Tracks
Fat Joe f/ R.Kelly, Lil' Wayne, Birdman, T.I., Ace Mack & Rick Ross/Ciara f/ R.Kelly/Young Jeezy f/ R. Kelly: "Make It Rain (Remix)/Promise (Remix)/Go Getta"
(2007/2007/2006)
By Kevin Yuen | 29 January 2008
Ladies and gentlemen of the court of public opinion,
This man very well may be guilty (of whatever he's charged with; I've already forgotten for what). It's not up to me to decide. Hell, the way things are going, nobody will decide ("R. Kelly Hospitalized, Will Miss Court Date," Vibe.com). But this man, this somewhat tragic, sometimes masked wonder, manages to squirm out of situations with the tenacity of Bo and Luke Duke, with accompanying Waylon Jennings-ish self narration no doubt. Sure he supposedly married a 15-year-old Aaliyah -- but he wrote "The World's Greatest"! "I Believe I Can Fly"! "Ignition (Remix)"! Child pornography charges? The Chicagoan's captured our hearts, from adult contemporary stations to Hotlanta clubs to ironic/unironic hipster discussions about "Trapped in the Closet" at the UCB Theatre. His crossover appeal is astounding, and he has really become a pop culture icon through the backdoor, with fairly little fanfare. He's the Backdoor Bandit: He's had albums with Jay-Z, sung a duet with Celine Dion, and been parodied prominently in humongous shows such as South Park and Chappelle's Show. But when people talk about the greatest male R&B talents of the past twenty years (and do they!), R. Kelly's name gets stuck between the old class (Luther Vandross, Babyface) and the new class (Omarion, Chris Brown). He sneaks into the limelight, often times through penning hits for the likes of Michael Jackson, Nick Cannon or offering guest vocals with someone like Nas and Biggie (or the recently overlooked "That's That" with Snoop), and then disappears just as magically, laying dormant until the next opportunity to amaze.
But recently he's snuck out again. Appendicitis, appendi-schmitis! Sure that'll get you out of court dates, but not even an exploding internal organ can stop Kelly's fluttering tenor. Blessing the bouncy remix of Fat Joe's "Make it Rain," Kelly is the only guest vocalist that isn't from the South, shamelessly proclaiming, "I be drilling these chicks like Major Payne / When I make it rain / They be like, 'Do it again'." Hm, we're still talking about throwing large stacks of dollar bills into the air, right? The rest of the cast definitely improves on the ode to the South, thankfully shoving Fat Joe to bat in the pitcher's spot (if there were seven batters per team), but it's Kelly's verse and his crooning over the chorus that makes it sublimely karaoke-worthy.
Over Ciara's wishy-washy "Promise," Kells sounds at home so much that you forget he wasn't on the original song. His vocal ebb and flow complements Ciara so well, he melds into the song seamlessly -- like a chameleon. A chameleon with appendicitis. His soft approach contrasts with his unironic claims that he'll "hit it like it's your birthday." Blissful.
On "Go Getta," Kells aggressively wails and chants over a thunderous beat (didn't Alchemist flip that shit already?), setting up the metaphorical pins for Young Jeezy to bowl over with his squealing accounts of his awesome life as a coke dealer. Oh yes, "coke dealer." Turn that song up to 10 in the next room. Now go fold some clothes or something, and listen casually. Don't think you're fooling anyone, Kells, it totally sounds like "Coke Dealer." Damned Def Jam.
It's uncommon for a black celebrity to be bulletproof to the media, but while R. Kelly has sang his way into our souls, he's flown low to the ground somehow, staying out of the mainstream's focus for better and worse. He hasn't really garnered the props he so deserves, but his image hasn't taken the drubbing you'd think it would have. In this case, it may be the black media that is the most scrutinizing. Says Chris Rock: "He's got a lot of balls. Talkin' bout 'It ain't me.' Got a damn sex tape out. 'It ain't me.' Motherfucker, we know what you look like! That's you, OK? There's a damn Soul Train award right next to the bed!"
On a totally unrelated note, I can't wait for "To Catch a Predator" to go to Chicago.
This man very well may be guilty (of whatever he's charged with; I've already forgotten for what). It's not up to me to decide. Hell, the way things are going, nobody will decide ("R. Kelly Hospitalized, Will Miss Court Date," Vibe.com). But this man, this somewhat tragic, sometimes masked wonder, manages to squirm out of situations with the tenacity of Bo and Luke Duke, with accompanying Waylon Jennings-ish self narration no doubt. Sure he supposedly married a 15-year-old Aaliyah -- but he wrote "The World's Greatest"! "I Believe I Can Fly"! "Ignition (Remix)"! Child pornography charges? The Chicagoan's captured our hearts, from adult contemporary stations to Hotlanta clubs to ironic/unironic hipster discussions about "Trapped in the Closet" at the UCB Theatre. His crossover appeal is astounding, and he has really become a pop culture icon through the backdoor, with fairly little fanfare. He's the Backdoor Bandit: He's had albums with Jay-Z, sung a duet with Celine Dion, and been parodied prominently in humongous shows such as South Park and Chappelle's Show. But when people talk about the greatest male R&B talents of the past twenty years (and do they!), R. Kelly's name gets stuck between the old class (Luther Vandross, Babyface) and the new class (Omarion, Chris Brown). He sneaks into the limelight, often times through penning hits for the likes of Michael Jackson, Nick Cannon or offering guest vocals with someone like Nas and Biggie (or the recently overlooked "That's That" with Snoop), and then disappears just as magically, laying dormant until the next opportunity to amaze.
But recently he's snuck out again. Appendicitis, appendi-schmitis! Sure that'll get you out of court dates, but not even an exploding internal organ can stop Kelly's fluttering tenor. Blessing the bouncy remix of Fat Joe's "Make it Rain," Kelly is the only guest vocalist that isn't from the South, shamelessly proclaiming, "I be drilling these chicks like Major Payne / When I make it rain / They be like, 'Do it again'." Hm, we're still talking about throwing large stacks of dollar bills into the air, right? The rest of the cast definitely improves on the ode to the South, thankfully shoving Fat Joe to bat in the pitcher's spot (if there were seven batters per team), but it's Kelly's verse and his crooning over the chorus that makes it sublimely karaoke-worthy.
Over Ciara's wishy-washy "Promise," Kells sounds at home so much that you forget he wasn't on the original song. His vocal ebb and flow complements Ciara so well, he melds into the song seamlessly -- like a chameleon. A chameleon with appendicitis. His soft approach contrasts with his unironic claims that he'll "hit it like it's your birthday." Blissful.
On "Go Getta," Kells aggressively wails and chants over a thunderous beat (didn't Alchemist flip that shit already?), setting up the metaphorical pins for Young Jeezy to bowl over with his squealing accounts of his awesome life as a coke dealer. Oh yes, "coke dealer." Turn that song up to 10 in the next room. Now go fold some clothes or something, and listen casually. Don't think you're fooling anyone, Kells, it totally sounds like "Coke Dealer." Damned Def Jam.
It's uncommon for a black celebrity to be bulletproof to the media, but while R. Kelly has sang his way into our souls, he's flown low to the ground somehow, staying out of the mainstream's focus for better and worse. He hasn't really garnered the props he so deserves, but his image hasn't taken the drubbing you'd think it would have. In this case, it may be the black media that is the most scrutinizing. Says Chris Rock: "He's got a lot of balls. Talkin' bout 'It ain't me.' Got a damn sex tape out. 'It ain't me.' Motherfucker, we know what you look like! That's you, OK? There's a damn Soul Train award right next to the bed!"
On a totally unrelated note, I can't wait for "To Catch a Predator" to go to Chicago.