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Album Review Ne-Yo
- In My Own Words
That was the first thought that ran through my head as I gave R&B's newest chosen one, Ne-Yo's debut album, In My Own Words a spin. I mean, he doesn't look very old. He doesn't have any noticeable facial hair, and he always has a damn hat on his head like this is '85 and his name is James Todd Smith. He has to be a young boy, which means there's no way he's had enough experience with the equipment a woman is working with south of the Mason Dixon to talk about it so much. Richard Pryor in his grandmother's brothel hadn't seen this much vagina, so mini Michael Strahan with a soft voice definitely hasn't. Oddly enough, as I was giving Words its last go 'round before writing my review, my girl Sawniecha called me up and heard So Sick playing in the background and said, "Girl, can you believe that young Styles P look-a-like is twenty-two years old? Them record people must have doctored his papers and made him as old as they made Beyonce young." Sawniecha is soooo crazy, but that's my girl. I don't care if it's a three day or all star weekend, she will find her way into a V.I.P. room, okay? Anyway, I couldn't believe that little boy was that old. But apparently he's been writing long enough to be somewhere around twenty, penning hits for Mario, Faith and my girl Mary J. Blige, so I guess it's possible. This album really isn't that bad. The mid-tempo pace and flow of the majority of tracks is an underappreciated quality many supposed R&B albums these little boys record that sound more like Bone Thugs rejects truly lack. And while it's sometimes overdone on songs like Sign Me Up and Let Me Get This Right which turn out sounding like songs Ne-Yo's already written for people, it's righted on quality features like It Just Ain't Right and Mirror, where he shows how much of a typical dirty male he is by describing wanting to see his girl "enjoying" herself in front of, yes, a mirror...Hmm, maybe he ain't so young. But just I started thinking like this, I came across When You're Mad and its unbelievable chorus: Everytime you scream at me, Right, so as I was saying before, he can't be any older than 18. No way in hell. Every man that I've had since I was that age broke out to play Nintendo or something with his boys when I felt like arguing, citing my rolling neck and eyes as the reason he had to leave. More typical male, afraid to confront a subject he can't solve with his penis, what else is new? Well, the best way I can describe this record is imagine a less impressive interpretation of Michael Jackson's Off The Wall, but from a heterosexual male who is borderline young enough to stay the night over at Michael's house. Hahahahaha, I'm as crazy as Sawniecha...I know we're going out tonight.
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Big Earl: GET OUT THE WAY! |
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"How
old is this boy? He sure doesn't look old enough to be
talking about all this damn sex!" 