Saturday, December 23, 2006

2006, The Year Pop Music Got Really Raunchy

 
2006, The Year Pop Music Got Really Raunchy
By KELEFA SANNEH
The New York Times
Music Commentary

(Dec. 21) -- Now that 2006 is just about over, maybe we all need a nice hot bath. Or a cold shower. The former boy-bander Justin Timberlake  brought “SexyBack,” while the formerly earnest Nelly Furtado  was reborn as a “promiscuous girl.” Akon  crooned “I Wanna Love You,” which sounds innocent until you hear the album version. And on Web sites everywhere, the words Britney and Spears have recently been accompanied by the letters N, S, F and W. (As in: not safe for work, unless you work for Larry Flynt.) You could be forgiven for thinking that the world of pop music is smuttier than ever.

But look again. The year’s top-selling CD won’t be some lascivious R&B album; it will probably be “High School Musical,” the soundtrack to the Disney Channel movie of the same name, which sold about 3.6 million copies. Billboard calculates from November to November, and it declared the top seller to be “Some Hearts” (Arista Nashville), by the wholesome country singer (and “American Idol” winner) Carrie Underwood . The only other 2006 CD that comes close is another inoffensive country album, “Me and My Gang” (Lyric Street), by Rascal Flatts .

Even hip-hop — which generally deserves (and cherishes) its reputation for foul-mouthedness — has been relatively tame this year. The charts were full of playful, though not quite squeaky-clean, dance tracks like “Shoulder Lean” (Young Dro), “It’s Goin’ Down” (Yung Joc) and “We Fly High” (Jim Jones ), all accompanied by their own G-rated dance moves. This was the year of kid-tested, parent-approved hip-hop hits like “Chicken Noodle Soup” (by a couple of teenagers, DJ Webstar and Young B) and “Chain Hang Low” (by Jibbs, who turned 16 last month). And “Shortie Like Mine,” the latest single by the not-quite-grown-up rapper Bow Wow , formerly Lil Bow Wow , has hit No. 1 on Billboard’s Hot Rap Tracks chart. His new album, “The Price of Fame” (Sony Urban), arrived in shops on Tuesday, without a Parental Advisory sticker, and it is all but certain to make an impressive debut on next week’s charts.

For all those who bemoan the coarsening of popular music (not to mention the dear, perverse souls who celebrate the same), this year’s sales figures complicate the story. Is it possible that our favorite records are getting dirtier and cleaner at the same time?

To an enterprising music executive this paradox is no paradox at all. If the number of lascivious pop hits grows, so too does the number of listeners looking for something more Mickey Mouse Club, less strip club. And if it turns out that young consumers — and their parents — are more willing to pay for CDs than teenagers are, that might help explain why the market for family-friendly music still looks pretty healthy.

Many rappers have a hard time catering to this market. When he first emerged, Lil Bow Wow  hardly seemed designed to please parents. He was discovered by Snoop Dogg , who arranged for him to appear on “Doggystyle,” Snoop Dogg’s debut album. Lil Bow Wow  uttered a memorable phrase that you won’t be reading in these pages; the album was released in late 1993, half a year after his sixth birthday.

A few years later Lil Bow Wow  teamed up with Jermaine Dupri , a producer who had already turned Kriss Kross into kiddie-rap stars. In 2000 Mr. Dupri was the executive producer of Lil Bow Wow’s hit debut album, “Beware of Dog” (So So Def/Sony), packaged with a sticker that said, “Good for all ears — all ages.” (It has sold about 2.7 million copies in the United States.) Lil Bow Wow  split with Mr. Dupri, lost the Lil and reunited with Mr. Dupri; he also outsold many of his more mature hip-hop peers. The last Bow Wow  album, 2005’s “Wanted” (Sony Urban), has sold about a million copies; in the current climate that’s a solid figure.

“Shortie Like Mine” also features the 17-year-old R&B star Chris Brown  and the singer-songwriter-producer Johntá Austin. It’s a pleasant, lightweight slow jam, with a video that trades on Bow Wow’s status as a clean-cut young heartthrob. Performance scenes are interspersed with scenes of Bow Wow  shirtless but alone; at the end, when he finally heads over to his girlfriend’s house, he encounters her father, played by Rev. Run from Run-DMC; at Rev. Run’s request, Bow Wow  humbly doffs his bandana.

Bow Wow  doesn’t want to be thought of as a kid. It can’t be a coincidence that “Shortie Like Mine” finds him uttering a familiar racial epithet twice, though the utterances — along with others — are elided on the album. In the first song on “The Price of Fame” he name-drops grown-up rappers as if he were eager to be included in their company: Dem Franchize Boyz, Young Jeezy , Lil Wayne, the Notorious B.I.G.  And in “4 Corners,” Bow Wow’s version of a rowdy Southern posse cut, Lil Scrappy and other guests deliver tough (and, when necessary, censored) guest verses.
But what’s most surprising about “The Price of Fame” is how un-grown-up Bow Wow  sounds, especially when you consider that he will soon be the same age (20, in March) that Tupac  Shakur was when he released his world-weary debut, “2pacalaypse Now.” Bow Wow  has a nimble enough flow, precise even when he’s rapping in double-time, but his verses (many ghostwritten) don’t have much flavor. And despite the ludicrous pictures in the booklet (including one of him scowling beneath an interrogation lamp), this album seems designed to appeal to people younger than the guy who made it. Bow Wow  hasn’t quite grown up.

And why on earth would he want to? He has built a solid, profitable franchise as a child star. And in a year when lots of rappers have had to confront disappointing sales figures, Bow Wow  still commands a loyal audience of young fans. He could do worse than to keep them happy.

Copyright © 2006 The New York Times Company
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