Showing posts with label New Edition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Edition. Show all posts

Friday, June 29, 2007

Is This the End: The N.E. Epilogue

So that we can finally move on as a society, here it is: The most complete New Edition playlist out there, arraigned in the best order possible. 1.2 hours of classic (R&B) boy-band goodness, as well as further proof that Ralph Tresvant is one of the all-time R&B front-men. The below songs are culled from one greatest hits record and two reunion albums, meaning you could save a lot of cash if you buy the singles straight off of I-Tunes (or however else you may get your music…). Enjoy the mix. Feel free to comment if you think I’ve forgotten anything (doubt it). I’m in the bunker the rest of weekend:

  1. “Can You Stand the Rain”, Greatest Hits, Vl.1
  2. “If it isn’t Love”, Greatest Hits, Vl.1
  3. “Something About You”, Home Again (the best BB & RT callabo…ever)
  4. “Count Me Out”, Greatest Hits, Vl.1
  5. “Cool It Now”, Greatest Hits, Vl.1
  6. “Candy Girl”, Greatest Hits, Vl.1
  7. “Hit Me Off”, Home Again
  8. “Best Man”, One Love
  9. “Mr. Telephone Man”, Greatest Hits, Vl.1
  10. “I’m Still in Love With You”, Home Again
  11. “One More Day”, Home Again (a truly beautiful Ricky Bell solo)
  12. “Re-Write the Memories”, One Love
  13. “Leave Me”, One Love
  14. “Newness”, One Love
  15. “Boys to Men, (Remix Version)”, Greatest Hits, Vl.1
  16. “Is this the End”, Greatest Hits, Vl.1

Possible thoughts next week: Nick Cave, Dick Cheney, Die Hard, the “Counsel of Democracies”, Melville, The Road

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

The Best of N.E.

Before getting into Nick Cave, I realized I should probably close the door on New Edition. So, here they are: the five best albums by former members of New Edition. I’ve also taken the liberty of compiling 2 playlists (one dance, one sexy-time), and in an effort to build a friendly blog community, I will happily burn copies for interested readers, providing I am provided materials and postage. Send me an email if interested:

Honorable Mention: Ralph Tresvant, Ralph Tresvant. Poor, Ralph. I’ve gone back and listened to this album and can’t help feeling nostalgic; but when the best an album can do is make you remember that eighth grade talent show where a dude won by dancing poorly to Black Sheep’s “The Choice is Yours”, while doing the occasional random back flip, one must seriously re-consider how good an album it is. Songs worth checking out: “Sensitivity”, Tresvant’s masterpiece sung over a classic Marvin Gaye sample. If you feel like entertaining memories of House Party 2, listen to “Stone Cold Gentleman”, close your eyes, and think of silk pajamas. Oh, honorable mention to any album by Boyz II Men.

5. Johnny Gill, Johnny Gill. I’ll say this about the NE boys: they sure do know how to title an album—you know, just in case you didn’t know the name of the guy dancing third from the right. Gill has been the most prolific former member (recording, or participating in the recording of, at least 8 albums), and this is his impressive debut, by the groups least known (at the time) member. “Rub You the Right Way” was the big single and holds up pretty well today (a fact I’m reminded of every time I hear it on pop radio when I’m driving through Knoxville, an impressive feat for a song over 10 years old—we’re talking an Ace of Bass like stretch). R&B fans are aware that this was also the album that featured “My, My, My”, the sex-up about speechlessness only the best kind of R&B singer could have pulled off (and, yes, that is Kenny G on sax in the background). Other songs: “Fairweather Friend”, “Lady Dujour”, and (personal favorite) “Giving My All To You”.

4. Provocative, Johnny Gill. This album would be higher if it had any impact at all on music. Unfortunately, while being a great example of Gill’s party floor bravado, as well as a textbook demonstration of his ability to gravely rake his vocals across the coals while still being able to hit the high octave in seamless transition (not to mention the first shimmerings of the 70’s neo-soul revival) nobody paid attention. The small hit (“The Floor”) was too hard for white suburbia (and, yes, I realize how that sounds now, but if you think back, Mariah Carey, Michael Jackson, and New Kids on the Block were the extent of R&B dance in the early 90’s—not very hard). I’ve often felt that, for a while, Gill was the closest singer we had to Otis Redding. When he’s on, he’s like Otis on Red Bull, but he lacks that working class weariness Otis carried everywhere he went. Gill could belt the gospel and charm the panties off the ladies, but his voice was too big to ever pull off tired (ala, “(Sitting) On the Dock of the Bay”). Still, for my money, Provocative remains one of the best R&B albums of the 90’s. Songs to hear: “The Floor”, “Provocative”, “A Cute, Sweet Love Addiction”, “Mastersuite”, “Tell Me How You want It”, “I Got You”.

3. Bobby, Bobby Brown. This album leaps Gill’s on the strength of sales alone. Make all the jokes you want, but (with exception of that now icky Whitney duet) this album is a good—if not great—follow-up to one of the biggest R&B albums ever. A perceived second album flop at the time, this is an album that never got the respect it deserved. There was no way Brown could top Don’t Be Cruel (something he’s probably known his entire life, hence the longest personal breakdown ever recorded—don’t be surprised if you see him on Flavor of Love in the future, wearing drag and a bowler hat—as if Flava would even notice), so rather than repeat himself, he went for unadulterated pop. One has to wonder if Whitney had anything to do with this image overhaul since this was the same guy who had been arrested for simulating sex on stage and wearing parachute pants with V-chest jackets. As much as I told myself when it came out that I didn’t like the album as much as its predecessor, I find that I listen to the tracks on this album more, which isn’t to say it’s better, as much as it acknowledges the evil powers of pop music. With exception of the highly motivated single “Humping Around” (oddly, not about humping at all), Brown went radio friendly, and it is eerie how inviting these cuts still feel (no “My Prerogative” in your face and daring you to leave). The tracks on this record are so slick and clean, listening to it is like taking a shower on a beach. Songs to remind yourself how good this album is: “Humping Around”, “’Til the End of Time”, “Get Away”, “College Girl”, “Good Enough”, “Pretty Little Girl”

2. Don’t Be Cruel, Bobby Brown. Let the arguing begin. Between those wailing operatic bookends, Bobby Brown (with big help from Teddy Reilly) produced one of the biggest R&B albums of all time. Part bad-boy-band-NE, part R&B pop radio, Brown created the closest follow-up to Thriller most of us were dying for. The album was so big it secured Brown that pivotal role in the sequel to Ghostbusters (they wouldn’t have beat the pink-goo if Brown’s doorman hadn’t let them into the building—simply, heroic). Take a listen to any one of the album’s 6 top 10 singles: “My Prerogative”, “Don’t Be Cruel”, “Every Little Step”, “Roni”, “Rock Wit’cha”, and the Ghostbusters track included on the remix album, “On Our Own” and tell me the late 80’s would’ve been a better place without these songs. Also check out: “All Day, All Night” “I Really Love You Girl”

1. Poison, Bell Biv Devoe. Look, sometimes other things have to be considered when making a list like this, and although it may seem unfair to put an album at the top for two songs, especially when those two songs haven’t aged as well as some of the songs on other albums, I feel there is a perfectly legitimate reason why Bell Biv Devoe’s Poison is the best (most significant) post NE album. If the boys don’t get credit for not titling their album after themselves (they waited to do that for their awful third album—see earlier post here), they should be given credit for inventing the current strand of hip-hop that pervades the airwaves in the like of Akon and T-Pain, an influence that can even be seen in late 2-Pac (All Eyez on Me is like Poison with guns and naughty words, recorded with Suge Knight and one of Rob VanWinkle's ankles). What did BBD do, exactly? Well, with two songs “Do Me”, “Poison”, they made sex, drinking, and smoking dope, nasty; more importantly, they made it digestible for white America. BBD invented a sound by finding a way to synchronize the raunch-rap of Ronnie Devoe and Michael Bivins with the smooth street vocals of Rickey Bell. I can’t remember a dirtier song about underage sex than “Poison”. And they did it without profanity (a huge plus back in the day when stores were being busted for selling 2 Live Crew records). There wasn’t a dirtier album out there without a warning label, and the album may sound silly in places now, but it was a huge breakthrough and its impact is still being felt. Songs to discuss: “Do Me”, “Poison”, also take a listen to “When Will I See You Smile Again”, and check out “Word to the Mutha”, the first of what would be three NE reunions, on their re-mix album. Good Stuff

As promised, the playlists (but remember sacrifices had to be made in order to make the cut and not all songs are form the albums listed above):

PARTY: The Floor (JG), Humpin’ Around (BB), Provocative (JG), Do Me! (BBD), On Our Own (BB), Poison, (BBD), My Prerogative (BB), A Cute, Sweet Love Addiction (JG), Every Little Step (BB), Fairweather Friend (JG), Don’t Be Cruel (BB), I Got You (JG), Get Away (BB), Stone Cold Gentleman (RT), Word to the Mutha! (NE), Hootie Mack (BBD)

SEXY: Rock Wit’cha (BB), My, My, My (JG), Sensitivity (RT), Roni (BB), There U Go (JG), One More Night (BB), Someone to Love (JG), Good Enough (BB), ‘Til the End of Time (BB), Let’s Get the Mood Right (JG), All Day All Night (BB), Tell Me How I Want It (JG), Colleg eGIrl (BB), Mastersuite (JG), Giving My All to You (JG)

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Bad Editions

First things first: Ralph Tresvant is one of the most underappreciated front-men in all of R&B. Allow me to explain. When Bobby Brown came out with Don’t Be Cruel (one of the best R&B albums of all time) in 1988 after splitting from New Edition, we felt his pain. How was this crooked-teethed grinding dancing explosion not the lead singer? The answer was simple: harmonics. What many of us didn’t realize at the time was that it was Tresvant’s voice that allowed the songs to smoothly transition between such disparate voices: from Ricky Bell’s lullaby croon, to Brown’s gravely grunts, and once Brown left, to the overpowering gospel of Johnny Gill. When called upon, Tresvant could also rap, often times playing conductor to Brown and Ronnie Devoe and Michael Bivins. Even when New Edition reunited (twice!) for Home Again (with Brown—yay!) and One Love (no Brown—eh…), it was Tresvant who, in workmanlike fashion, anchored the harmony of tracks like “Something About You” and “Newness”. His ability to gracefully manage the harmony can be heard clearly in New Edition’s best song “Can You Stand the Rain”, an uplifting break-up sad-song that somehow carries the listener through grief into a panasonic harmony of dizzying spirituality. It’s sad to say that, outside of “Sensitivity”, Ralph Tresvant’s best solo songs were when he was playing head-boy/man for New Edition (“If It Isn’t Love”, “Candy Girl”, “Cool it Now”).

All of this is prelude to the fact that, even though Tresvant was so essential to the harmonics of New Edition, his was the weakest solo effort, and, unfortunately, it is his worst album that almost (barring some freakish technicality) tops my list of top five worst albums by former members of New Edition. A list like this should be constructed with an acknowledgment of what made these albums (relative to the rest) qualify as “the worst”. Perhaps I should have written about the “best” albums before trying to truly capture the tragedy of these albums, but such a post will take much longer to compose and the matter (believe it or not—for me at least) requires serious scholarly thought and, in all likelihood, several more days to wrestle with. By starting with the worst, I can better cleanse my mind for that intimidating task. Here they are, best (relatively speaking) to worst.

5. BBD, Bell Biv Devoe, 2001: One of many tragedies that year. Luckily many of us were too engaged by more pressing issues, and thus didn’t have time to listen to the death rattle of one of the most influential (I’ll say it because it needs to be said) hip-hop groups of all time. A quiet (if not slightly dignified) death.

4. Chemistry, Johnny Gill, 1985: No that is not Garry Coleman on the album cover, but a pre-NE Johnny Gill. It seems unfair to blast a guy for an album that was made before he joined the group, but time-line association is not a factor, and it should be noted that, out of all of the NE alum, it is Gill who has managed the most competent (if unspectacular) repertoire (including a solid stint in another R&B super-group LSG—now more like SG…sadness). That is assuming you don’t count any of his numerous compilation CD’s against him (seriously, you're not the Stones, one should do it).

3. Forever, Bobby Brown, 1997: Perhaps it's a bit hypocritical to not put an album that made my “worst albums by an established R&B singer” on top this list, but new information has come to light, not to mention the fact that even a weakened 90’s Brown was still, “on his own” (tee-hee), a force. Just a colossal let-down and proof that the NE penchant for long breaks between albums, sadly, lead to their irrelevance. Still, not as bad as…

2. It’s Goin’ Down, Ralph Tresvant, 1993: It’s the embarrassing use of that apostrophe (even in 1993) that’s a clue to how bad this album was. The problem with Tresvant was that he wanted to be as “bad” as Brown, even when his best songs were from the traditional R&B persona of love-struck or sensitive player looking to move on. And I don’t understand his hang-up on rap (of course this was the age of Kid n’ Play), but I remember loving “Rated R” (from his self-titled debut) and digging Tresvant’s spittle filled delivery, but, unfortunately, can now only cringe at his attempts to sound “hard”, especially given the development of rap since 1990. The leather jacket without an undershirt had to have looked bad, even in '93. It seems hypercritical to talk so much about the album cover and title, but, sadly, not one good song. And I love Ralph Tresvant. But this is what happens when you abandon Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis (seriously, ask Janet).

1. Bobby Brown & Cape Breton Symphony Fiddlers, Bobby Brown, 1996: I shit you not, I-Tunes assures me this is a Bobby Brown album. Check it out if you don’t believe me. Now I don’t know what, if any, role Brown played in the creation of this album (perhaps it was the plaid fiddle—who knows, he always had an eye for fashion), but if he did, it has to have been one of the most catastrophic acts of fusion this side of Las Almos. If I don’t post for the next few weeks, it’s probably because I’m in my basement, playing this record, and trying to make sense of the world.