​Album Review.
Favorites: So Bad, Gold
Overall: A seductive musical narrative that's actually R&B, and not diet hip-hop.
 
The amount of unsung and/or underrated music acts is so innumerable, there’s a whole television series dedicated to profiling them. If an artist doesn’t have a proper time in the sun, it’s usually for one of three causes. One, they sabotaged themselves. Two, their professional team stifled them, or three, audiences were indifferent toward them for some reason. For Joanna “JoJo” Levesque, it was option two.
 
If you’re not already familiar, JoJo rose to fame at age 13, being known as “the little white girl with a big, soulful voice.” She was steered into the pop market, and hits like “Leave (Get Out)” and “Too Little, Too Late” helped her become the youngest solo act to top the Billboard Hot 100. The attention lead to film opportunities, which her recording label reportedly wasn’t thrilled about. This was just the beginning of her troubles with Blackground Records. As the company folded, JoJo found herself locked into a contract and unable to release material. A decade would pass before she could let anything out commercially, losing critical years. Aside from die-hard fans, listeners who knew her had the impression she left the industry. Fresh ones couldn’t discover her because her work wasn’t available on streaming platforms (she re-recorded songs to get around this). She eventually signed with Atlantic Records, but her time with them was brief, as she desired more "ownership." After developing her own imprint, Clover Music, she ultimately took her business to Warner.
 
Promotional single “Joanna” arrived with a visual in October 2019. In it, JoJo sings from the perspective of critics and disgruntled long-term fans. People bum rush past her, trying to get to a glitzy star in a limo. She concludes with “You were supposed to be somebody, you were supposed to make more money, make us proud...nobody likes you in Massachusetts, you should just hurry and drop your new shit,” wearing a sly grin. She was putting followers on notice that she wasn’t giving up and she’d be making her third major attempt at standing in the sun.
 
JoJo’s stepped out with Good to Know (stylized as good to know), which chronicles her seesaw between maladaptive coping behaviors and those that are constructive. She and the production team did an excellent job personifying the misleading and insidious lure of vices. Lido, Doc McKinney, Noise Club, and others gave sound to self-destruction masked with pleasure and hedonism from moment one. Opener “So Bad” has seductive, yet equally ominous energy. On the infidelity tune, a muffled fluttering piano rises to a dramatic radiating bass, layered with yowling synths and womanly moans. JoJo herself convincingly plays two parts. In the chorus, she's a confident mistress who’s thrilled by hiding in plain sight. In the verses, she emits desperation and insatiability. She pleads for more attention, and is adamant she’s the best option for her pursuit. 

​Album Review.
Favorites: Kissing Other People, Older Than I Am, Since I Was a Kid, Goodnight
Overall: An endearing debut; full-hearted lyrics and vocal are supported with ambient alt-pop production.
 
Before the FOX network premiered Empire, ABC had a similar country incarnation called Nashville. It had better writing and music, but I digress. The cast included two charming youth actresses who were sisters in real life: Lennon and Maisy Stella. I was enchanted by their beauteous harmonies, and impressed with their level of talent, stage presence, and emotionality. It was a pleasure watching them continue to develop as performers over the show’s six year run (the last two seasons were on CMT). Needless to say, I was excited when Lennon (the older Stella) announced that she’d be releasing material.
 
The succinct Love, Me EP arrived in November 2018; about four months after Nashville wrapped. While it was a departure from the acoustic-guitar heavy country-folk Stella did on the television drama, the pathos was retained. Infectious alt-pop with a melancholic underbelly is what she evidently sought to create. Love, Me’s full-length follow up, Three. Two. One. was titled to note a countdown to her complete artistic unveiling. “This is me releasing myself from the pressure of prior expectations...three, two, one, I’m diving in...” she explained to Apple Music.
 
Three. Two. One. definitely expands Love Me’s view, being more experimental and a deeper plunge into a crestfallen abyss. Lennon’s lyrics tell the tale of a young woman (she’s 20) trying to prevent being broken by life’s first waves of hardships and heartaches. It details a struggle to maintain innocence and hope, and use the best of limited wisdom. Words about sadistic relationships (ex. “Games”), growing pains (ex. “Since I Was a Kid”), and familial fractures and bonds (ex. "Weakness (Huey Lewis)") are lifted off the page by her wistful vocal performance. Her natural rasp and wispiness contribute to her affect, rather than restrict it (which is the case for many artists with similar tones). When she leans into a smoother slide, there’s a lusciousness you wouldn’t mind hearing more of though (ex. “Goodnight”). The way she captures the fragility and vulnerability of this stage of aging is a testament to how in tune she is with her feelings and expression. Some of those co-writing with Stella are Caroline Ailin, Simon Wilcox, Phamous, and Ruslan Odnoralov of the band Everfound. Only two songs are without Stella’s penmanship.

​Album Review.
Overall: Not a promising sign that depth and variation in subject matter and musical style is on the way.
 
Burgeoning artists wait with bated breath for their 'breakout' year, and that was 2019 for Houston rapper Megan Thee Stallion. People were taken with the tenacious confidence that fueled her fiery, unabashedly sexual, and often amusing rhymes. She especially found favor with some for talking about men in the same dismissive manner women are discussed in hip-hop/rap. Her energy is intriguingly equal parts commanding and congenial, drawing listeners further in. Her likability factor is the kind that easily spurs viral hashtags and challenges on social media (ex. #HotGirlSummer and the current #SavageChallenge).
 
That isn’t to say her metal doesn’t need polishing though. Some followers desired to hear vulnerability; a request Megan repeatedly vowed to fulfill with her upcoming debut album (as of now, there are only mixtapes and EPs). A creative weakness that I’ve observed is topical and musical redundancy. There’s a lot riding on a first LP for any artist, much less one with a preliminary mainstream fan-base that has expectations.
 
To hold eager and inquiring minds over, Megan released Suga, yet another EP. It’s also a presumed retort against 1501 Certified Entertainment, a label she’s in a dispute with. It consists of songs she recorded while working on the album. It’s named after one of her three ‘alter-egos.’ On wax, there’s no discernible difference between the ‘personalities.’ This makes the mention of them useless and annoying, but that’s a rant for another day.
 
If the Suga EP is an appetizer, the main course of a full length project may only be mildly satisfying. Lyrically, Megan mostly sticks to what’s made her popular so far. She tries to respond to pleas for depth and content diversity, but just goes slightly beneath the surface. You get the sense that she’s not totally comfortable with it yet. The unconvincing and awkward “What I Need” is proof of that. It’s no wonder it was shoved to the end of the tracklist, as it contradicts Megan’s detached attitude about romantic relationships on previous songs. Further, it’s conceding and self-deprecating. She begs for the forgiveness of a love interest, and frames herself as erratic and emotionally unstable.

Album Review.
Overall: 'Run of the mill' contemporary album; Bieber's hiatus didn't cultivate artistic growth
 
Justin Bieber’s released his first full-length album in almost five years, and called it Changes. Between the time gap and title, one might expect thoughtful lyrics and indications of artistic growth. Perhaps something stylistically different or musically experimental would be in store. Not for Bieber. For him, it’s business as usual.
 
All is more or less the same in every area. To start with the subject matter, it treks the familiar path of eager lust and love. Any mentions of life transitions are vague or spurious. For instance, he professes “...I'm going through changes; don’t mean that I'll change” on the namesake track, but there’s no clarity on what adjustments he’s experiencing. Further, how they’re impeding his efforts  to be the “best” he can for his partner.
 
On the opening “All Around Me,” he sings the following about a mate: “Never thought I could ever be loyal to someone other than myself, I never thought I could ever be a spoiler, guess anything is possible with your help, anything’s possible since you made my heart melt.” These lines are supposed to be romantic and demonstrate his personal development, but they do the opposite. Instead of taking responsibility for his lack of integrity in previous relationships, he insinuates the cause of his behavior was a woman failing to be 'the right one'. This is obnoxious, and certainly doesn’t signify maturation.
 
The conceptual issues aside, a few numbers are written on an intermediate level. Others are more on the juvenile side (ex. “Intentions”). Several of Bieber’s co-scribes also have production credits, including The Audibles team, HARV, Joshua Gudwin, and Sasha Sirota. His go-to guy, Jason “Poo Bear” Boyd, leads.
 
The rhythms of contemporary R&B/hip hop rule the album. The latter 30% shoots for sentimentality with plenty of acoustic guitars and sappy content. Both portions suffer from repetition. While a handful of cuts are moderately appetizing, there’s too much similarity between them. Additionally, there’s little musicality. The instrumentation and arrangements are sparing. All this causes the record to feel lengthy, when it’s only 51 minutes.
 
Vocally, it seems Bieber hasn’t continued to perfect his skills. You can’t hear any enrichment, and his falsetto sounds weak. His performance on the LP is without character and emotion.
 
The deficiencies of Changes make it 'run of the mill'. Coming from a popular act after half a decade, shouldn't it be more than that?

Album Review.
Likes: Lose You to Love Me, Crowded Room, Cut You Off
Overall: More authentic than Revival. Solid lyrical content. A minimalist musical approach done right.
 
Selena Gomez declared a Revival four years ago with her last album, but it was premature. The material denoted someone in the thickety-thick-thick of despondency, rather than on the other side of it. Its coarse language and sexual themes were so contrived, it was evident Gomez was still grasping her identity and womanhood.
 
The new Rare more authentically presents Gomez as self-aware and revivified. Conceptually, it’s a cautionary tale about the hazards of unhealthy interpersonal relationships (ex. “Lose You to Love Me”) and forgetting your worth (ex. The title track). It also candidly relays that recovering and learning from past experiences is as complex as having them in the first place. Among the challenges are facing individual accountability (ex. “Look at Her Now”), disenchantment (ex. “People You Know”), trying to maintain emotional availability (ex. “Vulnerable”), and relapsing into bad habits and patterns (ex. “Fun”). Ordinarily, these subjects would be discussed in an impassive, detached, unimaginative, crude and/or tasteless way. 'Vapid and vulgar' is the standard for much of today’s popular music. Apparently, Gomez and her co-writers understood that true commitment to their narrative meant actually being creative and impassioned. The list of lyricists include Julia Michaels, Justin Tranter (both worked on Revival), Bebe Rexha, Nolan Lambroza, Caroline Ailin, Chloe Angelides and Scott Harris Friedman. Despite there being over 30 contributors in total, Rare’s content is very cohesive. Femme fatale tune “Ring” is the only song that seems off-topic.
 
The musical approach is also consistent, though there are far fewer producers than songwriters. Teams Mattman & Robin and The Monsters were on the boards, along with Sir Nolan, Simon Says, Bart Schoudel, Ben Rice, Alex Hope and several others. Minimalism with tracks, arrangements, and the like is one way to exude sensitivity and spotlight vocals, but it’s not foolproof. Possible consequences are being unattractive, boring or rudimentary. Gomez’s team avoided these downfalls by building ambiance and referencing various genres outside of pop.
 
What the layers of instruments and effects lacked in number, they made up for in presence. The resounding quality allows for focused listening, where you can clearly hear every item and word. There’s a sonic intimacy, reminiscent of a live acoustic set in close quarters. This, with all the deep-tones and style variations, creates drama and holds attention. Synths—pianos, guitars and bass—dominate. “Let Me Get Me” stands out with its suggestions of Latin. “Kinda Crazy” is kinda funky, with its groovy guitars and jazzy horns. “Crowded Room” phones R&B, and “Cut You Off” sings the blues in its breakdown. “Cut’s” deliberate irony in having a cozy feel with ‘kiss off’ lyrics is amusing. I so enjoy songs like that; it’s why I fell in love with Beyoncé’s “Irreplaceable.” This foursome of tracks is in the latter half of the LP. There, fans will find a heavier dose of what they’re used to hearing from Gomez: catchy and flirtatious ditties.
 
Vocally, there are no changes to report. Gomez’s finite and breathy pipes shine most on smoky cuts like “Crazy.”
 
Sexy, heart-tugging and well-executed, Rare has you wanting to know more about Selena Gomez’s professed ‘rise from the ashes.’ It's also not a bad musical start to 2020.

​When you think of Halloween media iconicism, John Carpenter's 1978 namesake film starring Jamie Lee Curtis will likely come to mind (the latest major installment of the franchise was released in 2018). Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, Child's Play and Scream would probably follow. Children's movies for the holiday are rarely stamped as classics because they aren't bone-chilling enough. Moreover, they often struggle to be more than a piece of nostalgia as their first viewers age. Disney's Hocus Pocus is an exception. A comedy about three minors conquering resurrected sister-witches from the 1600's, it's religiously played on television from September through November. Fans have clamored for a sequel for years, and every milestone anniversary is abundantly celebrated. Costume shops have entire sections dedicated to the film. Nothing speaks to its cross-generational power like a product-line that includes toys and teen costumes, as well as shot glasses and home-ware.
 
The joke is on screen critics from 1993, who lambasted Hocus Pocus and predicted it was doomed for obscurity. They were too busy being their usual fault-finding and cantankerous selves, they missed what would make it eternally bewitching. Senselessly looking at a youth movie through an adult lens, they made a bevy of irrational complaints and observations. For instance, some said it was "too silly;" there's no such thing as that with kids. Others would accuse it of being perverse, revealing their own warped mindsets. One reviewer supposed that the dainty way witch Sarah Sanderson (Sarah Jessica Parker) laid on her broomstick was sexually suggestive (I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I typed that sentence). Parker and the then teenage Vinessa Shaw (who portrayed Allison Watts) were the primary targets of venereal comments, but more on that problematic and unsettling aspect later. Assessments more grounded in logic deemed the film unorganized and conflicted for its contrasting comedic styles and character setups. Its variation enabled it to engage a wide audience though, which is the source of its longevity.  
 
With Hocus Pocus' humor and concepts, many writers took issue with the macabre and mature surrounding lighter fare. Slapstick hijinks and G-rated giggles were alongside moderately sophisticated sarcasm, locker-room references to women's breasts and repeat mentions of virginity. A touching moral about cherishing and protecting your siblings (to the extent of self-sacrifice) is the B-plot to witches stealing children's souls to live forever. Within the first 30 minutes (or less) alone, one child is lured away with a spellbinding lullaby and murdered, another is turned into an immortal cat, and the witches are hung (with a promise to return of course). We see the nooses around their necks, and then a cut to their dangling feet. Nothing too serious, haha.
 
What seemed like terrible, irresponsible and chaotic storytelling to the critics was actually pretty strategic and intentional...and ultimately effective. 
​
Oil of Boil, and a Dead Man's Toe (The Method to the Madness)
 
The Hocus Pocus crew explained the method to their madness in commemorative interviews with the Freeform channel last year. Writer and producer David Kirschner developed the plot with Mick Garris, seeking to break open the market for family movies in the adult-centric Halloween genre. 'House of Mouse' ideology was their compass. "Disney used to say you had to have darkness to have light. The film embraced that," soundtrack composer and long-time Disney collaborator John Debney detailed. Garris described his screenplay (co-authored by Neil Cuthbert) as "dark" and "scarier" than the end result. Moves to brighten and balance the work included making zombie Billy Butcherson (Doug Jones) "one you could date," instead of be frightened of. Choreographer and director Kenny Ortega was recruited to ensure the illuminations translated on tape. "It was a spooky comedy for sure, but it became much more fun than I had ever envisioned, and that's Kenny. He just brought a joy to it," Kirschner reminisced. 

​Warning: This review contains SPOILERS.
 
Film remakes already have plenty to live up to without having to make up for the shortcomings of a previous reboot. Knowing this didn’t keep me from expecting more from Disney’s live-action version of The Lion King, after their endeavor with Aladdin let me down though. The Guy Ritchie-directed Aladdin offered an empowered Princess Jasmine, but other changes and missed CGI (computer generated imagery) opportunities left me feeling annoyed and discontent (you can read my full review here). The Lion King had the added task of setting things right.
 
In the (unlikely) event that you have no idea what The Lion King (1994) is about, it’s kind of a coming of age tale with lots of anecdotes about life stages and how we’re all connected (so, imagine a child-appropriate NBC’s This is Us). Cub Simba (JD McCrary) is the heir to his father Mufasa’s (James Earl Jones; I'm so glad he was able to do the project, no one else would be right) throne, and his disgruntled uncle Scar (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is far from thrilled. Scar concocts a murderous plot with exiled hyenas, so he can rise to power. Simba narrowly escapes, but it’s assumed he’ll die in the wilderness. Meerkat Timon (Billy Eichner) and warthog Pumbaa (Seth Rogen) care for him until adulthood. Simba’s old friend (and eventual spouse) Nala (Beyoncé) crosses his path and relays how Scar ravaged the kingdom of natural resources. Simba (then voiced by Donald Glover) is resistant to the idea of returning home, and feels responsible for Mufasa’s death. Various happenings lead to an identity wake up call for him, and he ultimately challenges Scar’s rule.
 
Director Jon Favreau’s 2019 The Lion King (screenplay by Jeff Nathanson) is mostly faithful to its root text. Many revisions have a clear objective and/or magnify story elements. If there was going to be any similarity to Ritchie’s Aladdin, it could be with strengthening the presence of female leads. Nathanson gives Nala a more nuanced and empowering arc. We see her develop and hash out a grudge with principal hyena Shenzi (Florence Kasumba), and ascend to primacy among the lionesses. She tries to respect the elders in the pack, but becomes impatient with their docility with Scar. She arouses them to fiercely take back their land. Beyoncé does surprisingly well blending in with the rest of the voice cast (Shahadi Wright Joseph portrays young Nala). I’ll admit I doubted her ability to do this, considering her distinctly deep and American Southern accent. There are times where you can tell she’s being careful with her enunciation, but it isn’t distracting.
 
Scar and Shenzi were given extra shading. 1994’s Scar is venomous, but his haughtiness and facetiousness put an attracting glimmer around his shadows. In 2019, he’s reserved, less saucy and his quips are bitter jabs, as opposed to humorous. Ejiofor brings Scar’s acidity and boiling resentment to the surface with his breathy and distressed delivery. Unreciprocated affections are tacked on to the list of things Scar is peeved about, as an infatuation with Mufasa’s wife Sarabi (Alfre Woodard) is intriguingly included. Previously, Shenzi was ill-intentioned, but too uproarious (as only Whoopi Goldberg, who was behind the mic then, can be) to hate. Her update is decidedly diabolical, and no matter is a laughing one. What prevents these character modifications from being a total buzz kill is their apparent purpose. Scar and Shenzi (and her troupe) are unmistakably ominous and scary. The hyenas are convincing as a threat, whereas before, you couldn’t take them seriously. This effect is why you might tolerate Scar’s divo snobbery and some of the hyena banter going missing.

Album Review by Eddie J., Contributing Writer
 
Likes: Cruel Summer, Death By A Thousand Cuts, False God, You Need to Calm Down
Dislikes: Cornelia Street, Me!, The Man
Overall: Overwhelmingly bright and 80's reminiscent; a somewhat disjointed album with enjoyable (though not infectious) pop tracks and ballads
 
Taylor Swift's new album Lover indicates a shift in her vantage point from her last release Reputation, which was notably scathing towards past boyfriends, her former label Big Machine Records, and the Kim-Ye phone-gate scandal. Joyful staccato chords rhythmically ring from a grand piano in Lover's opener "I Forgot That You Existed," as Swift sets the tone singing, "How many days did I spend thinking 'bout how you did me wrong?" The bubbly mid-tempo song resolves with, "It isn't love, it isn't hate, it's just indifference." If Reputation was the pain Swift endured for a night, Lover is her joy that came in the morning. While this kind of 'shift' isn't a new phenomena with artists, it's always gratifying for the listener if it's done properly (e.g. Marvin Gaye's political What's Going On? was followed by the sensual Let's Get It On). The record's theme is one of varying degrees of love:  platonic, familial, self, and of course, romantic (which is in the driver's seat majority of the time).
 
Musically, the bulk of Lover can be described as 'summertime in the 80's,' with synths, percussive bass lines, and major chords galore. Swift's predilection for this nostalgic sound works for her here, just as it did on 1989. It separates her from the current trend of blending pop with trap hip-hop (something she flirted with on Reputation), and it reintroduces her extensive use of an acoustic guitar. She doesn't deliver an over-saturation of cliché commercial ditties, as the album's singles and her previous history would suggest, however. "Death By A Thousand Cuts" is probably the most experimental track, merging classical choral arrangements with folksy acoustic guitars, and arpeggiating harps. All evolve verse to verse, while Taylor holds the fort vocally and lyrically. "False God" casually mixes a jazzy sax riff with mid-tempo electro elements and sparse synthesizers, as if the combination is commonplace. "Soon You'll Get Better," featuring background harmonies by The Dixie Chicks, is a stripped-bare country ballad, with only guitars, banjos and vocals. It's the most personal cut, depicting Swift's emotional state during her mother's battle with cancer. The album as a whole effortlessly changes tempo and musical trajectory through each number, giving the perception that it's shorter than the overwhelming 18 tracks it contains. In addition, many of the songs are around three minutes in length and don't drag on longer than necessary (aside from “Cornelia Street”). This works in the LP's favor, as the compositions are largely straightforward loops that can get very redundant after awhile. 
 
As to be expected, Swift's lyricism is exceptional. Her colorful and imagery-laden illustrations are conflated with her emotions in each song, such as being "drunk in the back of the car," while crying "like a baby"  to reflect her desperation in "Cruel Summer." Nothing is poorly written outside of "Me!," even if the music or melodies don't hold the rest up, like in "The Man." There's not a lot of new ground covered topically, so it stands out when Swift leans towards social or controversial subjects, which seems to be her intention. The concept of "False God" is one of her most daring. Lines like "Religion's in your lips; even if it's a false god, we'd still worship," are sure to rile up Bible Belt Swifties. Resounding excerpts like the harmonized "Shade never made anybody less gay!" on "You Need To Calm Down," and "I'd get there quicker if I was a man" on "The Man" shine a light onto Swift's sociopolitical views and values. The overstated-ness in the content is an exclamation; Swift made sure not to clamor with any figurative language, so that her points are crystal clear. 
 
There aren't many drawbacks to Lover, but the few flaws are blatant. The lack of pop potency is chief among them. Swift showed with 1989 and Reputation that she was capable of creating infectious pop, and crafting a highly cohesive concept album. 1989 had quite a bit of filler, but the songs that weren't (i.e. "Style," "Shake It Off," and "Bad Blood") attached themselves to your subconscious mind after one listen. Reputation had the same contagious quality and conceived a dark, stirring ambiance (ex. "Look What You Made Me Do," "Gorgeous," "End Game"). Lover has a couple of songs that can get stuck in your head, but only after several listens. The wonder of a Taylor Swift pop album is how she brilliantly pairs relatable and clever lyricism with catchy melodies, and has a full-fledged production team to complete the package. With this project, the wonder is replaced with a formulaic approach. Swift's musicality is very particular and arguably limited, so her work will seem "run of the mill" when both infectiousness and an intriguing concept are missing.

Warning: This review contains SPOILERS.

​One by one, Disney’s given live-action makeovers to their classic films, and 1992’s Aladdin is the latest to get that treatment. Each adaptation announcement stirs up excitement from audiences, but there’s also an anxiety and skepticism that expectations won’t be met. When it comes to remakes, viewers tend to look for three things: 1) nostalgia, 2) improved story-telling, and 3) application of today’s technology and/or cultural atmosphere. The 2019 edition of Aladdin (directed by Guy Ritchie; screenplay by Ritchie and John August) fulfills all three criteria a medium amount. That said, you’ll likely leave the theater content, but it’s equally likely there’ll be an undercurrent of disappointment.
 
Not that you’ll need this plot summary, but just for good measure: Aladdin (Mena Massoud) is an impoverished young man, whose life turns around when he finds a mystical lamp that inhabits a Genie (Will Smith). He’s allotted three wishes. He hopes to woo his city’s (the fictitious Arabian Agrabah’s) Princess Jasmine (Naomi Scott), who has her own problems. She’s regularly monitored by palace guards, and is being made to marry to retain her sovereign status. Meanwhile Jafar (Marwan Kenzari), her father’s right hand man, is secretly determined to reign.
 
Misguided casting is often the first thing to threaten a recreation project. In this case, the characterizations of the fictional alter egos were the trouble. Many Disney tales include talking animal friends with splashy personalities. They carry the humor and compliment their human companions. They’re usually positioned peripherally, but they’re essential. In Aladdin, these pet pals were the petulant and mischievous monkey Abu, and the devious and obnoxiously loud parrot Iago. Part of the thrill of a live-action rendering is seeing fantasy elements (like a mouthy monkey) become tangible. Ritchie squandered the opportunity for this. He and his team heavily focused on aesthetic realism, sucking the pizzazz out of Abu and Iago. There was a similar effect in 2017's Beauty & The Beast (you can read my review here).
 
Royal vizier Jafar is an antagonist in name only. His presentation is entirely too subtle, having none of the menacing or magnetic qualities of his cartoon predecessor. When I was younger, I had nightmares about Jafar for years. Kids now are more liable to be scared of Santa Claus than Kenzari’s copy. The character’s allure lies within his shady wit. He does things like deliberately mispronounce Aladdin’s name, and use the guy’s signature song (i.e. “Prince Ali”) to expose and humiliate him. You wonder if Kenzari's’s incarnation is even capable of making a chicken joke. 

​Album Review.
Likes: A No No, The Distance, Portrait
Dislikes: One Mo' Gen
Overall: An atypical MC album; passively executed with lukewarm appeal
 
In the 2010’s, it’s been relatively easy to identify quality or top-tier albums in pop and R&B. They are few and far between, as the proverbial bar has lowered over the years. The sound production is frequently skimpy, wearyingly redundant, and without musicality. Lyrics are egregiously mindless, tacky and casual. Cohesion and consistency are almost nonexistent. The talent is so underdeveloped and ill-fostered, they don’t have the skills to compensate for the other shortcomings. In the end, all you have are records that consist of filler and "cute for the moment" tunes with no enduring power.

​An artist of Mariah Carey’s caliber and experience has enough tools in the box to avoid such potholes. Her writing has always been clever and/or poetic, and required a dictionary (she rarely receives proper credit for this). Her sensibilities with vocal and musical composition keep her work effortlessly timeless and irresistible. That said, it’s confounding that Carey’s newest album Caution fits snugly with post-2010 mediocrity. Romantic desire and lust (with a pinch of disgruntlement) are primary subjects, but the slipshod track order constipates the flow of the content and sound. It prevents a feel for theme, especially one worthy of the LP’s provocative title.
 
Additionally, the most marketable numbers (A.K.A. the promotional singles) are all pushed to the front. This brings attention to the palatability and sustainability issues. Though some songs have mood, attractive traits and $20.00 words, their monotony and/or $0.02 phrasing are overtaking. For example, “Giving Me Life” (featuring Slick Rick and Blood Orange) is noticeably sullen, has an ominous transition, and a curious voice-over from the 1983 film Trading Places. Despite that intrigue, it drones on. You may not make it through to its sixth minute. Otiose F-bombs further diminish cuts already suffering from some hum-drum (ex. “With You”). “Portrait” is a conceptual and stylistic misfit against the other tracks. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was meant for a different project. Its presence is welcomed, however, as it best represents Carey’s pen prowess. Co-writers include Bibi Bourelly, Charles Hinshaw and Priscilla Renea. Some who also functioned as producers are Nineteen85, DJ Mustard, Timbaland and The Stereotypes.  
 
8/10 times, a Mariah Carey record will provide selections to delight in for years to come: evocative singles, songs you wish were singles, and those that will be the center of “most underrated” debates. Caution unfortunately falls in that 2/10 ratio. The half hearted and shambolic execution put it there.