I've steadily been listening to "Spell My Name" since its release, and it *Chrisette Michele voice* came to me...like an epiphany...that it holds some crucial keys for artists. No, that wasn't a Krucial Brothers/Alicia Keys joke.
 
In the latter half of 2020, Toni Braxton released her tenth studio album, Spell My Name. Though its performance on Billboard’s R&B charts was relatively acceptable (including singles), it didn’t gain much steam overall. Moreover, it didn’t earn any RIAA certifications. It’s a shame the record didn’t have more ears on it. Not only was it of great quality, it presented solutions to a problem many artists encounter.
 
The longer an artist is around, it can become challenging to keep things fresh. There’s a tendency to respond to this by working in extremes. Attempts to be overwhelmingly contemporary and sit at the ‘cool kid’s table’ usually come off as contrived. Shifts in tone are frequently too hard and fast, leading to calls for a return to the old guard. Conversely, sticking to their own status quo garners audience complaints of creative rigidity and datedness. Landing sweetly between the two antipodes is a delicate balancing act. Spell My Name should be considered a blueprint of how to master it.
 
For starters, Braxton doesn’t shy away from her position as an established artist over the age of 50. She doesn’t treat this as something to be ashamed of or camouflaged with Gen Z-targeted gimmicks. Case in point, the title track is about entertaining the affections of a much younger man, and wondering if he can rise to her occasion (i.e. The burgeoning Johnny Yukon, who lent both his vocals and pen to the cut). Further, the demand to map out her name by the letter isn’t just sexual innuendo; it’s a subliminal reminder that she is indeed music royalty. When she activates the lingo and brio of recent eras, it’s in a playful and deliberately campy manner (ex. Repeatedly saying “check it” on “Fallin’,”and over-pronouncing her R’s on “O.V.E.Rr”). She doesn’t try to convince the listener that she’s 'hip.' 

To modernize their sound or vie for commerciality, acts will often have a surplus of album features with the latest 'it' people. It isn't important how seemingly random or ill-fitting the pairing is, and how it might ultimately affect the project. Collaborations should be complimenting and/or elevating, but that isn’t always prioritized. 

Album Review.
Favorites: Brutal, 1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back, Deja Vu, Jealousy, Jealousy
Overall: Quintessential pop-rock that offers two inadvertent lessons about life stages and younger artists
 
I remember reading a review dismissing Destiny’s Child’s The Writing’s on the Wall (1999) for being 'teenagerish.' The members of the group were around 18 at the time. Critics applied similar adjectives to Taylor Swift’s early work, who was also a minor when her career started. One of the consistent hypocrisies of the music industry and its realm is regularly shelling out and fixating on adolescent talent, but then lambasting them for speaking from their point of view. Should the artists try to appear or sound more mature, they’ll be accused of being obnoxious, contrived, or inappropriate (this is especially true for girls and young women). Ageist perspectives would swear that these kinds of acts don’t bring much to the table. Moreover, the idealism and sensitivity they tend to have is often perceived as a melodramatic liability. In actuality, it can be an asset.
 
Young singer-songwriters frequently express themselves in an intensely visceral way that seasoned artists are sometimes too calculated to still possess. The best and brightest capture the emotional climate of their station with trenchant poignancy, relatability, and endearing tenderness. Freshly 18, Disney affiliate Olivia Rodrigo joins this fold with her debut, Sour.
 
There’s no shame in Rodrigo’s angst game, as she comes out swinging with the guitar slamming “Brutal.” It’s not even a full three minutes, but it aptly summarizes the common plagues of adolescence (and the early 20’s, haha). She sings of how anxiety, insecurity, stifling expectations, and not being accepted have robbed her of what’s typically deemed 'the golden years.' This is a central theme on the album, second to inaugural heartbreak that’s exacerbated by infidelity suspicions. With co-writers Daniel Nigro, Annie Clark, and Casey Smith, Rodrigo notes how romantic loss often comes with conflicting feelings. For instance, hits “Driver’s License” and “Good 4 U” communicate that abandonment triggers both sadness and fury. The latter sparks pleasant memories of Alanis Morisette’s ‘woman scorned’ anthem, “U Oughta Know,” haha. Across “Enough for You” and “1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back,” she reckons with the unhealthy amount of self sacrifice and compromise she endured in her relationship. She sings of shape-shifting around the ever-changing moods and needs of her gaslighting lover, who never saw her as fit. Despite acknowledging the mistreatment, she still hopes she achieved a level of fondness and favor in her ex’s eyes (ex. “Happier”). To a degree, she canonizes the affair (ex. “Favorite Crime).
 
Earlier on the album with “Deja Vu,” she diminishes facets of the dynamic that were supposedly special. She suggests they were just wooing tactics her former beau would take to any woman. Sidebar: I enjoy songs that address the rebarbative human tendency to ‘copy and paste’ with relationships. Folks will post like crazy about 'the love of their life' on social media as if they didn’t do that months ago with another person, but I majorly digress, haha. Rodrigo closing her saga with cuts like “Happier” and “Favorite Crime,” infer a regression in mindset. Perhaps this is commentary on the hold of manipulative mates, or the mental seesaw in the aftermath of a split.
 
“Hope Ur Ok” is the only number to separate from Sour’s narratives, being about old [presumably LGBT] friends who she wishes is surviving and thriving in the face of bigotry.

Album Review & Commentary.
Overall: Slinky R&B rhythms work to cover up questionable messaging and poor content quality.
 
Ariana Grande’s last two albums, Sweetener and Thank U, Next, came on the heels of personal hardships for the singer. Apple Music noted this in a summary for the newest Positions (Deluxe) stating that the release is “lighthearted and playful” in comparison. Evidently, the assigned reviewer wasn’t paying close attention. Underneath an attractive sound is an LP that is bleak artistically and in its messaging.
 
Historically, the lyrical offerings on Grande’s projects aren’t very adroit. They are generally passable at best. However, if there’s been any improvement, Positions is grossly regressive. The content has little to no intellectual or emotional worth; it doesn’t come off like it’s been crafted by highly paid songwriters who are in touch with their feelings. Scribing alongside Grande is Tommy Brown, Victoria Monet, Tayla Parx, and others. The vocabulary is narrow, and apparently, it’s a requirement to have an onslaught of unnecessary expletives. Metaphors and analogies are facile, with no attempt to be particularly clever, funny, insightful, and/or poetic. Sometimes the material is convoluted, mashing different topics together without transitions or connectors. Themes of passion, desire, and romantic trepidation are expressed in an insufferably juvenile way. The voicing is like that of an 18-year-old who thinks they’re so wise and cultivated because they’ve been dating someone for a year and are sexually active. “Six Thirty” plays like the aftermath of a teen pairing’s squabble. “What you gonna do when I’m bored and wanna play video games at 2AM?” is a measuring inquiry. “My Hair” is literally about toying with her tresses. It’s used as a manifestation of intimacy. Lunacy.
 
While Positions isn’t totally without a story direction, it’s so-called ‘happy ending’ and resolve is contradictory and questionable. Listeners are taken through the process of leaving a relationship hurt, and then falling for someone new. There are claims of having self awareness and clarity (ex. “Magic,” “Motive,” “Love Language”), but immature and unhealthy approaches are enacted and/or continued. Despite Grande (or the record’s protagonist) admitting that she hasn’t healed from previous experiences, she presses on with her amorous endeavors (ex. “Off the Table”). The headiness of infatuation and satisfying sex feed immediate thoughts of ‘ever after.’ It’s love at first sight and screw (ex. “Nasty,” “Obvious”).

Ideal love is defined by being the instant remedy to all of each other’s problems and wounds. In the least, provide a long-term ‘feel good’ distraction. Basically, avoiding the responsibility of inner work and giving your prospective partner a job only therapists can perform. The insecurity and codependency that comes with this type of cycle is patent. There’s an abundance of lines where Grande’s ‘auditioning,’ as I call it. She’s eager to demonstrate that she can conform to and meet the needs of her lover, and is the model mate (ex. “Positions,” “West Side”). All of the aforementioned matters culminate in “POV,” which is the closer on the standard edition of the album. Grande sings about having such a lack of self trust and esteem, that she has to rely on the worshipping regard of her significant other to feel valuable. The track is supposed to be sweet and point to a positive conclusion, but really, it’s kind of dismal and sad. To quote RuPaul, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you going to love somebody else; can I get an ‘Amen’?”

​Album Review.
Favorites: So Bad, Gold
Overall: A seductive musical narrative that's actually R&B, and not diet hip-hop.
 
The amount of unsung and/or underrated music acts is so innumerable, there’s a whole television series dedicated to profiling them. If an artist doesn’t have a proper time in the sun, it’s usually for one of three causes. One, they sabotaged themselves. Two, their professional team stifled them, or three, audiences were indifferent toward them for some reason. For Joanna “JoJo” Levesque, it was option two.
 
If you’re not already familiar, JoJo rose to fame at age 13, being known as “the little white girl with a big, soulful voice.” She was steered into the pop market, and hits like “Leave (Get Out)” and “Too Little, Too Late” helped her become the youngest solo act to top the Billboard Hot 100. The attention lead to film opportunities, which her recording label reportedly wasn’t thrilled about. This was just the beginning of her troubles with Blackground Records. As the company folded, JoJo found herself locked into a contract and unable to release material. A decade would pass before she could let anything out commercially, losing critical years. Aside from die-hard fans, listeners who knew her had the impression she left the industry. Fresh ones couldn’t discover her because her work wasn’t available on streaming platforms (she re-recorded songs to get around this). She eventually signed with Atlantic Records, but her time with them was brief, as she desired more "ownership." After developing her own imprint, Clover Music, she ultimately took her business to Warner.
 
Promotional single “Joanna” arrived with a visual in October 2019. In it, JoJo sings from the perspective of critics and disgruntled long-term fans. People bum rush past her, trying to get to a glitzy star in a limo. She concludes with “You were supposed to be somebody, you were supposed to make more money, make us proud...nobody likes you in Massachusetts, you should just hurry and drop your new shit,” wearing a sly grin. She was putting followers on notice that she wasn’t giving up and she’d be making her third major attempt at standing in the sun.
 
JoJo’s stepped out with Good to Know (stylized as good to know), which chronicles her seesaw between maladaptive coping behaviors and those that are constructive. She and the production team did an excellent job personifying the misleading and insidious lure of vices. Lido, Doc McKinney, Noise Club, and others gave sound to self-destruction masked with pleasure and hedonism from moment one. Opener “So Bad” has seductive, yet equally ominous energy. On the infidelity tune, a muffled fluttering piano rises to a dramatic radiating bass, layered with yowling synths and womanly moans. JoJo herself convincingly plays two parts. In the chorus, she's a confident mistress who’s thrilled by hiding in plain sight. In the verses, she emits desperation and insatiability. She pleads for more attention, and is adamant she’s the best option for her pursuit. 

​Album Review.
Overall: Not a promising sign that depth and variation in subject matter and musical style is on the way.
 
Burgeoning artists wait with bated breath for their 'breakout' year, and that was 2019 for Houston rapper Megan Thee Stallion. People were taken with the tenacious confidence that fueled her fiery, unabashedly sexual, and often amusing rhymes. She especially found favor with some for talking about men in the same dismissive manner women are discussed in hip-hop/rap. Her energy is intriguingly equal parts commanding and congenial, drawing listeners further in. Her likability factor is the kind that easily spurs viral hashtags and challenges on social media (ex. #HotGirlSummer and the current #SavageChallenge).
 
That isn’t to say her metal doesn’t need polishing though. Some followers desired to hear vulnerability; a request Megan repeatedly vowed to fulfill with her upcoming debut album (as of now, there are only mixtapes and EPs). A creative weakness that I’ve observed is topical and musical redundancy. There’s a lot riding on a first LP for any artist, much less one with a preliminary mainstream fan-base that has expectations.
 
To hold eager and inquiring minds over, Megan released Suga, yet another EP. It’s also a presumed retort against 1501 Certified Entertainment, a label she’s in a dispute with. It consists of songs she recorded while working on the album. It’s named after one of her three ‘alter-egos.’ On wax, there’s no discernible difference between the ‘personalities.’ This makes the mention of them useless and annoying, but that’s a rant for another day.
 
If the Suga EP is an appetizer, the main course of a full length project may only be mildly satisfying. Lyrically, Megan mostly sticks to what’s made her popular so far. She tries to respond to pleas for depth and content diversity, but just goes slightly beneath the surface. You get the sense that she’s not totally comfortable with it yet. The unconvincing and awkward “What I Need” is proof of that. It’s no wonder it was shoved to the end of the tracklist, as it contradicts Megan’s detached attitude about romantic relationships on previous songs. Further, it’s conceding and self-deprecating. She begs for the forgiveness of a love interest, and frames herself as erratic and emotionally unstable.

Album Review.
Overall: 'Run of the mill' contemporary album; Bieber's hiatus didn't cultivate artistic growth
 
Justin Bieber’s released his first full-length album in almost five years, and called it Changes. Between the time gap and title, one might expect thoughtful lyrics and indications of artistic growth. Perhaps something stylistically different or musically experimental would be in store. Not for Bieber. For him, it’s business as usual.
 
All is more or less the same in every area. To start with the subject matter, it treks the familiar path of eager lust and love. Any mentions of life transitions are vague or spurious. For instance, he professes “...I'm going through changes; don’t mean that I'll change” on the namesake track, but there’s no clarity on what adjustments he’s experiencing. Further, how they’re impeding his efforts  to be the “best” he can for his partner.
 
On the opening “All Around Me,” he sings the following about a mate: “Never thought I could ever be loyal to someone other than myself, I never thought I could ever be a spoiler, guess anything is possible with your help, anything’s possible since you made my heart melt.” These lines are supposed to be romantic and demonstrate his personal development, but they do the opposite. Instead of taking responsibility for his lack of integrity in previous relationships, he insinuates the cause of his behavior was a woman failing to be 'the right one'. This is obnoxious, and certainly doesn’t signify maturation.
 
The conceptual issues aside, a few numbers are written on an intermediate level. Others are more on the juvenile side (ex. “Intentions”). Several of Bieber’s co-scribes also have production credits, including The Audibles team, HARV, Joshua Gudwin, and Sasha Sirota. His go-to guy, Jason “Poo Bear” Boyd, leads.
 
The rhythms of contemporary R&B/hip hop rule the album. The latter 30% shoots for sentimentality with plenty of acoustic guitars and sappy content. Both portions suffer from repetition. While a handful of cuts are moderately appetizing, there’s too much similarity between them. Additionally, there’s little musicality. The instrumentation and arrangements are sparing. All this causes the record to feel lengthy, when it’s only 51 minutes.
 
Vocally, it seems Bieber hasn’t continued to perfect his skills. You can’t hear any enrichment, and his falsetto sounds weak. His performance on the LP is without character and emotion.
 
The deficiencies of Changes make it 'run of the mill'. Coming from a popular act after half a decade, shouldn't it be more than that?

Album Review.
Likes: Lose You to Love Me, Crowded Room, Cut You Off
Overall: More authentic than Revival. Solid lyrical content. A minimalist musical approach done right.
 
Selena Gomez declared a Revival four years ago with her last album, but it was premature. The material denoted someone in the thickety-thick-thick of despondency, rather than on the other side of it. Its coarse language and sexual themes were so contrived, it was evident Gomez was still grasping her identity and womanhood.
 
The new Rare more authentically presents Gomez as self-aware and revivified. Conceptually, it’s a cautionary tale about the hazards of unhealthy interpersonal relationships (ex. “Lose You to Love Me”) and forgetting your worth (ex. The title track). It also candidly relays that recovering and learning from past experiences is as complex as having them in the first place. Among the challenges are facing individual accountability (ex. “Look at Her Now”), disenchantment (ex. “People You Know”), trying to maintain emotional availability (ex. “Vulnerable”), and relapsing into bad habits and patterns (ex. “Fun”). Ordinarily, these subjects would be discussed in an impassive, detached, unimaginative, crude and/or tasteless way. 'Vapid and vulgar' is the standard for much of today’s popular music. Apparently, Gomez and her co-writers understood that true commitment to their narrative meant actually being creative and impassioned. The list of lyricists include Julia Michaels, Justin Tranter (both worked on Revival), Bebe Rexha, Nolan Lambroza, Caroline Ailin, Chloe Angelides and Scott Harris Friedman. Despite there being over 30 contributors in total, Rare’s content is very cohesive. Femme fatale tune “Ring” is the only song that seems off-topic.
 
The musical approach is also consistent, though there are far fewer producers than songwriters. Teams Mattman & Robin and The Monsters were on the boards, along with Sir Nolan, Simon Says, Bart Schoudel, Ben Rice, Alex Hope and several others. Minimalism with tracks, arrangements, and the like is one way to exude sensitivity and spotlight vocals, but it’s not foolproof. Possible consequences are being unattractive, boring or rudimentary. Gomez’s team avoided these downfalls by building ambiance and referencing various genres outside of pop.
 
What the layers of instruments and effects lacked in number, they made up for in presence. The resounding quality allows for focused listening, where you can clearly hear every item and word. There’s a sonic intimacy, reminiscent of a live acoustic set in close quarters. This, with all the deep-tones and style variations, creates drama and holds attention. Synths—pianos, guitars and bass—dominate. “Let Me Get Me” stands out with its suggestions of Latin. “Kinda Crazy” is kinda funky, with its groovy guitars and jazzy horns. “Crowded Room” phones R&B, and “Cut You Off” sings the blues in its breakdown. “Cut’s” deliberate irony in having a cozy feel with ‘kiss off’ lyrics is amusing. I so enjoy songs like that; it’s why I fell in love with Beyoncé’s “Irreplaceable.” This foursome of tracks is in the latter half of the LP. There, fans will find a heavier dose of what they’re used to hearing from Gomez: catchy and flirtatious ditties.
 
Vocally, there are no changes to report. Gomez’s finite and breathy pipes shine most on smoky cuts like “Crazy.”
 
Sexy, heart-tugging and well-executed, Rare has you wanting to know more about Selena Gomez’s professed ‘rise from the ashes.’ It's also not a bad musical start to 2020.

Album Review by Eddie J., Contributing Writer
 
Likes: Cruel Summer, Death By A Thousand Cuts, False God, You Need to Calm Down
Dislikes: Cornelia Street, Me!, The Man
Overall: Overwhelmingly bright and 80's reminiscent; a somewhat disjointed album with enjoyable (though not infectious) pop tracks and ballads
 
Taylor Swift's new album Lover indicates a shift in her vantage point from her last release Reputation, which was notably scathing towards past boyfriends, her former label Big Machine Records, and the Kim-Ye phone-gate scandal. Joyful staccato chords rhythmically ring from a grand piano in Lover's opener "I Forgot That You Existed," as Swift sets the tone singing, "How many days did I spend thinking 'bout how you did me wrong?" The bubbly mid-tempo song resolves with, "It isn't love, it isn't hate, it's just indifference." If Reputation was the pain Swift endured for a night, Lover is her joy that came in the morning. While this kind of 'shift' isn't a new phenomena with artists, it's always gratifying for the listener if it's done properly (e.g. Marvin Gaye's political What's Going On? was followed by the sensual Let's Get It On). The record's theme is one of varying degrees of love:  platonic, familial, self, and of course, romantic (which is in the driver's seat majority of the time).
 
Musically, the bulk of Lover can be described as 'summertime in the 80's,' with synths, percussive bass lines, and major chords galore. Swift's predilection for this nostalgic sound works for her here, just as it did on 1989. It separates her from the current trend of blending pop with trap hip-hop (something she flirted with on Reputation), and it reintroduces her extensive use of an acoustic guitar. She doesn't deliver an over-saturation of cliché commercial ditties, as the album's singles and her previous history would suggest, however. "Death By A Thousand Cuts" is probably the most experimental track, merging classical choral arrangements with folksy acoustic guitars, and arpeggiating harps. All evolve verse to verse, while Taylor holds the fort vocally and lyrically. "False God" casually mixes a jazzy sax riff with mid-tempo electro elements and sparse synthesizers, as if the combination is commonplace. "Soon You'll Get Better," featuring background harmonies by The Dixie Chicks, is a stripped-bare country ballad, with only guitars, banjos and vocals. It's the most personal cut, depicting Swift's emotional state during her mother's battle with cancer. The album as a whole effortlessly changes tempo and musical trajectory through each number, giving the perception that it's shorter than the overwhelming 18 tracks it contains. In addition, many of the songs are around three minutes in length and don't drag on longer than necessary (aside from “Cornelia Street”). This works in the LP's favor, as the compositions are largely straightforward loops that can get very redundant after awhile. 
 
As to be expected, Swift's lyricism is exceptional. Her colorful and imagery-laden illustrations are conflated with her emotions in each song, such as being "drunk in the back of the car," while crying "like a baby"  to reflect her desperation in "Cruel Summer." Nothing is poorly written outside of "Me!," even if the music or melodies don't hold the rest up, like in "The Man." There's not a lot of new ground covered topically, so it stands out when Swift leans towards social or controversial subjects, which seems to be her intention. The concept of "False God" is one of her most daring. Lines like "Religion's in your lips; even if it's a false god, we'd still worship," are sure to rile up Bible Belt Swifties. Resounding excerpts like the harmonized "Shade never made anybody less gay!" on "You Need To Calm Down," and "I'd get there quicker if I was a man" on "The Man" shine a light onto Swift's sociopolitical views and values. The overstated-ness in the content is an exclamation; Swift made sure not to clamor with any figurative language, so that her points are crystal clear. 
 
There aren't many drawbacks to Lover, but the few flaws are blatant. The lack of pop potency is chief among them. Swift showed with 1989 and Reputation that she was capable of creating infectious pop, and crafting a highly cohesive concept album. 1989 had quite a bit of filler, but the songs that weren't (i.e. "Style," "Shake It Off," and "Bad Blood") attached themselves to your subconscious mind after one listen. Reputation had the same contagious quality and conceived a dark, stirring ambiance (ex. "Look What You Made Me Do," "Gorgeous," "End Game"). Lover has a couple of songs that can get stuck in your head, but only after several listens. The wonder of a Taylor Swift pop album is how she brilliantly pairs relatable and clever lyricism with catchy melodies, and has a full-fledged production team to complete the package. With this project, the wonder is replaced with a formulaic approach. Swift's musicality is very particular and arguably limited, so her work will seem "run of the mill" when both infectiousness and an intriguing concept are missing.

​Album Review.
Likes: A No No, The Distance, Portrait
Dislikes: One Mo' Gen
Overall: An atypical MC album; passively executed with lukewarm appeal
 
In the 2010’s, it’s been relatively easy to identify quality or top-tier albums in pop and R&B. They are few and far between, as the proverbial bar has lowered over the years. The sound production is frequently skimpy, wearyingly redundant, and without musicality. Lyrics are egregiously mindless, tacky and casual. Cohesion and consistency are almost nonexistent. The talent is so underdeveloped and ill-fostered, they don’t have the skills to compensate for the other shortcomings. In the end, all you have are records that consist of filler and "cute for the moment" tunes with no enduring power.

​An artist of Mariah Carey’s caliber and experience has enough tools in the box to avoid such potholes. Her writing has always been clever and/or poetic, and required a dictionary (she rarely receives proper credit for this). Her sensibilities with vocal and musical composition keep her work effortlessly timeless and irresistible. That said, it’s confounding that Carey’s newest album Caution fits snugly with post-2010 mediocrity. Romantic desire and lust (with a pinch of disgruntlement) are primary subjects, but the slipshod track order constipates the flow of the content and sound. It prevents a feel for theme, especially one worthy of the LP’s provocative title.
 
Additionally, the most marketable numbers (A.K.A. the promotional singles) are all pushed to the front. This brings attention to the palatability and sustainability issues. Though some songs have mood, attractive traits and $20.00 words, their monotony and/or $0.02 phrasing are overtaking. For example, “Giving Me Life” (featuring Slick Rick and Blood Orange) is noticeably sullen, has an ominous transition, and a curious voice-over from the 1983 film Trading Places. Despite that intrigue, it drones on. You may not make it through to its sixth minute. Otiose F-bombs further diminish cuts already suffering from some hum-drum (ex. “With You”). “Portrait” is a conceptual and stylistic misfit against the other tracks. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was meant for a different project. Its presence is welcomed, however, as it best represents Carey’s pen prowess. Co-writers include Bibi Bourelly, Charles Hinshaw and Priscilla Renea. Some who also functioned as producers are Nineteen85, DJ Mustard, Timbaland and The Stereotypes.  
 
8/10 times, a Mariah Carey record will provide selections to delight in for years to come: evocative singles, songs you wish were singles, and those that will be the center of “most underrated” debates. Caution unfortunately falls in that 2/10 ratio. The half hearted and shambolic execution put it there.