It’s Chris Brown’s turn, but who wants to listen?
In a blind taste test, contemporary R&B fans would probably groove in blissful ignorance to several of the songs on the new album “Graffiti.’’
The insistence of the fuzzy synths and hard angled beats of “Wait’’ only require a dance floor for full realization. “Crawl,’’ a paean to restoring lost love, soars in its wistful chorus as the singer hits a high note of despair, leavened with unfounded optimism for “one more chance/ we can still have it all.’’ The ballad “So Cold’’ manages to ache and bounce simultaneously as the singer offers apologies in an instantly hummable curlicue of a melody.
But life is not a blind taste test, and once listeners learn that the voice behind those songs belongs to Chris Brown, who pleaded guilty in June to a felonious assault on then-girlfriend Rihanna, many might just change their tune.
In the wake of the bloody police photos, the horrifying descriptions, and Rihanna’s own hard-shelled expressions of regret, terror, and anger on her recent album “Rated R’’ and its promotional tour, it’s unlikely that anyone wants to hear Brown apologize. Or seek solace. Or worse, try to shovel some of the blame for his atrocious behavior back in her direction, as he does on “Famous Girl,’’ implying that she was unfaithful (as was he) and had a temper of her own.
How fair is it to judge Brown’s music on his offstage actions? Given the public’s capacity to separate the art from the artist when said artist has committed a different kind of crime (all those drug dealers-turned-rappers come to mind) or even the same crime (some domestic violence perpetrators apparently get a pass for genius), it’s an interesting question. And some people simply don’t care.
Since Brown traffics in the kind of frivolous urban pop that sticks with you only as long as the time it takes to dance to it in the season it’s popular, it’s easy to understand the but-it’s-a-great-song argument. But that only gets you so far when what feels good on the surface gets discomfiting as you dig deeper.
The 20-year-old, who plays the House of Blues tonight, opens himself up to analysis, however, on “Graffiti’’ by singing so many songs - a handful great, the rest less so - that seem to reference the relationship. As co-writer of 12 of the 13 tracks, that’s where he sabotages a lot of the album’s purely musical promise.
No matter how catchy a tune is, it’s difficult to feel comfortable enjoying Brown croon on “So Cold,’’ “Tell her I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, can you forgive me, please forgive me, come back home, keep me safe and warm,’’ when that was precisely what he didn’t do for the woman in his life. The “heavy is the head’’ laments can also be tough to swallow, as on the otherwise appealing “Lucky Me,’’ in which he sings, “Even though I’m so damaged/ gotta pick myself up and perform for the crowd.’’
Even more unfathomable is that no one in this young man’s life - a producer, his mother, an anger management counselor - apparently advised him to reconsider certain lyrical decisions. Whether or not these songs are autobiographical, it is ill-advised that not once, but twice, Brown references Keri Hilson’s song “Knock You Down.’’
As an exercise in image control, “Graffiti’’ is a failure. If a handful of the songs were judged solely on their merit they would be huge hits, especially the keening “Crawl.’’ Others would not. No violent backstory is necessary to render the junior R. Kelly sex stuff and braggadocio on songs like “Sing Like Me’’ and “Take My Time’’ skeevy, not to mention plodding.
Brown could have simply made an album of club jams. But his decision to share his side of the story is also what perversely makes the eruptions of hurt, anger, and desperation interesting, if not necessarily contenders for repeat listening. Whether it’s a consequence of willfulness, cultural tone-deafness, or “artistic’’ need, Brown has to know that these songs will not make him popular with those who’ve already chosen to hate the sinner along with the sin. They could also potentially turn off those willing to give him a second professional chance.
That could be a huge mistake. But maybe Brown, who also sings, “Now I’m thankful for everything/ And I’m finally becoming a man,’’ figured that at this point he has little to lose in the court of public opinion so he might as well say what he wants to. Obviously, just as Rihanna did on “Rated R,’’ Brown should be allowed to express himself and examine his own demons, but he also has to understand that members of his audience may no longer be up for hearing it.
The insistence of the fuzzy synths and hard angled beats of “Wait’’ only require a dance floor for full realization. “Crawl,’’ a paean to restoring lost love, soars in its wistful chorus as the singer hits a high note of despair, leavened with unfounded optimism for “one more chance/ we can still have it all.’’ The ballad “So Cold’’ manages to ache and bounce simultaneously as the singer offers apologies in an instantly hummable curlicue of a melody.
But life is not a blind taste test, and once listeners learn that the voice behind those songs belongs to Chris Brown, who pleaded guilty in June to a felonious assault on then-girlfriend Rihanna, many might just change their tune.
In the wake of the bloody police photos, the horrifying descriptions, and Rihanna’s own hard-shelled expressions of regret, terror, and anger on her recent album “Rated R’’ and its promotional tour, it’s unlikely that anyone wants to hear Brown apologize. Or seek solace. Or worse, try to shovel some of the blame for his atrocious behavior back in her direction, as he does on “Famous Girl,’’ implying that she was unfaithful (as was he) and had a temper of her own.
How fair is it to judge Brown’s music on his offstage actions? Given the public’s capacity to separate the art from the artist when said artist has committed a different kind of crime (all those drug dealers-turned-rappers come to mind) or even the same crime (some domestic violence perpetrators apparently get a pass for genius), it’s an interesting question. And some people simply don’t care.
Since Brown traffics in the kind of frivolous urban pop that sticks with you only as long as the time it takes to dance to it in the season it’s popular, it’s easy to understand the but-it’s-a-great-song argument. But that only gets you so far when what feels good on the surface gets discomfiting as you dig deeper.
The 20-year-old, who plays the House of Blues tonight, opens himself up to analysis, however, on “Graffiti’’ by singing so many songs - a handful great, the rest less so - that seem to reference the relationship. As co-writer of 12 of the 13 tracks, that’s where he sabotages a lot of the album’s purely musical promise.
No matter how catchy a tune is, it’s difficult to feel comfortable enjoying Brown croon on “So Cold,’’ “Tell her I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, can you forgive me, please forgive me, come back home, keep me safe and warm,’’ when that was precisely what he didn’t do for the woman in his life. The “heavy is the head’’ laments can also be tough to swallow, as on the otherwise appealing “Lucky Me,’’ in which he sings, “Even though I’m so damaged/ gotta pick myself up and perform for the crowd.’’
Even more unfathomable is that no one in this young man’s life - a producer, his mother, an anger management counselor - apparently advised him to reconsider certain lyrical decisions. Whether or not these songs are autobiographical, it is ill-advised that not once, but twice, Brown references Keri Hilson’s song “Knock You Down.’’
As an exercise in image control, “Graffiti’’ is a failure. If a handful of the songs were judged solely on their merit they would be huge hits, especially the keening “Crawl.’’ Others would not. No violent backstory is necessary to render the junior R. Kelly sex stuff and braggadocio on songs like “Sing Like Me’’ and “Take My Time’’ skeevy, not to mention plodding.
Brown could have simply made an album of club jams. But his decision to share his side of the story is also what perversely makes the eruptions of hurt, anger, and desperation interesting, if not necessarily contenders for repeat listening. Whether it’s a consequence of willfulness, cultural tone-deafness, or “artistic’’ need, Brown has to know that these songs will not make him popular with those who’ve already chosen to hate the sinner along with the sin. They could also potentially turn off those willing to give him a second professional chance.
That could be a huge mistake. But maybe Brown, who also sings, “Now I’m thankful for everything/ And I’m finally becoming a man,’’ figured that at this point he has little to lose in the court of public opinion so he might as well say what he wants to. Obviously, just as Rihanna did on “Rated R,’’ Brown should be allowed to express himself and examine his own demons, but he also has to understand that members of his audience may no longer be up for hearing it.
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