“I make every n***a irrelevant, I’m sex intelligent” – “Sex Intelligent,” The-Dream
The-Dream is a producer extraordinaire. He’s the mind behind Rihanna’s “Umbrella,” the song that put her career on the map as an international pop celebrity. However, The-Dream is also a R & B performer, a Prince and R. Kelly inspired balladier who through his adoration of swaggertastic plain talk has become one of urban music’s most noteworthy and entertaining musicians. Love King, slated to be his last album as a performer, continues in the vein of tracks like “Sweat it Out,” “Let Me See the Booty,” “Kelly’s 12 Play,” and initial hit “Falsetto” to set the standard for lowbrow sex talk amplified by high brow, galactic space soul production. In 56 minutes, he does very little to advance R & B, but he absolutely puts his best foot forward in crafting a solid R & B album that cements him as likely the most important producer in the genre, and a man whose method is sex, and his message is yes, over and over and over again.
Those who find issue with The-Dream find issue in the fact that his work appears to be firmly entrenched in the twin realms of absurdity and rehashed material. Yes, as a producer he’s clearly influenced by Prince. Upon an initial listen, the album feels like you’re treading into Prince’s giant selling 1992 album Diamonds and Pearls with the lush orchestration, steamy guitar solos and trance directed synthesizers. The-Dream is not here to be a next level auteur of forward thinking R & B. He’s adept in crafting pop masterpieces for the mainstream that take styles that we know and love, and in not deviating from his formula, with frequent collaborators Los the Maestro and the magnificent Tricky Stewart, he yet again achieves success.
As a songwriter, The-Dream is absolutely absurd. So was R. Kelly as well when he wrote “You Remind Me of Something” (of my Jeep, I wanna ride it, you’re something like my bank account, I wanna spend it), and last I checked, that was a #1 R & B single. In dwelling in the realm of lowest common denominators, The-Dream aspires to use metaphors and similes everyone wants to be able to understand to create pop artistry. Much like his hero Kells, he’s a braggart of unlimited means (“30 foot ceilings, lifestyle appealing/check my ’09 taxes, I made a killing”) in “February Love,” crafts unusual pop hooks couched in everyday hood baller drama (“If you ever make your girlfriend mad/don’t let your good girl go bad/drop five stacks on a makeup bag.”) in “Make Up Bag,” and ultimately always asserts himself as being the most legendary Lothario in the game (“[He] ain’t hitting it right/she need some Dream in her life.”) in “Veteran.”
Not every release needs to dwell in the area of the serious. Every album doesn’t need to be Erykah Badu’s New Amerykuh series dwelling on serious issues in black culture. As well, what differentiates The-Dream as successful in this realm as opposed to Usher and R. Kelly who fail here is that at some point, Usher was deadly serious on Confessions, and attempting to go back to being a freewheeling playa after baring your soul to the universe feels hollow and contrived. R. Kelly? He’s 42, and comes off as the old, desperate playboy wanting to be a sugar daddy to a hot young woman who’s only there for the money. The-Dream? He’s never been anything other than himself. He’s happily married to Christina Milian. His albums have always been fun and unusual in their take on being anthemic and sexy. He’s only ever been serious about causing soul smashing orgasmic bliss. In being this type of artist and never deviating from form, his work comes off honest, authentic and excellent. If this is his last solo release, it goes out with, yes, a bang. That’s what she said. Exactly. In The-Dream’s game, there is no shame.
FOUR OUT OF FIVE STARS
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