Rock & Rant-When I need to quickly rant about music.

In November 2012, I did a “Rock&Rant” marking my observation that the genre of R&B as we knew it had fallen into a dangerous, uninspired extinction ozone, merely hinting at potential causes. I left the article open because I wanted to hear everyone else’s thoughts, but after reading “Why Has R&B Become So Misogynistic?”  by Vibe’s Michael Arceneaux and listening to the R&B farce that was Trey Songz’s  new album, Trigga (see my review here), I’m ready to name the culprit: hip-hop. Hip-hop music (inadvertently) killed R&B.

In the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, hip-hop was establishing itself as the pop music of America and began to leave its mark with other genres. Even country music had to get a taste (ex. Trace Adkins “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk”). Once hip-hop emerged (originating in the 1980’s), it wasn’t long before R&B was synonymous with it, mainly because of color-coding and racism. In spite of this, R&B long maintained its own distinction, but on the way to Oz, it got lost. Other genres that trendily attached hip-hop sustained their genesis and foundation, but mainstream R&B eventually allowed theirs to nearly collapse. These days, you almost can’t tell the difference between an R&B and hip-hop hit: every other song has a rap verse and, increasingly, the harder-driven rhythms, abrasive language and content, misogyny and incensed detachment often heard in hip-hop are becoming common threads in R&B; a genre once characterized by seductively smooth, bluesy and soulful sensuality. The shift I’m describing is lucidly exemplified on the aforementioned Trey Songz record. By the end of it, I yelled “This is not R&B!!” The definitive “I love you more than life itself,” “haven’t been able to sleep since you left” and “close the door and let’s revel in our passion” statements were replaced with  “These hoes going to do what they want…F*** them all the time, but you know I never wife them…I swear these hoes trifling (that’s not an affronting double standard at all),” “If you ain’t the type of b**** talking about relationships, hit me up on that late night s***,” “All we do is f***, drink and sleep” and violent sexual analogies. I thought R&B was supposed to be enticing. I thought R&B was the home of baby-makers, begging pleas, broken moments and wedding playlist jams.

R&B has died and its fan support is wavering because it has isolated its audience and forfeited its personality, charm and quality and become a watered down sub-genus of hip-hop. It’s unrecognizable. It doesn’t know what it is anymore. How can you speak when you have no voice? Some might argue that like any other genre, R&B has various stylistic periods and this is just another phase. The concerning difference, however, is that this phase has too much likeness to an already existing base. Strip it down and the only thing that makes it R&B is that it’s sung. As a fan, it bothers (and surprises) me that I can’t get through even a Kelly Rowland album without hearing multiple expletives, and it’s not even from a featured rapper! Charting top 5 songs have f*** right in the chorus. The sexual representations are tacky, impulsive and lack craft and wit. Sex is now a means to an individually hedonistic end. Further signifying the identity crisis is that even the modern break-offs are fairly bereft of R&B. The burgeoning “Alternative R&B” (AKA PBR&B and Futuristic R&B; ex. Frank Ocean) has thoughtful and tender lyrics, but no musical traits of “rhythm and blues,” and computerized and electronic effects. It’s arguably only branded as R&B because the artists are predominately black, which goes back to color-coding.

Don’t get me wrong, hip-hop has its value and I’m all for genre-mixing: it brings communities together and exposes people to styles they may not have listened to before. This outcome is most likely to occur though when there’s a balance and each side stays true to its defining basis. These “Hoes Ain’t Loyal.”

Album Review.
Overall: Ignorant, offensive and insincere trash pretending to impersonate R&B

Trey Songz has either forgotten who his audience is or is unsure about what audience he wants to target. He’s categorized as an R&B act and has a majority female following, but his new release Trigga is a polarizing sung version of a rap album that I doubt any self-respecting woman would enjoy. Mr. Songz has set out to win the award for Best Arrogant Prick in Stereo, boasting about having adulterous flings with other cheaters and singing about women as if their only use and purpose is to be disposable sexual blow up dolls (ex.“F*** ‘em all the time, but you know I never wife ‘em” from “Dead Wrong”), with an overkill of expletives and exclusively referring to men and women as “niggas and bitches.” This isn’t your average sexapalooza/player album; it doesn’t have half the finesse, cleverness and deceptive romanticism that helps such records get by with their questionable content. Trigga is flat-out ignorant. Just as Songz’s previous Chapter V, the album pretends to tell a reformative story where he loses his mate to his shenanigans, but there’s no real epiphany found in the lyrics and the loss part is so late in the game (track 10/17), it’s completely unconvincing, insincere and not fluid. It’s bad enough an album concept was recycled back-to-back, much less the execution failing for a 2nd time. Unlike the lyrics, the music is a tolerably proper, flowing and catchy union of hip-hop and R&B, but for a content-oriented listener like myself, it’s hard to focus on and/or appreciate when offensive and degrading lines are penetrating my ears.

There’s so much irony surrounding Trigga. Usually when a song single or album performs commercially well, the artist will quickly find themselves in a cycle of having to recreate the same thing over and over. After the success of 2009’s Ready, Songz was expected to keep churning out sexual material, but it wouldn’t be a total loss because Ready was a stable, levelheaded effort. I even said in my review that Songz had the potential to help R&B get back on its feet. However, Songz was allowed, or pushed, by record executives to deviate further and further away from the workable launching pad that made him a chart star. Recreation would’ve actually worked musically and commercially in that case, but alas, here Songz is: instead of giving us capable R&B, Trigga is indicative of how and why R&B died. It’s such an atrocity, that it’s insulting it samples Teena Marie (“Na Na” uses “Ooh La La La”) and nods to Monica’s “One of Them Days” (i.e. “Change Your Mind”). This all definitely makes the classy and somewhat symbolic album cover art laughable. The last irony? It seems that when an album is enjoyable or qualitative, it’s only about 11 tracks long, but when it isn’t worth the time, you get 17.

By Eddie J., Contributing Writer
When we listen to music, we typically attribute our listening experience to the person on the album cover, not considering or forgetting that there are MULTIPLE people behind the scenes who made that album happen. Of the more vital figures in the recording process are producers; many of whom could walk right by us in the grocery store and we would never know that they’re the reason behind our favorite song’s existence (no, not every producer is a key-name with a solo record or shouts out their name at the beginning of every song). If you don’t already know, producers are generally responsible for the musical (and sometimes vocal) arrangement. Every so often, producers also contribute lyrics. When an artist releases subpar music, they themselves are often blamed, but the producers are really the ones who should take the bag. If they do their job, producers can make a barely talented artist average or good artist great. Many of your favorite artists might not be as successful without them. Here’s a list of some big names that only go as far as their producers. You might be surprised at who you see on the list.

#5 Trey Songz, Key Producer: Troy Taylor
Okay, I may get some flak for even putting Trey Songz in a category that has “artist” in the title, but in my defense, Songz was actually listenable and kind of unpredictable once upon a time.  Now, this isn’t one of those deluded “Oh, he sounded so much better and he didn’t just sing about sex in the early days” rants, because let’s be honest: he’s sung about sex since his first album and in abundance. However, the difference from the “Gotta Make It” album’s sex songs and those on “Chapter Five” is the music and the little fantasies he and his songwriters left to the imagination by not being overtly explicit. His first album, which is considered an R&B classic, was almost exclusively produced by Troy Taylor. Don’t know Troy? His credits include Whitney Houston’s remake of “I’m Every Woman,” Tyrese’s “Sweet Lady,” Toni Braxton’s “Just Be a Man About It,” Aaliyah’s “Miss You” and B2K’s “Why I Love You” (one of their few good songs), just to name a few. As time progressed, more people got added to the mix on Trey’s albums, making a cesspool of forgettable songs. Not to discredit the other producers who have come and gone on the Songz bandwagon, but there’s just no genuinely amazing music-to-artist chemistry by the time he gets to “Passion, Pain and Pleasure.” We saw the foolery when Taylor wasn’t featured on “Trey Day” and songs like “No Clothes On” made the cut. Even with big names like R. Kelly and Stargate, Songz came off as corny, lackluster or like a Diet R. Kelly. Yet, “Ready” filled the void for the general public and guess whose name showed up in the credits the most as a producer? Troy Taylor. “Jupiter Love” anyone?

#4 Christina Aguilera, Key Producers: Too many to list
So Aguilera is great for this list because she makes two points: 1) some artists are only great with a select few producers and 2) NEVER burn bridges that’ll keep you from getting to your hometown. 
The interesting thing about Christina is that she doesn’t really work with anyone more than twice album wise; the only common denominator is Linda Perry who frequently appeared on “Stripped” and “Back to Basics.” I won’t make this into an argument for which albums have been successful or not, because that doesn’t really qualify the greatness of the music. Let’s just say that “Bionic” and “Lotus” haven’t musically put Ms. Aguilera in the best light. Her self-titled debut was an amazing mix between bubble-gum pop and R&B tracks to show off her vocal versatility, and gave her a solid foundation to attract audiences to both catchy songs and her amazing voice, without her even having to touch a pen. By “Stripped,” Aguilera began to take full control and write songs about social and personal issues, which is probably why most of her fans hold the album to such a high standard. The producer behind the bulk of this feat? None other than Scott Storch, who gave the project grungy, raw undertones that made it such a classic to most listeners. Other significant ingredients included Linda Perry’s musical softness and vulnerability in the ballads and the catchy, yet soulful touch of Matt Morris, who co-wrote over half of it (Morris is responsible for Kelly Clarkson’s “Miss Independent,” which was originally written for “Stripped”).

Album Review.
Likes: Pretty Girls Lie, Without a Woman
Overall: Same old sexapalooza, nothing new or interesting. No artistic growth.

We may be on “Chapter V” with Trey Songz, but he’s still telling the same story. An almost more obnoxious take on his previous 2 albums, Songz gives us yet another dose of poorly written sex-obsessed material. The lyrics are still annoyingly literal, simple-minded and boyish, failing to be mentally stimulating, much less sexually for an adult woman. Even more unattractive is the cocky, abrasive “playboy” edge added to the content. There’s so much arrogant bravado, you have to wonder if Songz is now trying to appeal to men instead of women. For example, I’m not sure how many women you could attract with a lyric like “I only came here for 2 reasons…the bitches and the drinks” (2 Reasons). Speaking of “2 Reasons,” it musically sounds like “Say Aah” from the “Ready” album. Several of the tracks sound like recycled versions of his previous hits, which doesn’t help his case. The last half of the album tries to be a romantic and thoughtful contrast to the brassy 1st; it appears Songz is trying to tell a story of a flawed man who wasn’t smart enough to clean up his act for the right woman, but the shallow and weak lyrics don’t provide the depth. Vocally, Songz is as whiny and yodeling as ever. Considering the singer was compelled to put 18 tracks on the album, you would think he had a lot to say, but he isn’t saying anything we haven’t heard before.