosen according to one simple, old-fashioned principle: that pop songs are best when they’re fast, bouncy, and melodically and rhythmically catchy. With a couple of exceptions, all of these songs meet that criteria (along with the requirement that they at had to at least have made the Hot 100), and some of them eve go further than that. That is, some of them actually say something. But that’s extra. For me, all that mattered is that they captured my attention, I enjoyed them, and, at this point in time, at least, they didn’t wear out their welcome by being too cloying or cheesy. Believe me, if any one of these records had spent a few weeks in the top ten instead of, or even alongside, any song in my bottom ten, the world would be a better place, at least for an average of four minutes or so.
First, the runners up, or records that I would have been equally happy to see in the top ten, but that aren’t quite as good as the main list, and then the top ten:
Mika – Grace Kelly
Christina Aguilera – Candyman
Eve – Tambourine
Lloyd – Get It Shawty
Josh Turner – Firecracker
10. Paul McCartney – Dance Tonight
The oldest guy on the list, and the one with the worst history of gussying up his records to the point of cloying incomprehensibility, delivers his simplest and catchiest record in years (great video, too). But even with his history, he couldn’t break Top 40’s aversion to playing anyone over the age of 35.
9. Cupid – Cupid Shuffle
Basically a remake of Stevie Wonder’s “Fingertips” without the harmonica, and what (aside from the fact that it isn’t Stevie) could possibly be wrong with that?
8. Jay-Z (ft. Kanye West) – Roc Boys (And The Winner Is…)
Horn chart of the year (not that there were many), and, in the drug dealer’s list of thank yous at the beginning, the most sarcastic saleman’s kiss-off in history: “And most of all, you, the customer”.
7. DJ Khaled (ft just about everybody) – We Takin’ Over
A great anthemic chorus and T.I.s lead-off rap would probably have gotten this by on their own, but it’s Lil Wayne’s overwhelming wrap-up at the end that makes this a near masterpiece. Almost Goyasque in its sense of horror (“I am the beast/Feed me rappers or feed me beats”), it only becomes more intense as it goes on (“That’s a bullethole/It is not a tumor”), and finally so obsessive and incoherent that DJ Khaled has no choice but to drown Wayne out with a quick repeat of the hook and then end the thing as quickly as possible (no doubt feeling lucky to get out alive).
6. Paramore – Misery Business
I never thought anything good could come out of Fueled By Ramen (home of Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco), but this grown-up version of “Girlfriend” does the trick. Maybe it’s having a female lead singer, and thereby cutting out the emo sexism, that does it, but I suspect it has more to do with nifty song construction and a great hook.
5. Taylor Swift – Teardrops On My Guitar
I know, I know, an acoustic country ballad, who needs it? But, as always, it’s best to listen closely. Like all great country, lyrical details matter: the simple fact that the object of her longing has a name makes a huge difference, as does one of the best romantic metaphors of the year : “He’s the song/In the car/I keep singing/Don’t know why I do.” It also helps that at the key emotional moments, Swift actually sounds her age (17), instead of attempting to create some vague sense of “maturity” that would make her more palatable to radio programmers.
4. UGK & Outkast – Intl Players Anthem (I Choose You)
Andre 3000’s intro is the rap of the year (humorous cad division), and at the end Big Boi almost tops him (what is that Paul McCartney business about, though?). Pimp C, R.I.P.
3. My Chemical Romance – Teenagers
Having gone all epic on “Welcome To the Black Parade”, MCR whips out a catchy, readymade tune, metals it up, and applies a polish of self-deprecating humor to their self-serious emo message. Result: catchiest (and funniest) rock song of the year. Records like this could almost make me start to trust white boys with guitars again.
2. Aly and AJ – Potential Break-up Song
I’ll say it one more time, and then I’ll shut up: they was robbed (and now Miley Cyrus, for God’s sake, is getting top 40 airplay).
1. Miranda Lambert – Famous In A Small Town
After listening to this almost non-stop for six months, I have yet to tire of it. If it weren’t for M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes”, it would be my single of the year. Considering the way most country careers go, I have my doubts about her ever pulling it off again. But since she’s already broken the Nashville mold half a dozen ways, I have my hopes.
Akon
don't matter
Though this softens Akon’s loverman-on-the-make stance somewhat, I have the same problem with this carefully crafted piece of romance as I do with his carefully crafted odes to strippers. The confidence he’s assumed since his debut went multi-platinum not only seems to have gone to his head, in the form of more elaborate and slick production, it’s gone to his voice, as well. The desperate ache that made “Locked Up” so fascinating and “Lonely” at least tolerable has disappeared. The voice is no less supple, and it’s still beautiful, but it’s now in service of a man who has lost that earlier sense of desperation, and hence the desire and aspiration, that set his voice apart from everyone else. Now when he shouts out “Konvict”, he’s just announcing the character he’s assumed for this record, not the painful truth it seemed to be two years ago. And when he throws in some reggae-style protest lines and does a Bob Marley imitation, you don’t feel any rise in emotional intensity, even if a part of you admires him for the daring of it. In fact, you feel a little embarrassed, a little ashamed.
2/23/07 #1
Though this softens Akon’s loverman-on-the-make stance somewhat, I have the same problem with this carefully crafted piece of romance as I do with his carefully crafted odes to strippers. The confidence he’s assumed since his debut went multi-platinum not only seems to have gone to his head, in the form of more elaborate and slick production, it’s gone to his voice, as well. The desperate ache that made “Locked Up” so fascinating and “Lonely” at least tolerable has disappeared. The voice is no less supple, and it’s still beautiful, but it’s now in service of a man who has lost that earlier sense of desperation, and hence the desire and aspiration, that set his voice apart from everyone else. Now when he shouts out “Konvict”, he’s just announcing the character he’s assumed for this record, not the painful truth it seemed to be two years ago. And when he throws in some reggae-style protest lines and does a Bob Marley imitation, you don’t feel any rise in emotional intensity, even if a part of you admires him for the daring of it. In fact, you feel a little embarrassed, a little ashamed.
2/23/07 #1
sorry, blame it on me
This shameless and blatantly self-serving mea culpa goes on forever—nearly five minutes of insincere apologetics that ends with Akon blaming just about everybody else in the world for he and his crew dry-humping a fourteen year-old girl on stage a few months ago. He’ll take the responsibility though, ‘cause that’s how much he loves his fans. Exactly how that love expresses itself, however, is open to question: it’s one thing to put a rushed, half-assed explanation/apology on your MySpace page for fans to take or leave as they will—it’s something else altogether to put it up for sale while professing your Christ-like willingness to bear the cross of all the mistakes you claim other people have made (he makes a special point of accusing the girl’s father of lax parenting, even after admitting that he hardly ever sees his own kids). Akon may love his fans, but he obviously loves their money more. As for the music, it’s bare-boned and simplistic, and Akon’s voice seems to have lost almost every bit of the grace and charm it once possessed. Serves him right.
7/27/07 #7
This shameless and blatantly self-serving mea culpa goes on forever—nearly five minutes of insincere apologetics that ends with Akon blaming just about everybody else in the world for he and his crew dry-humping a fourteen year-old girl on stage a few months ago. He’ll take the responsibility though, ‘cause that’s how much he loves his fans. Exactly how that love expresses itself, however, is open to question: it’s one thing to put a rushed, half-assed explanation/apology on your MySpace page for fans to take or leave as they will—it’s something else altogether to put it up for sale while professing your Christ-like willingness to bear the cross of all the mistakes you claim other people have made (he makes a special point of accusing the girl’s father of lax parenting, even after admitting that he hardly ever sees his own kids). Akon may love his fans, but he obviously loves their money more. As for the music, it’s bare-boned and simplistic, and Akon’s voice seems to have lost almost every bit of the grace and charm it once possessed. Serves him right.
7/27/07 #7
The
All-American
Rejects
It Ends Tonight
First they made top ten with a piece of nasty pseudo-punk. Then they spent something like six months in the top twenty with a piece of pseudo-speed-metal/art-rock. Now, predictably enough, here comes the power ballad, which also makes top ten. Don’t you hate it when a band refuses to live up to its name?
1/5/07 #8
First they made top ten with a piece of nasty pseudo-punk. Then they spent something like six months in the top twenty with a piece of pseudo-speed-metal/art-rock. Now, predictably enough, here comes the power ballad, which also makes top ten. Don’t you hate it when a band refuses to live up to its name?
1/5/07 #8
Baby Bash
Cyclone (featuring T-Pain)
If you can work your way past one of the most mind-numbing couplets ever to open a pop record ("She moves her body like a cyclone/and she makes me want to do it all night long"), you’ll find a few decent T-Pain vocalizations ("Rrr-rr-rrr, rr-rr rr-rr-rrr", a smarter line than anything Baby Bash will ever come up with), and a mysterious lyric that sounds like it might be an homage to Shakira. But with an opening line like that, not even a third-string Pussycat Doll would give him a second look.
10/26/07 #7
If you can work your way past one of the most mind-numbing couplets ever to open a pop record ("She moves her body like a cyclone/and she makes me want to do it all night long"), you’ll find a few decent T-Pain vocalizations ("Rrr-rr-rrr, rr-rr rr-rr-rrr", a smarter line than anything Baby Bash will ever come up with), and a mysterious lyric that sounds like it might be an homage to Shakira. But with an opening line like that, not even a third-string Pussycat Doll would give him a second look.
10/26/07 #7
Sara Bareilles
love song
Vocally, it can be hard to tell Bareilles from her chick-pop compatriots—Natasha Bedingfield, Colbie Caillat, Ingrid Michaelson, etc.—all those husky-voiced altos filling the radio with knowing, independent, yearning, working-woman lust. The difference in this case is the lust in the relationship has already died, and Bareilles is stuck with a guy whose emotional dependence, and manipulation, she can do without. Even with the bouncy, somewhat readymade arrangement, her weariness comes through, as does her sense of emotional and intellectual superiority (the offhandedness of some of the lyrics—“I’m not gonna write you a love song…’cause you need it, you see”—suggests she’s trying to explain complicated matters to someone who isn’t quite as bright as she is). It isn’t a great song, but it’s far better than it might first appear, and it obviously connects with a large part of the female audience. Think of it as a slightly less confident version of “Irreplacable” for women who aren’t independently wealthy.
12/28/07 #9
Vocally, it can be hard to tell Bareilles from her chick-pop compatriots—Natasha Bedingfield, Colbie Caillat, Ingrid Michaelson, etc.—all those husky-voiced altos filling the radio with knowing, independent, yearning, working-woman lust. The difference in this case is the lust in the relationship has already died, and Bareilles is stuck with a guy whose emotional dependence, and manipulation, she can do without. Even with the bouncy, somewhat readymade arrangement, her weariness comes through, as does her sense of emotional and intellectual superiority (the offhandedness of some of the lyrics—“I’m not gonna write you a love song…’cause you need it, you see”—suggests she’s trying to explain complicated matters to someone who isn’t quite as bright as she is). It isn’t a great song, but it’s far better than it might first appear, and it obviously connects with a large part of the female audience. Think of it as a slightly less confident version of “Irreplacable” for women who aren’t independently wealthy.
12/28/07 #9
Beyonce
and
Shakira
Beautiful Liar
In which the queen of hip-hop and the queen of Latin join forces and go to—where else?—Bollywood. The production is irritating—the voices sound so alike that it's difficult at first to know what the song is about. Turns out it's a good old-fashioned sisterhood anthem: cheated on by the same guy, they decide their friendship is more important, and both dump him. Since Beyonce and Shakira have already demonstrated their ability to handle emotional extremes, it might have been more interesting if they were a little less understanding, but since neither has ever demonstrated much of a sense of humor, at least in their music, it might also have been an overwrought disaster. So they play it friendly and safe, and come up with something pleasant and insignificant that won't damage, or do much to improve, the standing of either.
3/31/07 #3
In which the queen of hip-hop and the queen of Latin join forces and go to—where else?—Bollywood. The production is irritating—the voices sound so alike that it's difficult at first to know what the song is about. Turns out it's a good old-fashioned sisterhood anthem: cheated on by the same guy, they decide their friendship is more important, and both dump him. Since Beyonce and Shakira have already demonstrated their ability to handle emotional extremes, it might have been more interesting if they were a little less understanding, but since neither has ever demonstrated much of a sense of humor, at least in their music, it might also have been an overwrought disaster. So they play it friendly and safe, and come up with something pleasant and insignificant that won't damage, or do much to improve, the standing of either.
3/31/07 #3
Bone
Thugs
-N-
Harmony
I Tried (featuring Akon)
So it's been a while. You were hot once: number one album, number one single and a couple of other big sellers, even a guest spot on a Mariah Carey record. But the fact is that you haven't made the top ten for a decade, and haven't even come close since 1999. You even did a Bee Gees, splitting into a solo act and a brother duo, but nothing worked. Now it's time for the comeback! So who you gonna call? The hottest guy in the business, of course, Akon (Timbaland just isn't your style). Everything he sings on makes top ten. If it's a good slow jam lamentation, and Konvict sings the chorus, no one will even notice the lame rap clichés or how old you are. Damn if it didn't work, too.
4/27/07 #6
So it's been a while. You were hot once: number one album, number one single and a couple of other big sellers, even a guest spot on a Mariah Carey record. But the fact is that you haven't made the top ten for a decade, and haven't even come close since 1999. You even did a Bee Gees, splitting into a solo act and a brother duo, but nothing worked. Now it's time for the comeback! So who you gonna call? The hottest guy in the business, of course, Akon (Timbaland just isn't your style). Everything he sings on makes top ten. If it's a good slow jam lamentation, and Konvict sings the chorus, no one will even notice the lame rap clichés or how old you are. Damn if it didn't work, too.
4/27/07 #6
Chris Brown
Kiss Kiss (featuring T-Pain)
You knew it was coming, right? The day that T-Pain took his vocodered larynx all the way into Chipmunk territory? Fortunately, he plays it for a joke, and with all the other vocal hilarity (dog barks and panting, various distended “heys”, a killer white DJ impersonation), performs the estimable service of making us forget that Chris Brown is even on this record. A hoot from beginning to end, but when Brown, whose last single, “Wall To Wall”, tanked with a thud louder than his entire career, refers to himself as “Pretty Boy”, he’s expressing a deeper truth than he realizes.
10/26/07 #1
You knew it was coming, right? The day that T-Pain took his vocodered larynx all the way into Chipmunk territory? Fortunately, he plays it for a joke, and with all the other vocal hilarity (dog barks and panting, various distended “heys”, a killer white DJ impersonation), performs the estimable service of making us forget that Chris Brown is even on this record. A hoot from beginning to end, but when Brown, whose last single, “Wall To Wall”, tanked with a thud louder than his entire career, refers to himself as “Pretty Boy”, he’s expressing a deeper truth than he realizes.
10/26/07 #1
Colbie Caillat
Bubbly
Both little-girl-giggly and know-it-all-dirty, this cloying advertisement for orgasm is chick lit for the pop charts, and the only wonder is why it took so long. The spare production and Caillat’s husky voice help leaven a certain amount of cutesiness, but not nearly enough, and the end result is so dippy you wonder if Caillat has been taking lessons from Toni Tennille. Except Tennille sang to her Captain: Caillat is so self-absorbed I can’t tell if she’s singing to a man, a sex toy, or her own fingers.
9/28/07 #5
Both little-girl-giggly and know-it-all-dirty, this cloying advertisement for orgasm is chick lit for the pop charts, and the only wonder is why it took so long. The spare production and Caillat’s husky voice help leaven a certain amount of cutesiness, but not nearly enough, and the end result is so dippy you wonder if Caillat has been taking lessons from Toni Tennille. Except Tennille sang to her Captain: Caillat is so self-absorbed I can’t tell if she’s singing to a man, a sex toy, or her own fingers.
9/28/07 #5
Kelly
Clarkson
Never Again
Whatever this record may be, it sure ain't teenpop. I'm not sure it's pop of any kind. The lyrics range from juvenile hatred (hoping the other woman's wedding ring turns her finger green) to deep, vengeful, adult bitterness (“I hope when you're in bed with her you think of me”). The music is a constant roar, only softening long enough for Clarkson to catch her breath. There isn't a hint of self-justification in it, either—she knows there's no excuse for going on this way, but just try and stop her. At least she isn't a self-righteous hypocrite. There's a lot of pent up anger in this woman, but that doesn't make her oversinging any more bearable or turn this artless rant into a great record. Put a lid on that anger and let it simmer instead of constantly boiling over and she could be a great pop singer. If she keeps up like this, though, over time she'll only become even more shrill and irritating—if she doesn't blow her voice first.
5/4/07 #8
Whatever this record may be, it sure ain't teenpop. I'm not sure it's pop of any kind. The lyrics range from juvenile hatred (hoping the other woman's wedding ring turns her finger green) to deep, vengeful, adult bitterness (“I hope when you're in bed with her you think of me”). The music is a constant roar, only softening long enough for Clarkson to catch her breath. There isn't a hint of self-justification in it, either—she knows there's no excuse for going on this way, but just try and stop her. At least she isn't a self-righteous hypocrite. There's a lot of pent up anger in this woman, but that doesn't make her oversinging any more bearable or turn this artless rant into a great record. Put a lid on that anger and let it simmer instead of constantly boiling over and she could be a great pop singer. If she keeps up like this, though, over time she'll only become even more shrill and irritating—if she doesn't blow her voice first.
5/4/07 #8
Keyshia Cole
Let It Go (featuring Missy Elliott and Lil Kim)
I’m all for the ladies declaring their love rights, but this sounds like three or four different songs patched together, each one a bore. It feels like it’s going to go on forever. And despite what the ladies claim, it isn’t hot. It isn’t even tepid.
9/14/07 #7
I’m all for the ladies declaring their love rights, but this sounds like three or four different songs patched together, each one a bore. It feels like it’s going to go on forever. And despite what the ladies claim, it isn’t hot. It isn’t even tepid.
9/14/07 #7
Daughtry
It's Not Over
Irritating as he is, it’s obvious that Chris Daughtry was the most talented singer on American Idol last year (Taylor Hicks just doesn’t have a strong enough voice, and Katherine McPhee, even on “Over the Rainbow” of all things, sings as if in complete ignorance as to what the lyrics of her songs mean). Unfortunately, Daughtry is only too aware of his talent, which is a large part of what makes him so irritating. The other part of what makes him irritating is his pedestrian, old-fashioned preference for ponderous, overbearing, metal-edged rock. Put those irritations together and you have the male, pop/metal version of Mariah Carey, a singer who chooses his material to highlight his own voice, with little regard to meaning or sense. He isn’t as talented, though—or as smart—and with luck his career of boring power ballads should be a short one.
1/26/07 #4
Irritating as he is, it’s obvious that Chris Daughtry was the most talented singer on American Idol last year (Taylor Hicks just doesn’t have a strong enough voice, and Katherine McPhee, even on “Over the Rainbow” of all things, sings as if in complete ignorance as to what the lyrics of her songs mean). Unfortunately, Daughtry is only too aware of his talent, which is a large part of what makes him so irritating. The other part of what makes him irritating is his pedestrian, old-fashioned preference for ponderous, overbearing, metal-edged rock. Put those irritations together and you have the male, pop/metal version of Mariah Carey, a singer who chooses his material to highlight his own voice, with little regard to meaning or sense. He isn’t as talented, though—or as smart—and with luck his career of boring power ballads should be a short one.
1/26/07 #4
Home
What a canny hustler this American Idol loser is—only his second single and he’s already laying the groundwork for the Bon Jovi-like second stage of his career as a modern country and western singer. I’ve been impressed for some time now at the way Jon and his cohorts have managed to shift markets from arena rock to country without the slightest change in style, and Daughtry has obviously been watching them closely, as well. His musical and lyrical clichés carefully lined up and primed, he starts shooting them off from the very first note and never lets up. The music is still too much Nickelback and not enough Rascal Flats, but all he needs to do is lay off the power chords and crank up the mandolin and steel guitar and he’ll be home free. Nothing like planning ahead.
5/25/07 #5
What a canny hustler this American Idol loser is—only his second single and he’s already laying the groundwork for the Bon Jovi-like second stage of his career as a modern country and western singer. I’ve been impressed for some time now at the way Jon and his cohorts have managed to shift markets from arena rock to country without the slightest change in style, and Daughtry has obviously been watching them closely, as well. His musical and lyrical clichés carefully lined up and primed, he starts shooting them off from the very first note and never lets up. The music is still too much Nickelback and not enough Rascal Flats, but all he needs to do is lay off the power chords and crank up the mandolin and steel guitar and he’ll be home free. Nothing like planning ahead.
5/25/07 #5
Diddy
Last Night (featuring Keyshia Cole)
First things first: without Keyshia Cole, this record doesn't even make top forty, much less top ten. The beat is a lugubrious Prince retread, the chorus is almost nonexistent, and Diddy devotes the whole record to feeling sorry for himself. Only Cole comes across; unfortunately, like all the women on Diddy's records, she does nothing but declare her undying affection to Diddy, begging him to understand how much she really loves him. What ultimately kills the record, though, is the little studio goof that ends the “explicit” version (aka “the version that everyone will buy”), where Diddy calls Cole a bitch, threatens to shoot up her apartment, and generally glories in his own insincerity. No doubt this is Diddy's attempt to show how “real” he is, how he doesn't take all that sentimental gush he spouts in his songs seriously. His laugh at the end suggests he sees any take on romance, sentimental or cynical, as something of a joke. I love pop artifice, and I'm not much for trumped up sincerity, but I'm not too hot on artists who insult their audience by trying to play things from whatever angle or multiple angles they think will get them the most money, either. If there's a bigger jerk in pop music than Diddy, I can't think who it is.
4/6/07 #10
First things first: without Keyshia Cole, this record doesn't even make top forty, much less top ten. The beat is a lugubrious Prince retread, the chorus is almost nonexistent, and Diddy devotes the whole record to feeling sorry for himself. Only Cole comes across; unfortunately, like all the women on Diddy's records, she does nothing but declare her undying affection to Diddy, begging him to understand how much she really loves him. What ultimately kills the record, though, is the little studio goof that ends the “explicit” version (aka “the version that everyone will buy”), where Diddy calls Cole a bitch, threatens to shoot up her apartment, and generally glories in his own insincerity. No doubt this is Diddy's attempt to show how “real” he is, how he doesn't take all that sentimental gush he spouts in his songs seriously. His laugh at the end suggests he sees any take on romance, sentimental or cynical, as something of a joke. I love pop artifice, and I'm not much for trumped up sincerity, but I'm not too hot on artists who insult their audience by trying to play things from whatever angle or multiple angles they think will get them the most money, either. If there's a bigger jerk in pop music than Diddy, I can't think who it is.
4/6/07 #10
The
Dixie Chicks
not ready to make nice
After watching the Dixie Chicks perform this song with fire on the Grammy Awards, I’d like to say that I enjoy the record more than I do, but I can’t. There’s a lot of intelligence and true heartache on display here—that their dismay is directed toward their fans, and not at country radio or other CW artists who put them down, provides ample evidence of how hurt they feel—but for all that, it’s still a Dixie Chicks record. That is, it’s still a heap of well-meaning platitudes served up on a bed of country-pop clichés. They may be worthwhile platitudes, and well-used clichés, but they don’t make this a great record, or even a particularly good one. The basic dramatic structure (soft, medium, sudden dramatic crescendo, soft) is so obvious you can see the effects coming a mile away, draining most of the emotion out of the record from the very beginning. That their country fiddler has turned into an overwrought violin player doesn’t bode well for the future, either.
2/23/07 #4
After watching the Dixie Chicks perform this song with fire on the Grammy Awards, I’d like to say that I enjoy the record more than I do, but I can’t. There’s a lot of intelligence and true heartache on display here—that their dismay is directed toward their fans, and not at country radio or other CW artists who put them down, provides ample evidence of how hurt they feel—but for all that, it’s still a Dixie Chicks record. That is, it’s still a heap of well-meaning platitudes served up on a bed of country-pop clichés. They may be worthwhile platitudes, and well-used clichés, but they don’t make this a great record, or even a particularly good one. The basic dramatic structure (soft, medium, sudden dramatic crescendo, soft) is so obvious you can see the effects coming a mile away, draining most of the emotion out of the record from the very beginning. That their country fiddler has turned into an overwrought violin player doesn’t bode well for the future, either.
2/23/07 #4
Fabolous
make me better (featuring Ne-Yo)
Like Bone Thugs-N-Harmony's "I Tried" with Akon, or Rihanna's "Break It Off" with Sean Paul, the credits on this record are essentially backwards. Fabolous may be the official headliner, but he sounds a lot more like the guest on a Ne-Yo record than the other way around. Whatever the case, although there are a lot of good things going on here somehow they don't add up to much. Ne-Yo contributes a great hook and some snazzy MJ style vocals, while Fabolous, possibly in reaction to the all-powerful women who have been stomping up and down the charts the last couple of years demanding respect, gives the ladies (or at least one of them) their due. But from the pre-distorted bass, which sounds as if it were already pumping out of the trunk, to the angelic harmony break two-thirds of the way through, this sounds too calculated, and too borrowed, to get over. I know a lot of people think Ne-Yo is a genius, and they may be right, but so far, except for the low-keyed "So Sick", he's a genius in snippets—he still hasn't put it all together.
6/29/07 #8
Like Bone Thugs-N-Harmony's "I Tried" with Akon, or Rihanna's "Break It Off" with Sean Paul, the credits on this record are essentially backwards. Fabolous may be the official headliner, but he sounds a lot more like the guest on a Ne-Yo record than the other way around. Whatever the case, although there are a lot of good things going on here somehow they don't add up to much. Ne-Yo contributes a great hook and some snazzy MJ style vocals, while Fabolous, possibly in reaction to the all-powerful women who have been stomping up and down the charts the last couple of years demanding respect, gives the ladies (or at least one of them) their due. But from the pre-distorted bass, which sounds as if it were already pumping out of the trunk, to the angelic harmony break two-thirds of the way through, this sounds too calculated, and too borrowed, to get over. I know a lot of people think Ne-Yo is a genius, and they may be right, but so far, except for the low-keyed "So Sick", he's a genius in snippets—he still hasn't put it all together.
6/29/07 #8
Fall Out Boy
This Ain't a scene, it's an arms race
Now that they’re big time and then some, Fall Out Boy devote their first record since achieving fame to making fun of the bands that have tried to climb onto the emo bandwagon, accusing them of being insincere audience manipulators (though I assume that doesn’t include their clones, Panic! At the Disco, who have made them lots of money). The music is both bombastic and ordinary, calling into question why anyone would want to imitate them at all, and their air of self-importance and superiority should be a turn-off to anybody who’s managed to mature beyond the age of 16. At the end they try to cover their self-righteousness with sentiment by dedicating the record to “All the boys who the dance floor didn't love/And all the girls whose lips couldn't move fast enough”. Self-deceit being one of the hallmarks of those who trade in sincerity, they probably think they mean it, too. The rock band as guardian angel is hardly a new concept, but it strikes me as more than a little self-defeating to set yourself up as leaders of a culture (if super-sensitive high school geekdom can be called a culture) that explicitly denies the concept of leaders. When your record debuts at number two, though, it may be difficult to think of yourself as anything else. As to who’s the bigger fool, the band or its audience, only time will tell.
1/26/07 #2
Now that they’re big time and then some, Fall Out Boy devote their first record since achieving fame to making fun of the bands that have tried to climb onto the emo bandwagon, accusing them of being insincere audience manipulators (though I assume that doesn’t include their clones, Panic! At the Disco, who have made them lots of money). The music is both bombastic and ordinary, calling into question why anyone would want to imitate them at all, and their air of self-importance and superiority should be a turn-off to anybody who’s managed to mature beyond the age of 16. At the end they try to cover their self-righteousness with sentiment by dedicating the record to “All the boys who the dance floor didn't love/And all the girls whose lips couldn't move fast enough”. Self-deceit being one of the hallmarks of those who trade in sincerity, they probably think they mean it, too. The rock band as guardian angel is hardly a new concept, but it strikes me as more than a little self-defeating to set yourself up as leaders of a culture (if super-sensitive high school geekdom can be called a culture) that explicitly denies the concept of leaders. When your record debuts at number two, though, it may be difficult to think of yourself as anything else. As to who’s the bigger fool, the band or its audience, only time will tell.
1/26/07 #2
Feist
1,2,3,4
In its own super-hip way, this is as emotionally vacant as Colbie Callait’s “Bubbly”, and a lot more self-absorbed, with the added detriment of being incoherent both musically and lyrically (or maybe it’s just vocally, since Feist garbles with the best of them). As irritating as “Bubbly” is, at least it’s about something specific, which is more than I can say for this muddled pastiche. If you need a real dose of dark romantic pop with Burt Bacharach overtones, may I suggest digging into the Beautiful South’s catalog (if you can find any of it)? I mean, have you ever heard Jacqueline Abbott?
10/5/07 #8
In its own super-hip way, this is as emotionally vacant as Colbie Callait’s “Bubbly”, and a lot more self-absorbed, with the added detriment of being incoherent both musically and lyrically (or maybe it’s just vocally, since Feist garbles with the best of them). As irritating as “Bubbly” is, at least it’s about something specific, which is more than I can say for this muddled pastiche. If you need a real dose of dark romantic pop with Burt Bacharach overtones, may I suggest digging into the Beautiful South’s catalog (if you can find any of it)? I mean, have you ever heard Jacqueline Abbott?
10/5/07 #8
Fergie
Glamorous (featuring Ludacris)
The spelling bee business is starting to get tired, and in the last verse she stoops to show business sentimentality, thanking all the little people for getting her on TV and all, but for a slow jam defense of diva excess, not bad. Nice to know that, just like someone I love, she gets the occasional craving for Taco Bell. And Ludacris should win a special Grammy for that “I gotta keep enough lettuce to support your shoe fetish” line.
2/16/07 #1
The spelling bee business is starting to get tired, and in the last verse she stoops to show business sentimentality, thanking all the little people for getting her on TV and all, but for a slow jam defense of diva excess, not bad. Nice to know that, just like someone I love, she gets the occasional craving for Taco Bell. And Ludacris should win a special Grammy for that “I gotta keep enough lettuce to support your shoe fetish” line.
2/16/07 #1
Big Girls Don't Cry
This has a pleasant lilt to it, and Fergie haters may be somewhat chagrined by proof that she can actually sing (as if “My Humps” hadn’t proved that already), but the lyrics are far too cute, and like many will.i.am productions the record shifts gears too often and goes on longer than it should. It sounds like two or three mildly pleasant trifles mixed up and jammed together, without any one adding value to the other. I’m glad the two of them have so many ideas, but I wish they’d let them grow into something organic and more complex before they send them out into the world.
6/1/07 #1
This has a pleasant lilt to it, and Fergie haters may be somewhat chagrined by proof that she can actually sing (as if “My Humps” hadn’t proved that already), but the lyrics are far too cute, and like many will.i.am productions the record shifts gears too often and goes on longer than it should. It sounds like two or three mildly pleasant trifles mixed up and jammed together, without any one adding value to the other. I’m glad the two of them have so many ideas, but I wish they’d let them grow into something organic and more complex before they send them out into the world.
6/1/07 #1
Clumsy
This is actually a better record than “Glamorous” or “Big Girls Don’t Cry”, but it ultimately leaves me feeling somewhat ambivalent. The dubwise verses are pleasant enough, probably the best bits of actual music Fergie has produced, and combining a fifty-year-old Little Richard sample with a cheesy Casio beat could be considered something of a coup. If only the song itself wasn’t so empty. Did will.i.am think that any homage to 50’s rock—or early eighties synth-pop, for that matter—had to be ironic or stupid for the audience to buy it? Or does his kitchen-sink approach to sampling forbid, in his mind at least, anything but nonsense? Whatever the case, Fergie’s spoken bit in the middle is an incredible mistake, draining whatever energy and sense there is right out of the song. But somehow I don’t think we can blame will.i.am for that one.
11/23/07 #7
This is actually a better record than “Glamorous” or “Big Girls Don’t Cry”, but it ultimately leaves me feeling somewhat ambivalent. The dubwise verses are pleasant enough, probably the best bits of actual music Fergie has produced, and combining a fifty-year-old Little Richard sample with a cheesy Casio beat could be considered something of a coup. If only the song itself wasn’t so empty. Did will.i.am think that any homage to 50’s rock—or early eighties synth-pop, for that matter—had to be ironic or stupid for the audience to buy it? Or does his kitchen-sink approach to sampling forbid, in his mind at least, anything but nonsense? Whatever the case, Fergie’s spoken bit in the middle is an incredible mistake, draining whatever energy and sense there is right out of the song. But somehow I don’t think we can blame will.i.am for that one.
11/23/07 #7
50 Cent
Ayo Technology (featuring Justin Timberlake and Timbaland)
Musically, this is striking at first, an aural approximation of a dark, neon and black-light lit strip club, the sort of atmosphere you'd expect to find in a sci-fi noir like Blade Runner. It gets old, though (just like most sci-fi noir), and the lyrics, which tell the tale of a guy who’s bored with internet pornography and decides to take a half step toward the real thing by patronizing his local strip club, are so off-putting the record is instantly ruined. From 50, we probably can’t expect much better anymore—he ran out of ideas after his first album, but got by on The Massacre because he hadn’t yet realized that fact himself (and because he sounded, unlike most rappers, as if he actually enjoyed sex). Now he mumbles like some half-drugged lounge-lizard, so listless he barely has the strength to enunciate his clichéd sexual demands, seemingly embarrassed by the realization that he’s doing nothing new here. More depressing than 50’s inevitable decline, however, is Justin Timberlake’s willingness to go down with him. On his own records, JT mixes beach party romantic images with intense sexual heat (courtesy of Timbaland) and comes close to creating something totally new. Here, immersing himself in a sub-genre (strip-club rap) that exhausted itself over a year ago, if not before, the best he can come up with is: “Ayo, I’m tired of using technology/why don't you sit down on top of me”. That is possibly the stupidest hook line in an era of stupid hook lines, which might be impressive if the line showed any sign of charm or a sense of humor. Instead, JT enunciates it within an inch of its life. In that respect, mumbling 50 seems to be the one who shows the most sense.
9/21/07 #5
Musically, this is striking at first, an aural approximation of a dark, neon and black-light lit strip club, the sort of atmosphere you'd expect to find in a sci-fi noir like Blade Runner. It gets old, though (just like most sci-fi noir), and the lyrics, which tell the tale of a guy who’s bored with internet pornography and decides to take a half step toward the real thing by patronizing his local strip club, are so off-putting the record is instantly ruined. From 50, we probably can’t expect much better anymore—he ran out of ideas after his first album, but got by on The Massacre because he hadn’t yet realized that fact himself (and because he sounded, unlike most rappers, as if he actually enjoyed sex). Now he mumbles like some half-drugged lounge-lizard, so listless he barely has the strength to enunciate his clichéd sexual demands, seemingly embarrassed by the realization that he’s doing nothing new here. More depressing than 50’s inevitable decline, however, is Justin Timberlake’s willingness to go down with him. On his own records, JT mixes beach party romantic images with intense sexual heat (courtesy of Timbaland) and comes close to creating something totally new. Here, immersing himself in a sub-genre (strip-club rap) that exhausted itself over a year ago, if not before, the best he can come up with is: “Ayo, I’m tired of using technology/why don't you sit down on top of me”. That is possibly the stupidest hook line in an era of stupid hook lines, which might be impressive if the line showed any sign of charm or a sense of humor. Instead, JT enunciates it within an inch of its life. In that respect, mumbling 50 seems to be the one who shows the most sense.
9/21/07 #5
Finger Eleven
paralyzer
The borrowed Led Zep riff keeps it going, but what really makes this work is the off-hand world-weariness and self-doubt of the verses. “This club will probably be closed in three weeks/That would be cool with me.” Though they may ultimately turn into the genre’s version of Nickelback (the generic quality of the chorus certainly points that way), all I can think right now is: Canada—even their emo bands have a sense of proportion.
11/16/07 #6
The borrowed Led Zep riff keeps it going, but what really makes this work is the off-hand world-weariness and self-doubt of the verses. “This club will probably be closed in three weeks/That would be cool with me.” Though they may ultimately turn into the genre’s version of Nickelback (the generic quality of the chorus certainly points that way), all I can think right now is: Canada—even their emo bands have a sense of proportion.
11/16/07 #6
Flo Rida
Low (featuringT-Pain)
A great T-Pain chorus and raps with enough rhythmic variation to keep you interested even when they have nothing new to say (we’re back in the strip club again, folks) make this the catchiest rap record in ages. Just to demonstrate how much more important lyrical flow is than lyrical sense, T-Pain changes the woman’s clothes half-way through the chorus: first it’s apple-bottom jeans and fur boots, then it’s baggy sweat pants and Reeboks. Either this is some fashion movement I’m not aware of, or she’s the world’s fastest quick change artist. I’m sure T-Pain, and most of his audience, doesn’t care one way or the other.
11/16/07 #1
A great T-Pain chorus and raps with enough rhythmic variation to keep you interested even when they have nothing new to say (we’re back in the strip club again, folks) make this the catchiest rap record in ages. Just to demonstrate how much more important lyrical flow is than lyrical sense, T-Pain changes the woman’s clothes half-way through the chorus: first it’s apple-bottom jeans and fur boots, then it’s baggy sweat pants and Reeboks. Either this is some fashion movement I’m not aware of, or she’s the world’s fastest quick change artist. I’m sure T-Pain, and most of his audience, doesn’t care one way or the other.
11/16/07 #1
Gym Class Heroes
Cupid's Chokehold (featuring Patrick Stump)
The latest addition to the Fall Out Boy Empire, a multi-racial hip-hop boy band who, even with their just-another-nerd moniker, might as well be the modern version of New Edition. With FOB’s Patrick Stump providing the necessary cutting-edge sexism on the chorus, the boys themselves are free to wax cutely lyrical about their girl. They’re clever for sure, but that Supertramp sample gives the game away. Aside from its casual sexism, it demonstrates that while these guys were smart enough to hold onto their parents record collection, they didn’t have enough brains to sift out the bad stuff. They just went for a hook that would stick in your head.
2/16/07 #4
The latest addition to the Fall Out Boy Empire, a multi-racial hip-hop boy band who, even with their just-another-nerd moniker, might as well be the modern version of New Edition. With FOB’s Patrick Stump providing the necessary cutting-edge sexism on the chorus, the boys themselves are free to wax cutely lyrical about their girl. They’re clever for sure, but that Supertramp sample gives the game away. Aside from its casual sexism, it demonstrates that while these guys were smart enough to hold onto their parents record collection, they didn’t have enough brains to sift out the bad stuff. They just went for a hook that would stick in your head.
2/16/07 #4
High School Musical Cast
what time is it?
For some bizarre reason I find myself torn over this record. I should, on both general and specific principles, hate it. This is soundtrack music, and Disney teen movie soundtrack music at that, slick and manipulative, with the vocals mixed too high and the lyrics over-enunciated and the arrangement packing an overdose of high-fructose corn syrup. But it isn’t completely lacking in charm, especially in the vocals, which are properly non-professional, and its hedonistic summer vacation fantasy for middle-schoolers isn’t all that different from, say, Chris Brown-style rap fantasies about the high life in the clubs directed at older teenagers. Except for the obvious absence of sex, drugs, alcohol, and gun (and dick) waving, the vision of fun and games and non-stop partying is almost exactly the same, and maybe a little more mature. It’s true that this sells the idea of having fun rather than providing much fun itself, but at least it avoids the “Chicken Soup for the Disney Demographic’s Soul” lyrics that make the Hannah Montana records so unbearable. Besides, isn’t high energy escapism one of the things pop is supposed to be about? And who says middle-schoolers don’t deserve their share?
7/27/07 #6
For some bizarre reason I find myself torn over this record. I should, on both general and specific principles, hate it. This is soundtrack music, and Disney teen movie soundtrack music at that, slick and manipulative, with the vocals mixed too high and the lyrics over-enunciated and the arrangement packing an overdose of high-fructose corn syrup. But it isn’t completely lacking in charm, especially in the vocals, which are properly non-professional, and its hedonistic summer vacation fantasy for middle-schoolers isn’t all that different from, say, Chris Brown-style rap fantasies about the high life in the clubs directed at older teenagers. Except for the obvious absence of sex, drugs, alcohol, and gun (and dick) waving, the vision of fun and games and non-stop partying is almost exactly the same, and maybe a little more mature. It’s true that this sells the idea of having fun rather than providing much fun itself, but at least it avoids the “Chicken Soup for the Disney Demographic’s Soul” lyrics that make the Hannah Montana records so unbearable. Besides, isn’t high energy escapism one of the things pop is supposed to be about? And who says middle-schoolers don’t deserve their share?
7/27/07 #6
J. Holiday
bed
"Hey, baby, why don’t you put that Victoria’s Secret outfit on?"
"Say what?"
"Then you can touch my back in that special spot."
"What the hell you talking about?"
"You know, baby, like that J. Holiday jam? 'Gonna put you to bed'. That’s some sexy shit."
"Mm-hmm."
"Don’t that make you all hot? Make you want to do it ‘til the sun comes up?"
"Mm-hmm—when he sings it. Right now I’m just tired."
"I know, baby, but that’s why I love you, going through that 9 to 5 staying as cute as you do."
"You so full of shit."
"But baby, I'm just trying—"
"First of all, I ain’t got no Victoria’s Secret outfit shit, cause I’ll be damned if I’ll spend a whole day’s wages buying a fucking brassiere. Second, you wanna do it all night long you can damn well wait ‘til Friday, cause I got to get up and go to work in the morning."
"Ah now, shawty, I just wanna put you to bed."
"That’s another thing: I am not you or anybody else’s ‘shawty’. I am your goddamned wife, and you better treat me with some fucking respect or I ain’t gonna be much longer."
"But baby—"
"And if you want a piece of this girl you better go out and get yourself a real goddamned job and fucking earn it."
"Ah, baby—"
"Put me to bed! What am I, some goddamned invalid?"
9/21/07 #5
"Hey, baby, why don’t you put that Victoria’s Secret outfit on?"
"Say what?"
"Then you can touch my back in that special spot."
"What the hell you talking about?"
"You know, baby, like that J. Holiday jam? 'Gonna put you to bed'. That’s some sexy shit."
"Mm-hmm."
"Don’t that make you all hot? Make you want to do it ‘til the sun comes up?"
"Mm-hmm—when he sings it. Right now I’m just tired."
"I know, baby, but that’s why I love you, going through that 9 to 5 staying as cute as you do."
"You so full of shit."
"But baby, I'm just trying—"
"First of all, I ain’t got no Victoria’s Secret outfit shit, cause I’ll be damned if I’ll spend a whole day’s wages buying a fucking brassiere. Second, you wanna do it all night long you can damn well wait ‘til Friday, cause I got to get up and go to work in the morning."
"Ah now, shawty, I just wanna put you to bed."
"That’s another thing: I am not you or anybody else’s ‘shawty’. I am your goddamned wife, and you better treat me with some fucking respect or I ain’t gonna be much longer."
"But baby—"
"And if you want a piece of this girl you better go out and get yourself a real goddamned job and fucking earn it."
"Ah, baby—"
"Put me to bed! What am I, some goddamned invalid?"
9/21/07 #5
Huey
pop, lock & drop it
This is where I need to admit my ignorance and/or obtuseness. I understand that this is just another dumb record about guys watching women dance; and I know perfectly well why it's selling: the chorus, sung by a group of women who are as flat as they wanna be, has the irritation/attraction factor of many great pop hooks, and it's a perfect ringtone, as well. What I don't understand is why it sounds so damn ominous, why the rhythm track seems to be building up to the climax of a slasher movie. Is it Huey trying to prove how tough he is while he watches the ladies? Is it supposed to represent his sexual power and the onrush of lust he feels as he watches women pop and lock and drop? Is the slowness and the warped quality of the sound meant to suggest how stoned he is? Or is it all just a goof? This is being promoted with the typical slow motion hydraulic party in a parking lot video, but the record doesn't sound like much fun to me. It just sounds like a power trip. Am I wrong about this, or am I just another middle-aged white guy who can't figure out black culture?
5/18/07 #6
This is where I need to admit my ignorance and/or obtuseness. I understand that this is just another dumb record about guys watching women dance; and I know perfectly well why it's selling: the chorus, sung by a group of women who are as flat as they wanna be, has the irritation/attraction factor of many great pop hooks, and it's a perfect ringtone, as well. What I don't understand is why it sounds so damn ominous, why the rhythm track seems to be building up to the climax of a slasher movie. Is it Huey trying to prove how tough he is while he watches the ladies? Is it supposed to represent his sexual power and the onrush of lust he feels as he watches women pop and lock and drop? Is the slowness and the warped quality of the sound meant to suggest how stoned he is? Or is it all just a goof? This is being promoted with the typical slow motion hydraulic party in a parking lot video, but the record doesn't sound like much fun to me. It just sounds like a power trip. Am I wrong about this, or am I just another middle-aged white guy who can't figure out black culture?
5/18/07 #6
Hurricane
Chris
a bay bay
This made me laugh pretty hard the first couple of times I heard it, but it does wear thin after a while, and I can’t help suspecting that this is a celebration of making a drunken fool of yourself rather than a parody of same. Of course, stupidly celebrating themselves is what drunken fools do, and it’s possible that Hurricane Chris is more subtle in his humor than I give him credit for. He spends a little too much time playing Superpimp rather than falling down on the dance floor or dancing on the bar for my tastes, although I will admit that a Superpimp with only one lame pickup line is a pretty funny idea. That doesn’t make the music any less tiresome, though.
7/13/07 #7
This made me laugh pretty hard the first couple of times I heard it, but it does wear thin after a while, and I can’t help suspecting that this is a celebration of making a drunken fool of yourself rather than a parody of same. Of course, stupidly celebrating themselves is what drunken fools do, and it’s possible that Hurricane Chris is more subtle in his humor than I give him credit for. He spends a little too much time playing Superpimp rather than falling down on the dance floor or dancing on the bar for my tastes, although I will admit that a Superpimp with only one lame pickup line is a pretty funny idea. That doesn’t make the music any less tiresome, though.
7/13/07 #7
Alicia Keys
No One
I’ll fully admit to my bias against Keys—the singles off of Diary seemed self-satisfied and empty, and Keys’ obvious talent and musical polish only made them worse, as if she were showing off her skills as opposed to actually applying them—and though people I respect have said good things about her first album, it never made me curious enough to listen. So I was somewhat unprepared for the raw emotionalism of this record, and the sparse, daring simplicity of the sound. The ache in Keys’ voice is too calculated at times, and the middle eight is a mistake, but otherwise this is almost perfect. What makes the record for me is that blatty analog synth line, which echoes her 70s influences without groveling or self-congratulation. And when I say influences I don’t mean Stevie Wonder (though he’s obviously in there)—I mean Paul McCartney, whose carefully crafted yet rough-hewn experimental weirdness in his early solo years deserves a lot more respect than it ever gets. I guess you had to not be there to get it.
10/12/07 #2
I’ll fully admit to my bias against Keys—the singles off of Diary seemed self-satisfied and empty, and Keys’ obvious talent and musical polish only made them worse, as if she were showing off her skills as opposed to actually applying them—and though people I respect have said good things about her first album, it never made me curious enough to listen. So I was somewhat unprepared for the raw emotionalism of this record, and the sparse, daring simplicity of the sound. The ache in Keys’ voice is too calculated at times, and the middle eight is a mistake, but otherwise this is almost perfect. What makes the record for me is that blatty analog synth line, which echoes her 70s influences without groveling or self-congratulation. And when I say influences I don’t mean Stevie Wonder (though he’s obviously in there)—I mean Paul McCartney, whose carefully crafted yet rough-hewn experimental weirdness in his early solo years deserves a lot more respect than it ever gets. I guess you had to not be there to get it.
10/12/07 #2
Sean
Kingston
beautiful girls
Compared to the classic doo-wop that so many people reference when talking about this record, “Beautiful Girls” is woefully simplistic: even the most basic and untrained 50s vocal groups came up with more complicated harmonies than this. But simplicity is this record’s greatest strength, and in terms of feeling, it isn’t just comparable to classic doo wop, it is classic doo-wop. That is, it’s the sound of a young guy trying his damndest to emulate his musical heroes—in this case, apparently, Akon and T-Pain—in the same way the early doo-wop groups emulated the Mills Brothers or the Ink Spots. But because he lacks the necessary skills and experience and that smooth pop style, Kingston, like those early doo-wop groups, comes up with something totally different, something less polished, even clunky in spots, but emotionally true and more intense than the records it emulates. Kingston sings flat (and way behind the beat), the lyrics suggest a gift for fantasizing about romance unleavened by much actual experience, and not even Diddy would stoop to so obvious and unadulterated a sample as this record’s appropriation of Ben E. Kings' “Stand By Me”. None of that matters, though, because every second of this record is wonderful, from its shout-out intro that’s almost a parody of every other shout-out intro (the song starts so quickly they barely have time to work it in) to its perfect trick ending. As for the hook word, “suicidal”, which has caused so much consternation among radio programmers and MTV executives (and has also caused some people to compare this to emo, as if that made it different from any other teenage pop record), Kingston uses it exactly the same way any overly dramatic seventeen-year-old would, as a buzzword for romantic desperation, with no consideration or suggestion of what the word actually implies. Poets and singers have been metaphorically killing themselves for love for centuries—the fact that people are making a fuss about it now suggests that they’re taking pop music, or themselves, way too seriously.
8/3/2007 #1
Compared to the classic doo-wop that so many people reference when talking about this record, “Beautiful Girls” is woefully simplistic: even the most basic and untrained 50s vocal groups came up with more complicated harmonies than this. But simplicity is this record’s greatest strength, and in terms of feeling, it isn’t just comparable to classic doo wop, it is classic doo-wop. That is, it’s the sound of a young guy trying his damndest to emulate his musical heroes—in this case, apparently, Akon and T-Pain—in the same way the early doo-wop groups emulated the Mills Brothers or the Ink Spots. But because he lacks the necessary skills and experience and that smooth pop style, Kingston, like those early doo-wop groups, comes up with something totally different, something less polished, even clunky in spots, but emotionally true and more intense than the records it emulates. Kingston sings flat (and way behind the beat), the lyrics suggest a gift for fantasizing about romance unleavened by much actual experience, and not even Diddy would stoop to so obvious and unadulterated a sample as this record’s appropriation of Ben E. Kings' “Stand By Me”. None of that matters, though, because every second of this record is wonderful, from its shout-out intro that’s almost a parody of every other shout-out intro (the song starts so quickly they barely have time to work it in) to its perfect trick ending. As for the hook word, “suicidal”, which has caused so much consternation among radio programmers and MTV executives (and has also caused some people to compare this to emo, as if that made it different from any other teenage pop record), Kingston uses it exactly the same way any overly dramatic seventeen-year-old would, as a buzzword for romantic desperation, with no consideration or suggestion of what the word actually implies. Poets and singers have been metaphorically killing themselves for love for centuries—the fact that people are making a fuss about it now suggests that they’re taking pop music, or themselves, way too seriously.
8/3/2007 #1
Avril Lavigne
Girlfriend
Having watched Kelly Clarkson make hay with the style she created and then partially abandoned, Lavigne returns to her “punky roots”, as Billboard puts it, with a mishmash of “Since You Been Gone”, “Hollaback Girl”, and “Get Off Of My Cloud”. The latter, no doubt, included because a) it provides evidence of her historical depth, so to speak; b) it attracts that all important over 40—50? 60?—demographic; and c) it provides a handy readymade hook. The resulting song starts off catchy and ends a cacophonous mess as Lavigne overreaches for even more hooks, and stretches what should be a libidinous two minute blast into three and a half minutes of wasted opportunity. Will someone please remind this “punky” young lady that real punk songs usually don’t have even one bridge, much less two?
3/10/07 #1
Having watched Kelly Clarkson make hay with the style she created and then partially abandoned, Lavigne returns to her “punky roots”, as Billboard puts it, with a mishmash of “Since You Been Gone”, “Hollaback Girl”, and “Get Off Of My Cloud”. The latter, no doubt, included because a) it provides evidence of her historical depth, so to speak; b) it attracts that all important over 40—50? 60?—demographic; and c) it provides a handy readymade hook. The resulting song starts off catchy and ends a cacophonous mess as Lavigne overreaches for even more hooks, and stretches what should be a libidinous two minute blast into three and a half minutes of wasted opportunity. Will someone please remind this “punky” young lady that real punk songs usually don’t have even one bridge, much less two?
3/10/07 #1
Lil Mama
Lip Gloss
I find this record irresistible—she’s hot ‘cause she’s fly, if you know what I mean—but I also find myself wondering what it portends. Musically, it’s as modern as “Hollaback Girl” and as old-school as Run DMC; lyrically and thematically it’s as modern as “Girlfriend” and as old-school as Roxanne Shanté. So while the majority of the pop audience is picking up on “Lip Gloss” as an outrageous, hilarious novelty, I can’t help but wonder what it means as far as the future of rap is concerned. Does it indicate an old school revival, or does it, as I fear, indicate that rap is so dead that it’s beyond revival? It may mean nothing at all, and you’re more than free to ignore such questions when the record is actually playing; but I worry that we’re entering an era where childishness and mindless egotism are actually becoming the point of many records on the charts—always a danger in pop, of course, but this strikes me as worse than usual—and “Lip Gloss” may be a leading indicator.
6/22/07 #10
I find this record irresistible—she’s hot ‘cause she’s fly, if you know what I mean—but I also find myself wondering what it portends. Musically, it’s as modern as “Hollaback Girl” and as old-school as Run DMC; lyrically and thematically it’s as modern as “Girlfriend” and as old-school as Roxanne Shanté. So while the majority of the pop audience is picking up on “Lip Gloss” as an outrageous, hilarious novelty, I can’t help but wonder what it means as far as the future of rap is concerned. Does it indicate an old school revival, or does it, as I fear, indicate that rap is so dead that it’s beyond revival? It may mean nothing at all, and you’re more than free to ignore such questions when the record is actually playing; but I worry that we’re entering an era where childishness and mindless egotism are actually becoming the point of many records on the charts—always a danger in pop, of course, but this strikes me as worse than usual—and “Lip Gloss” may be a leading indicator.
6/22/07 #10
Lloyd
You
Every time I hear this record, a cynical little voice in my head starts chanting: “Spandau Ballet! Three decades! Three hits! One hook!” Then a nicer voice in my head says “Aw, give it a chance.” So I do. But, even with the presence of Lil’ Wayne, who actually credits the girl with having a brain, the cynical voice wins every time.
2/9/2007 #9
Every time I hear this record, a cynical little voice in my head starts chanting: “Spandau Ballet! Three decades! Three hits! One hook!” Then a nicer voice in my head says “Aw, give it a chance.” So I do. But, even with the presence of Lil’ Wayne, who actually credits the girl with having a brain, the cynical voice wins every time.
2/9/2007 #9
Linkin Park
Ludacris
Runaway Love
Here, finally, is the serious stuff Ludacris promised awhile back, and though, considering the subject, it might seem heartless to doubt his good intentions, I still do. If the stories Ludacris relates are as common as he suggests, then the correct reaction should be rage, not the studied, fatherly concern he engages in here. The vision he presents of the life of young girls in the midst of poverty is Dickensian in its bleakness, but there’s none of Dicken’s rage to go with it. Imagine, for a moment, a record with the force of "Get Back" directed toward this subject—it would be overwhelming. But instead of Dickensian rage we get Dickensian sentimentality, with the multi-tracked Mary J. Blige mimicking a chorus of angels on high, lamenting lost innocence. Nothing quite prepares you for the end of the song, though, when Ludacris, from his position of privilege, suggests that if all these victimized little girls just hold his hand and close their eyes and pretend it was a dream it will all be gone when they open them again. As if rappers didn’t hold out enough false hope already.
2/2/07 #2
Here, finally, is the serious stuff Ludacris promised awhile back, and though, considering the subject, it might seem heartless to doubt his good intentions, I still do. If the stories Ludacris relates are as common as he suggests, then the correct reaction should be rage, not the studied, fatherly concern he engages in here. The vision he presents of the life of young girls in the midst of poverty is Dickensian in its bleakness, but there’s none of Dicken’s rage to go with it. Imagine, for a moment, a record with the force of "Get Back" directed toward this subject—it would be overwhelming. But instead of Dickensian rage we get Dickensian sentimentality, with the multi-tracked Mary J. Blige mimicking a chorus of angels on high, lamenting lost innocence. Nothing quite prepares you for the end of the song, though, when Ludacris, from his position of privilege, suggests that if all these victimized little girls just hold his hand and close their eyes and pretend it was a dream it will all be gone when they open them again. As if rappers didn’t hold out enough false hope already.
2/2/07 #2
Maroon 5
Makes Me Wonder
I don't trust these guys. I applaud their move toward pop-funk, and the increase in tempo over the waterlogged, pseudo-sensitive mush they produced a couple of years ago, but this sounds almost as automatic and pre-programmed as the old stuff. Since they knew virtually nothing about black music until they went to college (just the sort of thing academia, or at least dorm life, is made for), their music doesn't have the lived in feel of funk at it's best. The lyrics, meanwhile, pursue a vague, are-women-really-worth-the-trouble sexism that suggests that emotionally they're still in school. More stylish than your average junior, but not quite seniors yet, and nowhere near graduation.
5/4/07 #1
I don't trust these guys. I applaud their move toward pop-funk, and the increase in tempo over the waterlogged, pseudo-sensitive mush they produced a couple of years ago, but this sounds almost as automatic and pre-programmed as the old stuff. Since they knew virtually nothing about black music until they went to college (just the sort of thing academia, or at least dorm life, is made for), their music doesn't have the lived in feel of funk at it's best. The lyrics, meanwhile, pursue a vague, are-women-really-worth-the-trouble sexism that suggests that emotionally they're still in school. More stylish than your average junior, but not quite seniors yet, and nowhere near graduation.
5/4/07 #1
Mims
This Is Why I'm Hot
Sparse 808 beats and handclaps, ghostly theremin-like synth washes, the occasional low-key orchestral hit, and the stupidest repetitive chorus since “My Humps” make this the oddest record to hit number one in a long, long time. It’s like ambient hip-hop, only sparser, and less calculated to create a mood—chances are the producers, a couple of guys from Miami who call themselves The Blackout Movement, just thought it sounded cool. The first minute and a half or so, with its parodies of regional hip-hop styles—all suggested with the most minimal possible additions to the basic arrangement—is brilliant. The rest winds down into the usual rap bragging, but like true ambient music, you don’t really need to pay attention to enjoy it. Oddest thing of all: there are thirteen people credited with writing this song. Even assuming some of those are samples (members of Run D.M.C. are included), that’s a hell of a lot of people for a record as minimal as this. Also available in a rap/metal version called “This Is Why I Rock” (credited to “Purple Popcorn featuring Mims”), if you prefer your hip-hop less ambient and more antagonistic.
3/2/07 #1
Sparse 808 beats and handclaps, ghostly theremin-like synth washes, the occasional low-key orchestral hit, and the stupidest repetitive chorus since “My Humps” make this the oddest record to hit number one in a long, long time. It’s like ambient hip-hop, only sparser, and less calculated to create a mood—chances are the producers, a couple of guys from Miami who call themselves The Blackout Movement, just thought it sounded cool. The first minute and a half or so, with its parodies of regional hip-hop styles—all suggested with the most minimal possible additions to the basic arrangement—is brilliant. The rest winds down into the usual rap bragging, but like true ambient music, you don’t really need to pay attention to enjoy it. Oddest thing of all: there are thirteen people credited with writing this song. Even assuming some of those are samples (members of Run D.M.C. are included), that’s a hell of a lot of people for a record as minimal as this. Also available in a rap/metal version called “This Is Why I Rock” (credited to “Purple Popcorn featuring Mims”), if you prefer your hip-hop less ambient and more antagonistic.
3/2/07 #1
My Chemical
Romance
Welcome To the Black Parade
It’s easy to be impressed by the grandiosity of this record, which is another way of saying that they almost get away with their pretensions—for the moment, anyway. Just wait, though. Youth and speed and inspiration count for something, but if you’re going to present yourself as the goth Green Day (with production values), and make grand announcements about life being nothing more than a long, painful march toward death, you’d better be ready with an alternative attitude once your youth and speed begin to fade (which, depending on your drug intake, could be anywhere from five to ten years, while the inspiration will have gone long before that). In other words, if they don’t come to realize soon that their dark, “realistic” attitude is as mindlessly sentimental as any happy-cheesy Hallmark card, they’re going to be boring as hell by the end of the decade. They already make me a little tired.
1/12/07 #9
It’s easy to be impressed by the grandiosity of this record, which is another way of saying that they almost get away with their pretensions—for the moment, anyway. Just wait, though. Youth and speed and inspiration count for something, but if you’re going to present yourself as the goth Green Day (with production values), and make grand announcements about life being nothing more than a long, painful march toward death, you’d better be ready with an alternative attitude once your youth and speed begin to fade (which, depending on your drug intake, could be anywhere from five to ten years, while the inspiration will have gone long before that). In other words, if they don’t come to realize soon that their dark, “realistic” attitude is as mindlessly sentimental as any happy-cheesy Hallmark card, they’re going to be boring as hell by the end of the decade. They already make me a little tired.
1/12/07 #9
Ne-Yo
Because of You
Ne-Yo deserves a lot of respect for his role in bringing back soulful, crooning R&B grooves, and perhaps even more for placing them in tighter, more traditionally song-oriented structures. I like the uptempo pace of this, the way Ne-Yo never sways from or overplays his lyrical theme, and that he doesn't feel the need to interrupt his groove with a lot of meaningless guest raps. All the same, I'm not sure this is the time for a New Jack Swing revival, and even though he bypasses Boyz II Men and draws his background vocals directly from mid-80s Michael Jackson, those harmonies aren't as surprising as they used to be (and they've gotten a lot cheesier). I'm beginning to suspect that as Ne-Yo hones his craft he's losing whatever was original and soulful about him back in the days of “So Sick”. Less Quincy Jones, please, and more Bill Withers.
5/4/07 #2
Ne-Yo deserves a lot of respect for his role in bringing back soulful, crooning R&B grooves, and perhaps even more for placing them in tighter, more traditionally song-oriented structures. I like the uptempo pace of this, the way Ne-Yo never sways from or overplays his lyrical theme, and that he doesn't feel the need to interrupt his groove with a lot of meaningless guest raps. All the same, I'm not sure this is the time for a New Jack Swing revival, and even though he bypasses Boyz II Men and draws his background vocals directly from mid-80s Michael Jackson, those harmonies aren't as surprising as they used to be (and they've gotten a lot cheesier). I'm beginning to suspect that as Ne-Yo hones his craft he's losing whatever was original and soulful about him back in the days of “So Sick”. Less Quincy Jones, please, and more Bill Withers.
5/4/07 #2
Nickelback
Rockstar
Though it’s odd to think that The Worst Band in the World has a sense of humor, there seems to be some indication of that here. But having a sense of humor doesn’t mean you’re capable of being funny, and Nickelback’s ponderous sludge sounds exactly the same whether they’re being cloyingly sentimental or just trying to crack wise. After all these years you’d think they’d have some details of their own to add to the life-of-a-superstar genre, but all they come up with is lazy clichés: big houses, cheap drugs, lot’s of women, yada yada yada. And has any rock band ever sounded more provincial? Their idea of selling out is cutting your hair and changing your name (tell that one to Bobby Zimmerman, fellas); their idea of kinky sex is the mile high club; their idea of decadent food is quesadillas—God help them if they ever find themselves in a sushi bar. The only line I can’t figure out is the one about being “in the private rooms/with the latest dictionary and today’s Who’s Who”. A dictionary? Is that so they can clumsily chat up foreign women in their own language? Or is it where they learned to rhyme “rooms” and “who”?
9/7/07 #6
Though it’s odd to think that The Worst Band in the World has a sense of humor, there seems to be some indication of that here. But having a sense of humor doesn’t mean you’re capable of being funny, and Nickelback’s ponderous sludge sounds exactly the same whether they’re being cloyingly sentimental or just trying to crack wise. After all these years you’d think they’d have some details of their own to add to the life-of-a-superstar genre, but all they come up with is lazy clichés: big houses, cheap drugs, lot’s of women, yada yada yada. And has any rock band ever sounded more provincial? Their idea of selling out is cutting your hair and changing your name (tell that one to Bobby Zimmerman, fellas); their idea of kinky sex is the mile high club; their idea of decadent food is quesadillas—God help them if they ever find themselves in a sushi bar. The only line I can’t figure out is the one about being “in the private rooms/with the latest dictionary and today’s Who’s Who”. A dictionary? Is that so they can clumsily chat up foreign women in their own language? Or is it where they learned to rhyme “rooms” and “who”?
9/7/07 #6
Pink
u + ur hand
This is essentially a comedy record fueled with righteous anger, and a good one, too. I have only three wishes. One, I wish it was funnier, which is paradoxical because if it was funnier it would probably be less angry, and if it was less angry it probably wouldn't be as funny. Two, I wish I could shake the nagging suspicion that this is selling not for its feminist rancor but because it's hooked around a good masturbation joke. Three, I wish the music was just a little more interesting, and particularly wish that the chorus didn't sound like a cross of Kelly Clarkson and Melissa Etheridge. Still, if you're going for righteous anger, there are worse models, and at least Pink has a sense of humor.
4/27/07 #9
This is essentially a comedy record fueled with righteous anger, and a good one, too. I have only three wishes. One, I wish it was funnier, which is paradoxical because if it was funnier it would probably be less angry, and if it was less angry it probably wouldn't be as funny. Two, I wish I could shake the nagging suspicion that this is selling not for its feminist rancor but because it's hooked around a good masturbation joke. Three, I wish the music was just a little more interesting, and particularly wish that the chorus didn't sound like a cross of Kelly Clarkson and Melissa Etheridge. Still, if you're going for righteous anger, there are worse models, and at least Pink has a sense of humor.
4/27/07 #9
who knew
This is as warm and heartfelt as Pink no doubt intended it to be, and its offhand quality helps cut the sentimentality. The problem is it’s a little too offhand. “Who knew?” is the sort of phrase you apply to minor disturbances in life, not death. Compared to its most obvious predecessor—the Clash’s “Stay Free”—the song seems more like a throwing up of the hands in acquiescence than the fight against fate you would expect from someone like Pink. This may be a sign of maturity and acceptance on her part, but it could also be a sign that she’s bought too willingly into some version of the serenity prayer. Me, I still get pissed when anybody under 70 passes away. Don’t people read Dylan Thomas anymore?
9/21/07 #9
This is as warm and heartfelt as Pink no doubt intended it to be, and its offhand quality helps cut the sentimentality. The problem is it’s a little too offhand. “Who knew?” is the sort of phrase you apply to minor disturbances in life, not death. Compared to its most obvious predecessor—the Clash’s “Stay Free”—the song seems more like a throwing up of the hands in acquiescence than the fight against fate you would expect from someone like Pink. This may be a sign of maturity and acceptance on her part, but it could also be a sign that she’s bought too willingly into some version of the serenity prayer. Me, I still get pissed when anybody under 70 passes away. Don’t people read Dylan Thomas anymore?
9/21/07 #9
Plain White Ts
Hey There Delilah
This is adolescent naiveté at its most rudimentary, and, when I can manage to pay attention, almost compelling in its simplistic single-mindedness. The naiveté isn’t only in the song’s age-old romantic fantasies or the basic-as-it-comes guitar strumming, but even more in the band’s choice of names for the subject of their romantic absorption. Delilah? Don’t these young punks ever read their Old Testament? That woman is poison, and once she gets out of school she’ll be even worse. Some people prefer their blindness, I guess.
6/15/07 #1
This is adolescent naiveté at its most rudimentary, and, when I can manage to pay attention, almost compelling in its simplistic single-mindedness. The naiveté isn’t only in the song’s age-old romantic fantasies or the basic-as-it-comes guitar strumming, but even more in the band’s choice of names for the subject of their romantic absorption. Delilah? Don’t these young punks ever read their Old Testament? That woman is poison, and once she gets out of school she’ll be even worse. Some people prefer their blindness, I guess.
6/15/07 #1
Plies
shawty (featuring T-Pain)
The choruses here are so rushed (sped up?) that you can’t help but wonder if T-Pain is trying to get the damn thing over as quickly as possible, and who can blame him? Plies serves up nothing but the same old gangsta sexual-dominance-as-romance-bullshit, and T-Pain’s presence lends it a lover man sheen—kind of like an oil slick—that only makes it worse. Is it possible he’s dropped to an even lower moral plane than Akon?
8/17/2007 #9
The choruses here are so rushed (sped up?) that you can’t help but wonder if T-Pain is trying to get the damn thing over as quickly as possible, and who can blame him? Plies serves up nothing but the same old gangsta sexual-dominance-as-romance-bullshit, and T-Pain’s presence lends it a lover man sheen—kind of like an oil slick—that only makes it worse. Is it possible he’s dropped to an even lower moral plane than Akon?
8/17/2007 #9
Rich Boy
Throw Some D's (featuring Polow Da Don)
An ironic lover man intro leads into one of the best, catchiest rap choruses so far this year, and then, sure as you’re born, here comes all the usual rap bragging and sexism. “Every freak should have a picture of my dick (on their wall)”. Uh-huh. Before he becomes a porn pin-up, though, Rich Boy would like all you ladies to know that he just bought a “Cadilick”. Whether that’s just weird phrasing or an intentionally revolting pun I have no idea, but it’s almost enough to make me wish that chorus wasn’t so catchy. Recommended alternative: the bizarre remix and video by Kanye West, in which the song is turned into a protest of breast augmentation surgery while Alicia Keyes—pristine, unaugmented, and beatified—ascends to heaven.
3/23/07 #6
An ironic lover man intro leads into one of the best, catchiest rap choruses so far this year, and then, sure as you’re born, here comes all the usual rap bragging and sexism. “Every freak should have a picture of my dick (on their wall)”. Uh-huh. Before he becomes a porn pin-up, though, Rich Boy would like all you ladies to know that he just bought a “Cadilick”. Whether that’s just weird phrasing or an intentionally revolting pun I have no idea, but it’s almost enough to make me wish that chorus wasn’t so catchy. Recommended alternative: the bizarre remix and video by Kanye West, in which the song is turned into a protest of breast augmentation surgery while Alicia Keyes—pristine, unaugmented, and beatified—ascends to heaven.
3/23/07 #6
Rihanna
Break It Off (featuring Sean Paul)
Intended, I imagine, as a dancehall version of “Hips Don’t Lie”, this is as venally calculated a pop record as you’ll ever hear. It’s also, despite the credit, more Sean Paul’s than Rihanna’s. Out of deference, perhaps, to her star billing, he makes his raps even more incomprehensible than usual. Except, that is, for the chorus, when Rihanna asks if she can be his “shawty”: “Definitely!” he shouts blankly, as if reading from a carefully prepared script of meaningless interjections. Every chorus he comes up with a different canned response, making the record sound even more mechanical. Rihanna, meanwhile, being a good sport, or perhaps blinded by the fame that has already come her way, does whatever Sean Paul’s producer, Don Corleon, tells her to, and demonstrates even less personality than usual.
3/2/07 #10
Intended, I imagine, as a dancehall version of “Hips Don’t Lie”, this is as venally calculated a pop record as you’ll ever hear. It’s also, despite the credit, more Sean Paul’s than Rihanna’s. Out of deference, perhaps, to her star billing, he makes his raps even more incomprehensible than usual. Except, that is, for the chorus, when Rihanna asks if she can be his “shawty”: “Definitely!” he shouts blankly, as if reading from a carefully prepared script of meaningless interjections. Every chorus he comes up with a different canned response, making the record sound even more mechanical. Rihanna, meanwhile, being a good sport, or perhaps blinded by the fame that has already come her way, does whatever Sean Paul’s producer, Don Corleon, tells her to, and demonstrates even less personality than usual.
3/2/07 #10
umbrella
With producer Tricky conjuring up a near–apocalyptic deluge in the background—sounds like she’ll need a lot more than an umbrella—this is easily the best record Rihanna has made, even with Jay-Z throwing in his two cents. What I can’t help wondering, though: considering how different she sounds from record to record, is Rihanna really that talented, or only that pliable? Each of her records has been shaped in every way, including vocally, by her producers, and I find it impossible to detect anything that could be considered an actual personality. This might well make her a perfect pop star, and as long as she works with producers on the level of Tricky, may not be an issue. The question is, was Tricky her idea, or Jay-Z’s? In pop music, personality matters; people like to know who they’re dealing with.
6/1/07 #1
With producer Tricky conjuring up a near–apocalyptic deluge in the background—sounds like she’ll need a lot more than an umbrella—this is easily the best record Rihanna has made, even with Jay-Z throwing in his two cents. What I can’t help wondering, though: considering how different she sounds from record to record, is Rihanna really that talented, or only that pliable? Each of her records has been shaped in every way, including vocally, by her producers, and I find it impossible to detect anything that could be considered an actual personality. This might well make her a perfect pop star, and as long as she works with producers on the level of Tricky, may not be an issue. The question is, was Tricky her idea, or Jay-Z’s? In pop music, personality matters; people like to know who they’re dealing with.
6/1/07 #1
Hate That I Love You (featuring Ne-Yo)
I’m still not sure Ne-Yo is the genius some take him for, but he sure can cut a groove, and this is easily the best thing he’s done since "So Sick". Romance fueled music that doesn’t move at a snail's pace or come to a dead stop for extended vocal pyrotechnics (this keeps the pyrotechnics short and sharp) is a rare thing, and the fact that Ne-Yo ups the emotional tension by building his best grooves around a sense of melancholy is an added bonus. As for Rihanna, she’ll never top "Umbrella", but this is a far better attempt than "Shut Up and Drive".
10/26/07 #9
I’m still not sure Ne-Yo is the genius some take him for, but he sure can cut a groove, and this is easily the best thing he’s done since "So Sick". Romance fueled music that doesn’t move at a snail's pace or come to a dead stop for extended vocal pyrotechnics (this keeps the pyrotechnics short and sharp) is a rare thing, and the fact that Ne-Yo ups the emotional tension by building his best grooves around a sense of melancholy is an added bonus. As for Rihanna, she’ll never top "Umbrella", but this is a far better attempt than "Shut Up and Drive".
10/26/07 #9
Da Shop
Boyz
Party Like A Rock Star
If there has to be such a thing as ringtone rap, please make it more like this. The chorus is bouncy and silly enough, as is the insane metal guitar posturing, but the raps themselves, for a change, are the real attraction. Da Shop Boyz play golf with the Osbournes, stage dive into the (white?) crowd in the hope that someone will catch them, and shout “Cowabunga!” when they succeed (I’m sorry, did I hear you right—“Cowabunga”?). Racial mixing and racial harmony are, in fact, a big part of this record, or as they put it, “Do it with the black and white like a cop car”. Think of it as the oughts’ vice-versa version of “Play That Funky Music (White Boy)”, only totally funnier, dude.
6/1/07 #2
If there has to be such a thing as ringtone rap, please make it more like this. The chorus is bouncy and silly enough, as is the insane metal guitar posturing, but the raps themselves, for a change, are the real attraction. Da Shop Boyz play golf with the Osbournes, stage dive into the (white?) crowd in the hope that someone will catch them, and shout “Cowabunga!” when they succeed (I’m sorry, did I hear you right—“Cowabunga”?). Racial mixing and racial harmony are, in fact, a big part of this record, or as they put it, “Do it with the black and white like a cop car”. Think of it as the oughts’ vice-versa version of “Play That Funky Music (White Boy)”, only totally funnier, dude.
6/1/07 #2
Soulja Boy
Jordin Sparks
Tattoo
The Play-era Moby-like background is as safe and retro as you’d expect, but for a first time out of the nest American Idol winner, this is far better than anticipated. It helps that Sparks, even though she’s only 17, sounds as if she understands the song’s no regrets/animosity break-up theme better than most singers with another decade on them. Unlike Underwood and Clarkson (not to mention Hicks) she doesn’t sound as if she’s straining vocally to sound older, or more knowing, or tougher than she is. And that Moby-like intro, retro or not, sounds pretty damn good.
12/14/07 #8
The Play-era Moby-like background is as safe and retro as you’d expect, but for a first time out of the nest American Idol winner, this is far better than anticipated. It helps that Sparks, even though she’s only 17, sounds as if she understands the song’s no regrets/animosity break-up theme better than most singers with another decade on them. Unlike Underwood and Clarkson (not to mention Hicks) she doesn’t sound as if she’s straining vocally to sound older, or more knowing, or tougher than she is. And that Moby-like intro, retro or not, sounds pretty damn good.
12/14/07 #8
Britney
Spears
Gimme More
For those who feel any sympathy at all for Spears, or who are sensitive to this sort of self-destructiveness on anyone’s part, "Gimme More" is a terrifying record, an apparent invitation on the part of Spears to all the world to come and stare, violate, and tear her apart. With the aid of God knows how many filters, the timbre of her voice shifts constantly, from the now infamous intro to moments of surprisingly airy grace, each shift bringing a new mood into play, each mood the opposite of the one that came before: now happy, now sad, now sexy and alluring, now defiant and devious, now peaceful, now violent, each apparently oblivious to what came before—the aural equivalent of borderline personality disorder (the album is called Blackout—are any other hints necessary?). We’re used to the idea of "artists" expressing their inner demons in their work, but "pop stars" are supposed to be above (or beneath) that sort of thing (and what a mindfuck would it be if music critics suddenly had to think of Spears as an "artist"?). Of course, Michael Jackson did much the same thing nearly 20 years ago. On Dangerous, before the public’s amusement with his eccentricities turned into disgust at his predilections, he presented us with a vivid encapsulation of a personality warm and inviting on the outside and cold and horrifying on the inside (if you don’t believe me, take a close look at the cover art—or consider the even earlier "Thriller" video). No one paid attention at the time, and even though Spear’s collapse is frighteningly public, no one seems to get the point of this record, either. There is nothing, of course, that we can do about Spear’s situation, but all of those out there in the business of rating her records and her videos with the usual "not bad" or "what a mess" should at least admit what it is they’re dealing with.
10/5/07 #3
For those who feel any sympathy at all for Spears, or who are sensitive to this sort of self-destructiveness on anyone’s part, "Gimme More" is a terrifying record, an apparent invitation on the part of Spears to all the world to come and stare, violate, and tear her apart. With the aid of God knows how many filters, the timbre of her voice shifts constantly, from the now infamous intro to moments of surprisingly airy grace, each shift bringing a new mood into play, each mood the opposite of the one that came before: now happy, now sad, now sexy and alluring, now defiant and devious, now peaceful, now violent, each apparently oblivious to what came before—the aural equivalent of borderline personality disorder (the album is called Blackout—are any other hints necessary?). We’re used to the idea of "artists" expressing their inner demons in their work, but "pop stars" are supposed to be above (or beneath) that sort of thing (and what a mindfuck would it be if music critics suddenly had to think of Spears as an "artist"?). Of course, Michael Jackson did much the same thing nearly 20 years ago. On Dangerous, before the public’s amusement with his eccentricities turned into disgust at his predilections, he presented us with a vivid encapsulation of a personality warm and inviting on the outside and cold and horrifying on the inside (if you don’t believe me, take a close look at the cover art—or consider the even earlier "Thriller" video). No one paid attention at the time, and even though Spear’s collapse is frighteningly public, no one seems to get the point of this record, either. There is nothing, of course, that we can do about Spear’s situation, but all of those out there in the business of rating her records and her videos with the usual "not bad" or "what a mess" should at least admit what it is they’re dealing with.
10/5/07 #3
Gwen Stefani
The Sweet Escape
Having run out of inspiration and/or campy showtunes to sample, Gwen Stefani decides to indulge her Madonna fixation with a piece of generic, modern girl group pop. It doesn’t really sound all that much like “Cherish” or “True Blue”, but the intent and the influence are obvious. That wouldn't be a problem if Stefani hadn't come close to redefining girl group pop herself a couple of years ago with “Hollaback Girl”. It still might not be a problem if she hadn't gone all the way back to pre-Madonna girl group pop for her theme: Sorry I was such a bitch; I’ll do anything to get you back, honey. It’s catchy, but then all girl group pop is catchy, even the generic stuff.
2/2/07 #2
Having run out of inspiration and/or campy showtunes to sample, Gwen Stefani decides to indulge her Madonna fixation with a piece of generic, modern girl group pop. It doesn’t really sound all that much like “Cherish” or “True Blue”, but the intent and the influence are obvious. That wouldn't be a problem if Stefani hadn't come close to redefining girl group pop herself a couple of years ago with “Hollaback Girl”. It still might not be a problem if she hadn't gone all the way back to pre-Madonna girl group pop for her theme: Sorry I was such a bitch; I’ll do anything to get you back, honey. It’s catchy, but then all girl group pop is catchy, even the generic stuff.
2/2/07 #2
T.I.
Big Things Poppin'
Since this is half the good T.I., and half the bad T.I.P., should we just call it mediocre and have done with it? The split personality gambit might be effective if either one did more than rehash ideas that T.I. has already run through several times on his own and other people’s records. His flow is as sharp as ever, but other than namechecking his entire family and threatening to make you piss your pants, he still doesn’t have all that much to say (neither does his b-boy, who must get tired of shouting “OK!” all the time), and the music doesn’t fill in enough of the gaps.
7/13/07 #9
Since this is half the good T.I., and half the bad T.I.P., should we just call it mediocre and have done with it? The split personality gambit might be effective if either one did more than rehash ideas that T.I. has already run through several times on his own and other people’s records. His flow is as sharp as ever, but other than namechecking his entire family and threatening to make you piss your pants, he still doesn’t have all that much to say (neither does his b-boy, who must get tired of shouting “OK!” all the time), and the music doesn’t fill in enough of the gaps.
7/13/07 #9
Timbaland
give it to me (featuring Nelly Furtado and Justin Timberlake)
In which the triumvirate that has been ruling the charts for the last six months (barring brief incursions by Beyonce and Akon), brag about their prowess in a track that may be even sexier than anything they've done up until now. With lyrics that are more about bragging than sex itself, the music is free to get really dirty. The intro, which sounds like a field recording, is particularly revealing. That's Timbaland's great talent, after all, the ability to create modern recordings that sounds as otherworldly and intensely human as the music that comes from the fields or the streets. It's not only all pop, it's all folk, too.
4/13/07 #1
In which the triumvirate that has been ruling the charts for the last six months (barring brief incursions by Beyonce and Akon), brag about their prowess in a track that may be even sexier than anything they've done up until now. With lyrics that are more about bragging than sex itself, the music is free to get really dirty. The intro, which sounds like a field recording, is particularly revealing. That's Timbaland's great talent, after all, the ability to create modern recordings that sounds as otherworldly and intensely human as the music that comes from the fields or the streets. It's not only all pop, it's all folk, too.
4/13/07 #1
the way I are (featuring Keri Hilson and D.O.E.)
The reiteration (or regurgitation, depending on how you look at it) of riffs and samples from "Sexyback" and "My Love" may, as some have suggested, mean that Timbaland has run out of ideas or is engaging in a shameless cash-in; it may also mean that, like many great musicians before him, he's hit upon a groove so universal and true he could ride its subtle variations for the rest of his career. That doesn’t completely rule out the first two options, but it does mean he’s on to something, no matter how cynically you might want to approach this record. What I find interesting is that not only is this a groove he could ride all the way to the bank, it’s also a groove he could easily stretch far beyond normal pop lengths, but chooses not to. At just under three minutes, this is shorter than the current pop average by nearly a minute and a half. That’s at least partly because Timbaland sticks close to traditional song structure (verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, with an unsung return to the chorus at the fade), says his piece, and gets out. But the brevity just makes you want more and entices you to play it again—and again. Which does, I suppose, make it a shameless cash-in; though I have no idea why anyone should be ashamed of creating such a perfectly crafted piece of pop.
7/6/2007 #3
The reiteration (or regurgitation, depending on how you look at it) of riffs and samples from "Sexyback" and "My Love" may, as some have suggested, mean that Timbaland has run out of ideas or is engaging in a shameless cash-in; it may also mean that, like many great musicians before him, he's hit upon a groove so universal and true he could ride its subtle variations for the rest of his career. That doesn’t completely rule out the first two options, but it does mean he’s on to something, no matter how cynically you might want to approach this record. What I find interesting is that not only is this a groove he could ride all the way to the bank, it’s also a groove he could easily stretch far beyond normal pop lengths, but chooses not to. At just under three minutes, this is shorter than the current pop average by nearly a minute and a half. That’s at least partly because Timbaland sticks close to traditional song structure (verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, with an unsung return to the chorus at the fade), says his piece, and gets out. But the brevity just makes you want more and entices you to play it again—and again. Which does, I suppose, make it a shameless cash-in; though I have no idea why anyone should be ashamed of creating such a perfectly crafted piece of pop.
7/6/2007 #3
Apologize (featuring OneRepublic)
Timbaland is a genius, but even geniuses get overworked, overextended, overconfident, and overexposed. Following on Fabolous’ "Better" and 50 Cents’ "Ayo Technology", this is his third clunker in a row, and this time he has no one to blame but himself. Trouble is, after producing at least ten top ten records in the last year, he’s not likely to take a break now. He sure could use one, though: the best beats and the best singers in the world couldn’t save pathos this thick, and "Apologize" has neither.
10/5/07 #2
Timbaland is a genius, but even geniuses get overworked, overextended, overconfident, and overexposed. Following on Fabolous’ "Better" and 50 Cents’ "Ayo Technology", this is his third clunker in a row, and this time he has no one to blame but himself. Trouble is, after producing at least ten top ten records in the last year, he’s not likely to take a break now. He sure could use one, though: the best beats and the best singers in the world couldn’t save pathos this thick, and "Apologize" has neither.
10/5/07 #2
Justin Timberlake
What Goes Around…Comes Around
Though it’s easy to see this as a message to you-know-who, especially on the LP version’s coda, which gets a lot nastier than the radio edit ever does, Timberlake is too much of a pop pro to indulge in that sort of thing. Besides, the lyrics are so generic it’s hard to believe he thought about them for more than five minutes before jotting them down. Every pop album needs a look-how-bad-your-life-is-without-me-song, and this is JT’s. It’s less eccentric than his last two singles, and though I’m impressed by the structure, and that coda, lyrically it’s as weak as all his other stuff is. Maybe he should have Timbaland write the words, too.
2/2/07 #1
Though it’s easy to see this as a message to you-know-who, especially on the LP version’s coda, which gets a lot nastier than the radio edit ever does, Timberlake is too much of a pop pro to indulge in that sort of thing. Besides, the lyrics are so generic it’s hard to believe he thought about them for more than five minutes before jotting them down. Every pop album needs a look-how-bad-your-life-is-without-me-song, and this is JT’s. It’s less eccentric than his last two singles, and though I’m impressed by the structure, and that coda, lyrically it’s as weak as all his other stuff is. Maybe he should have Timbaland write the words, too.
2/2/07 #1
Summer Love
For fourth single barrel scraping, not bad, but those of you who are already tired of hearing me complain about Timberlake’s lyrics might want to stop reading now, while you have the chance. It’s not that Timberlake’s lyrics aren’t well crafted—they go so perfectly with the music that for the most part you barely notice them—or even that they’re banal. It’s that they’re so romantically woozy, as if Timberlake had determined to dig up the most abject sentimental fallacies of the mid-fifties and bring them back to life. That he does so without sounding like a total twerp is to his, and Timbaland’s, credit. But I’m beginning to think of Timberlake as a moderately gifted singer with surprisingly good taste who has latched on to a truly bad idea and decided to run with it. How far he can go, and how bad the idea truly is only time, or his next album, will tell.
5/25/07 #6
For fourth single barrel scraping, not bad, but those of you who are already tired of hearing me complain about Timberlake’s lyrics might want to stop reading now, while you have the chance. It’s not that Timberlake’s lyrics aren’t well crafted—they go so perfectly with the music that for the most part you barely notice them—or even that they’re banal. It’s that they’re so romantically woozy, as if Timberlake had determined to dig up the most abject sentimental fallacies of the mid-fifties and bring them back to life. That he does so without sounding like a total twerp is to his, and Timbaland’s, credit. But I’m beginning to think of Timberlake as a moderately gifted singer with surprisingly good taste who has latched on to a truly bad idea and decided to run with it. How far he can go, and how bad the idea truly is only time, or his next album, will tell.
5/25/07 #6
T-Pain
Buy u a Drank (shawty snappin') (featuring Yung Joc)
In a small step up the seductionary ladder, T-Pain applies his vocoder distorted pick-up lines to an ordinary woman in a singles bar, rather than a stripper on a pole. He still needs to get her drunk to get her in his Cadillac, but at least he's buying. Just to maintain his crunk credentials while playing the loverman, he references both Lil Jon and Unk (or is that Thunk? Dunk? Bunk?), but leaves the sexual athleticism to Yung Joc, who obviously prefers women with long legs (he barely touches her and she's kicking the chandelier). T-Pain also mentions his own name a lot—is he afraid she'll mistake him for Akon? Almost charming, in it's own one-track-mind kind of way.
4/13/07 #1
In a small step up the seductionary ladder, T-Pain applies his vocoder distorted pick-up lines to an ordinary woman in a singles bar, rather than a stripper on a pole. He still needs to get her drunk to get her in his Cadillac, but at least he's buying. Just to maintain his crunk credentials while playing the loverman, he references both Lil Jon and Unk (or is that Thunk? Dunk? Bunk?), but leaves the sexual athleticism to Yung Joc, who obviously prefers women with long legs (he barely touches her and she's kicking the chandelier). T-Pain also mentions his own name a lot—is he afraid she'll mistake him for Akon? Almost charming, in it's own one-track-mind kind of way.
4/13/07 #1
Bartender (featuring Akon)
On first hearing, I thought this was a great comedy record about a guy who’s such a drunken loser he becomes convinced that the bartender’s in love with him—the perfect follow-up to “Buy U A Drank”. Closer inspection, however, reveals that T-Pain actually scores, which sort of ruins the effect, although the lines about getting drunk and thinking he’s cool make it a lot more honest than most in-the-club monologues. Still not much of a record, though Akon wins big points for turning his chart success into a sexual metaphor—one that uses Billboard Magazine, of all things, as a double entendre: “Put you on my Billboard/We can act like the charts/I can end up on top”. In Akon’s universe, that almost qualifies as true wit.
7/13/07 #5
On first hearing, I thought this was a great comedy record about a guy who’s such a drunken loser he becomes convinced that the bartender’s in love with him—the perfect follow-up to “Buy U A Drank”. Closer inspection, however, reveals that T-Pain actually scores, which sort of ruins the effect, although the lines about getting drunk and thinking he’s cool make it a lot more honest than most in-the-club monologues. Still not much of a record, though Akon wins big points for turning his chart success into a sexual metaphor—one that uses Billboard Magazine, of all things, as a double entendre: “Put you on my Billboard/We can act like the charts/I can end up on top”. In Akon’s universe, that almost qualifies as true wit.
7/13/07 #5
Carrie Underwood
I'll Stand By You
As easy as it is to appreciate the song choice, and the simple, touching arrangement, it's not so easy to appreciate the singer. The word “callow” keeps running through my head, but that's too strong. In a way, Underwood sings the song as well as it can be sung, but there's a real lack of maturity here, a lack of experience and understanding. Like too many of her American Idol colleagues, you can feel the strain, the intense need to be technically perfect above all else. It sounds like the kind of performance you'd get from a particularly gifted 17-year-old, as if the song had somehow found it's way onto the soundtrack of High School Musical. Underwood means well, and this was probably recorded too quickly, before she had a chance to get a real feel for the song, but that doesn't change the fact that “I'll Stand By You” is far beyond her.
5/4/07 #6
As easy as it is to appreciate the song choice, and the simple, touching arrangement, it's not so easy to appreciate the singer. The word “callow” keeps running through my head, but that's too strong. In a way, Underwood sings the song as well as it can be sung, but there's a real lack of maturity here, a lack of experience and understanding. Like too many of her American Idol colleagues, you can feel the strain, the intense need to be technically perfect above all else. It sounds like the kind of performance you'd get from a particularly gifted 17-year-old, as if the song had somehow found it's way onto the soundtrack of High School Musical. Underwood means well, and this was probably recorded too quickly, before she had a chance to get a real feel for the song, but that doesn't change the fact that “I'll Stand By You” is far beyond her.
5/4/07 #6
Before He Cheats
For the moment, we’ll ignore the phenomenon of this record spending close to 14 months on first the country charts and then the Hot 100 and only now making the top ten, and consider the song itself. An obvious descendent of the now non-country Dixie Chicks’ “Goodbye Earl”, this, unlike that somewhat politicized fantasy, is a little closer to most women’s reality. It’s also more ambiguous. The cruel, abusive Earl had it coming, but with no background story it’s harder to justify “Cheats’” automotive carnage. There’s no doubt the guy’s a jerk, but his comeuppance may be less a demonstration of the level of his iniquities and more of, if I can dare to use such a weighted word, the woman’s hysteria. If this is a representative example of her behavior, I’m not surprised he’s looking for something a little more relaxing on the side. To Underwood, of course, this is just another song—a way of covering all the country-pop bases. Her first post-American Idol single, “Jesus Take the Wheel”, was about a more humble woman handing her problems over to God rather than whacking them with a baseball bat; her latest, “Wasted”, splits the difference between the two extremes. I imagine even Underwood is surprised by the way this record has taken off and kept flying over the last year. But if she is surprised, she shouldn’t be. “Before He Cheats” is just the most noticeable of a wave of singles over the last two years that have presented women standing up to men in a way that is more than just defiant, but also demanding and determined: “Irreplaceable”, “Girlfriend”, Miranda Lambert’s “Kerosene”, “U + Ur Hand”, most of Kelly Clarkson’s and Ciara’s singles, even “My Humps” and Fergie’s solo records. This could, I suppose, just be pop music finally catching up with certain post-feminist (or would that be pre-neofeminist?) trends, but coinciding as it does with the recent calls for cleaning up sexism in rap lyrics, it may also be the start of something completely different—as it’s bound to be, since pop always works a sea change on any philosophical or artistic movement it finally decides to embrace. As a pop record, “Before He Cheats” is a good piece of humorous, honky-tonk edged rabble-rousing. As a pop phenomenon, it’s something far beyond that, and something that deserves close attention.
5/25/07 #8
For the moment, we’ll ignore the phenomenon of this record spending close to 14 months on first the country charts and then the Hot 100 and only now making the top ten, and consider the song itself. An obvious descendent of the now non-country Dixie Chicks’ “Goodbye Earl”, this, unlike that somewhat politicized fantasy, is a little closer to most women’s reality. It’s also more ambiguous. The cruel, abusive Earl had it coming, but with no background story it’s harder to justify “Cheats’” automotive carnage. There’s no doubt the guy’s a jerk, but his comeuppance may be less a demonstration of the level of his iniquities and more of, if I can dare to use such a weighted word, the woman’s hysteria. If this is a representative example of her behavior, I’m not surprised he’s looking for something a little more relaxing on the side. To Underwood, of course, this is just another song—a way of covering all the country-pop bases. Her first post-American Idol single, “Jesus Take the Wheel”, was about a more humble woman handing her problems over to God rather than whacking them with a baseball bat; her latest, “Wasted”, splits the difference between the two extremes. I imagine even Underwood is surprised by the way this record has taken off and kept flying over the last year. But if she is surprised, she shouldn’t be. “Before He Cheats” is just the most noticeable of a wave of singles over the last two years that have presented women standing up to men in a way that is more than just defiant, but also demanding and determined: “Irreplaceable”, “Girlfriend”, Miranda Lambert’s “Kerosene”, “U + Ur Hand”, most of Kelly Clarkson’s and Ciara’s singles, even “My Humps” and Fergie’s solo records. This could, I suppose, just be pop music finally catching up with certain post-feminist (or would that be pre-neofeminist?) trends, but coinciding as it does with the recent calls for cleaning up sexism in rap lyrics, it may also be the start of something completely different—as it’s bound to be, since pop always works a sea change on any philosophical or artistic movement it finally decides to embrace. As a pop record, “Before He Cheats” is a good piece of humorous, honky-tonk edged rabble-rousing. As a pop phenomenon, it’s something far beyond that, and something that deserves close attention.
5/25/07 #8
Unk
Walk It Out
I’m starting to think of this particular strain of crunk as a modern version of all those twist records from the early 60s—each one a subtle, or not so subtle, variation of the same song. That’s not meant as an insult. It’s not a bad song, and each version manages to recreate at least some of the original’s charm, whatever its name was. Since it’s just for dancing, anyway, what difference does it make if they all sound the same? Harmless fun, and utterly forgettable. When the next version pops up in a few months time, you’ll swear it reminds you of something you heard before, but I bet you still won’t be able to remember this guy’s name. It’s Unk, by the way. Unk as in crunk, if that helps any.
2/9/07 #10
I’m starting to think of this particular strain of crunk as a modern version of all those twist records from the early 60s—each one a subtle, or not so subtle, variation of the same song. That’s not meant as an insult. It’s not a bad song, and each version manages to recreate at least some of the original’s charm, whatever its name was. Since it’s just for dancing, anyway, what difference does it make if they all sound the same? Harmless fun, and utterly forgettable. When the next version pops up in a few months time, you’ll swear it reminds you of something you heard before, but I bet you still won’t be able to remember this guy’s name. It’s Unk, by the way. Unk as in crunk, if that helps any.
2/9/07 #10
Kanye West
Stronger
Like so many Kanye West tracks, this one wraps an undeniable hook (courtesy of Daft Punk) in some of the most fascinating wordplay any rapper has ever come up with. West doesn’t depend on tricks like hyperspeed or mind-numbing alliteration or endless off-rhymes (though going from “on ya” to “Apollonia” to “Isotoner” is both impressive and funny, not to mention tasteless) for his effects. He turns his raps on the meaning of words, not just on their sound, digging deep into the language itself. The themes on this track seem to change with every noun, or at least every noun that comes at the end of a line. First it’s about sex, then his career, then his fans, then sex, then other rappers, then sex, then fortitude, then his musical talents, then sex, and so on, swirling around the various implications of “stronger” from brain power to will power to his erection. By the end he’s exhausted the formulation so completely that he just lets the track keep playing, luxuriating in that hook and leaving you to ponder the implications. Word is that there are only a handful of guest rappers on the upcoming Graduation; if “Stronger”, and the earlier “Can’t Tell Me Nothin’” are any indication, West doesn’t need them.
8/10/2007 #1
Like so many Kanye West tracks, this one wraps an undeniable hook (courtesy of Daft Punk) in some of the most fascinating wordplay any rapper has ever come up with. West doesn’t depend on tricks like hyperspeed or mind-numbing alliteration or endless off-rhymes (though going from “on ya” to “Apollonia” to “Isotoner” is both impressive and funny, not to mention tasteless) for his effects. He turns his raps on the meaning of words, not just on their sound, digging deep into the language itself. The themes on this track seem to change with every noun, or at least every noun that comes at the end of a line. First it’s about sex, then his career, then his fans, then sex, then other rappers, then sex, then fortitude, then his musical talents, then sex, and so on, swirling around the various implications of “stronger” from brain power to will power to his erection. By the end he’s exhausted the formulation so completely that he just lets the track keep playing, luxuriating in that hook and leaving you to ponder the implications. Word is that there are only a handful of guest rappers on the upcoming Graduation; if “Stronger”, and the earlier “Can’t Tell Me Nothin’” are any indication, West doesn’t need them.
8/10/2007 #1
Good Life (featuring T-Pain)
Radio ups as good as this are so rare that I’m willing to excuse the presence of the overexposed T-Pain, who, thank goodness, is less vocodered than usual. He also gets to deliver the song’s funniest line: “Now my grandmamma ain’t the only girl who’s calling me baby.” Like all the songs on Graduation, this sounds a little rough around the edges, too busy yet unfinished, but it’s so joyous it could be a Beach Boys record, and Kanye deserves credit for celebrating his wealth without stooping to the “Look at me now, bitches” school of rap. Sounds like a great party, too.
10/12/07 #7
Radio ups as good as this are so rare that I’m willing to excuse the presence of the overexposed T-Pain, who, thank goodness, is less vocodered than usual. He also gets to deliver the song’s funniest line: “Now my grandmamma ain’t the only girl who’s calling me baby.” Like all the songs on Graduation, this sounds a little rough around the edges, too busy yet unfinished, but it’s so joyous it could be a Beach Boys record, and Kanye deserves credit for celebrating his wealth without stooping to the “Look at me now, bitches” school of rap. Sounds like a great party, too.
10/12/07 #7
Amy Winehouse
rehab
With her jazz background providing both absolute vocal control and absolute self-confidence, Winehouse makes most of the pop divas on the chart complaining about their men sound like so many whiny little children. Not that Winehouse isn’t complaining—buried under the overly dense arrangement is the story of a woman who has drunken herself into a stupor over the loss of her man, and whose only solace is classic R&B—but she sounds a hell of a lot more mature about it. Vocally, Winehouse one-ups the small-voiced little Arethas (or are they Mariahs?) crowding the charts by reaching a couple of decades further back, to Billie Holiday and Dinah Washington. At the same time, she modernizes her heroines with hip-hop rhythms and a Stax-inspired horn section. I’m not sure the mix works, and sometimes Winehouse’s vocal confidence slips over into self-love, but it sure sounds different from anything else out there, and if we are going to have a soul revival we may as well go all the way. You suppose we could get Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings on the charts?
With her jazz background providing both absolute vocal control and absolute self-confidence, Winehouse makes most of the pop divas on the chart complaining about their men sound like so many whiny little children. Not that Winehouse isn’t complaining—buried under the overly dense arrangement is the story of a woman who has drunken herself into a stupor over the loss of her man, and whose only solace is classic R&B—but she sounds a hell of a lot more mature about it. Vocally, Winehouse one-ups the small-voiced little Arethas (or are they Mariahs?) crowding the charts by reaching a couple of decades further back, to Billie Holiday and Dinah Washington. At the same time, she modernizes her heroines with hip-hop rhythms and a Stax-inspired horn section. I’m not sure the mix works, and sometimes Winehouse’s vocal confidence slips over into self-love, but it sure sounds different from anything else out there, and if we are going to have a soul revival we may as well go all the way. You suppose we could get Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings on the charts?
Update: That's what I get for not checking credits. Turns out it is the Dap Kings on this record. Can't believe no one gave me grief for that. So, half way there, anyway.
6/15/07 #9
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all contents copywrite 2007 robert myers
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