Big-beat, big-synth R&B, full or full-throated yearning and a small cast of male guests, many of whom seem to be there to lavish affection on Blige and lend legitimacy to her effort. Yes kids, she's a girl, but we're boys, and we approve, so its ok. Like her! The endless, tuneless, endless, endless intro in particular is the greatest offender, just a bunch of people saying how great the album you're about to hear is.
Can't a record just stand on its own, rather than containing its own marketing campaign? Maybe not. Maybe that kind of complaint is a crass failure to understand the plight of a female R&B artist in the 90's. But if you had to do that to get the record sold, that's not my problem - I've got to listen to what you put on wax, and the album itself is weirdly self-conscious, like the arrogant-but-insecure guy at the party that drops the names of all the people he knows and all the countries he's visited and the mountains he's summitted.
As for the actual music? The production's spacy and inventive, the actual singing is good, but the subject matter is too one dimensional to keep my attention: love love love, want it have it need it get it, love love love, baby baby baby, love love love.
Not my scene. I'm sure this is influential, it might even be good, but given the substantial distance in culture, age, space, time, gender, race, priorities and interests between Blige and I, I just can't relate to her as a person, and if all we're going to talk about is love, I need to relate to you and your quest for it. On one hand, this is my failing; its a failing to step outside myself and reflect upon this work as an objective reviewer. On the other hand, I don't feel like Blige makes any attempt to meet me halfway, to expand her message beyond love love love, baby baby baby, love love love. If your subject matter is that one-note, you risk missing someone who wants something more, and then 2/5
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