Artist: Foxy Brown
Album: Broken Silence
Label: Def Jam
Rating:
With the Notorious F.O.X. the name of the game has always been “let's get dirty.” Whereas before, dirty referred to the state of her diamante-studded designer drawers, this time around the gutter sparks aglow in the sheer gulliness of the album's fabric. The street sound in the tiny thuggette's newfound-superwoman timbre and daring production combines to unveil a thankfully honest, bling-deficient eighteen tracks that make Broken Silence one of the biggest surprises of the summer. Gone is the season of thong songs. No longer chasing hot spots with the same sell-all mindlessness; gone too are the days of that 1999 sophomore album Chyna Doll, of endless ad campaigns, when she elbowed nemesis Lil' Kim out of the miss-lil-black-darling-of-rich-white-folk slot. Model life might not have been completely just a phase, but Foxy'll be the first to remind you she's no longer playing “industry bitch”, unless you meant “in-the-streets bitch.”
This is the album where she reclaims the sacred street cred, manifested with Mary J-like melancholy. Sure, she can roll with everyone from Mystikal to CNN, and just like the best ruffneck veterans, she'll solicit Kelis for her staple robo-baby choruses, but like any clever fox she covers her tracks, making sure not to alienate more thin-skinned fans. Fashionistas can breathe easy: Foxy still drops more Dior, Prada and Gucci in her rhymes than most folk namecheck their homies. Fret not, Donatella, for she may “rap too dirty” but she's still the “prettiest rap broad…nipples still hard.”
Decidedly low on unbearable tracks (the messy “I Don't Care” is too forgettable to even jar), the album's strength is its sonic eclecticism. Confessional dirges like the somber apologia “A Letter” are thrown in with dirty warehouse reggae romps like her infectious single “Oh Yeah” and “Tables Will Turn.” In the same breath as toying with another Neptunes-textbook-club-banger “Gangsta Boogie,” she'll go as far as experimenting with a Middle Eastern discotheque hook for “Hood Scriptures.”
Whereas subversive last time meant hooker, stripper and tramp role-playing galore—this time the subversion is simply in the underground essence of the sound. And whereas last time when bare-all meant playing pin-up with a Gucci g-string, this time bare-all means confessional lyricism at its most poignant.
- 360hiphop.com
|
Artist: Janet jackson
Album: All For You
Label: Virgin
Rating:
Admit it. There was a time that you gave up on Janet Jackson. You remember the conversation you had with your friend after listening to 1997's ambitious yet unfocused wet-dream obsession Velvet Rope: "What's this panty wetting Velvet Rope shit. It ain't as funky as Control. Where the hell is "Miss You Much". Now that was some real dance shit. Janet's on some dominatrix, sex tip now. I wish she's go back to "That's The Way Love Goes." Then out of curiosity you pick up Janet's first album in four years, All For You, and you find yourself taking back every acid-laced diss you threw at Miss Jackson, singing every word, doing every dance step you can remember. Yes kids, Janet Jackson, the 15-year vet, music video icon is still hungry in the wake of Britney's pop princess rivival. And this time Janet, longtime collaborative producers Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis, and co-producer Rocwilder (of Redman fame) shrewdly tangles an insatiable mix of infectious party-starters, sex driven romps and razor edge hip-hop tinged tracks to unleash not only this year's most deliciously accessible work, but perhaps 2001's most balanced effort. "I wish I had a lot of stuff in me now" a horny Janet quips in a humorous intro. But ain't nothing funny about "You Ain't Right," a vengeful, synthesized cut inspired by the punchy funk of Sly Stone. "Thought my friend had my back/Just to stab oh yeahŠ" Janet fumes over a disloyal partner.
However, the second most famous Jackson has other things on her mind. She works the dance club circuit on the blissful first single "All For You" and goes back to the crib for some serious sex during a four-song segment that gives a wink to Prince's most erotic work. Chief among Janet's baby-making set is the gracefully produced, Far East leanings of "China Love," a lush track that sidesteps tired pillow talk for more sensual poetry ("They speak of worlds gone by/We loved another time," Janet whispers) and the blushing "Love Scene (Ooh Baby)," on which a honey covered Miss Jackson explicitly moans over falling rain effects, "When you're fu*king..."
And when she's not shaking her ass or doing the do on All For You, Janet is giving the finger to her ex-hubby, Rene Elizondo Jr, who has been involved in a bitter public divorce battle with the feathery voiced siren. "Ha Ha, Hoo Hoo thought you'd get the money too/ Greedy motherfuckers" shoots Janet on then rap edged "Son of a Gun," a smartly written cut that features Carly Simon, utilizing the legendary singer/songwriter's classic '70s anti-dog classic "You're So Vain" as a foundation. Such blistering statements and Janet's own confident lyricism struts and prances with an elite star-power that drives the long-surviving pop dancing queen's younger rivals to shame. The true stars of the record once again, iconic producers Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis have come up with their most infectious work since the Janet album while Rocwilder shows himself to be a diverse conductor beyond hip-hop as exhibited on the operatic "Trust A Try," which unexpectedly rocks out into a blistering guitar solo as double-J begs a jilted lover to forget his past: "Don't push me out the door/I wouldn't do that to you." Okay Janet, you win.
- Platform.net
|