MUSIC REVIEWS
Kelis - Kelis Was Here
David Allun Jones
Kelis’ occasional American interest as always been built more on her otherworldly persona and rapped/ chanted/ screamed vocals than on her actual ability to sing. So it’s no surprise, here, that most of her fourth album finds her settled more in her “weird” role and offering up hooky quotes at every turn. The “if it ain’t broke…” method falls flat somewhere down the line, though, in the midst of poor song positioning and The Neptunes’ noticeable absence leaving Kelis Was Here her least instantly grabbing album to date.
This lengthy, seventeen track (plus one bonus cut) album continues Kelis’ dalliance with staying outside of the box and refusing to stick to one particular style. One moment you may get sweet neo-soul, the next aggressive techno-rock or mainstream-derivative punk, all memorable if only cause it’s a Black woman doing it. The problems emerge when song after song veer around drastically different from each other like a haphazard mix tape, leaving Kelis’ shaky likeability as it’s sole shred of consistency. Unlike Gwen Stefani and Nelly Furtado’s engaging personalities to thread along disparate musical influences, Kelis’ lacks that important artist-fan connection resulting in her rarely arising above being the product of whatever character the producer wishes to morph her into. And with a list of producers that include Will.I.Am, Scott Storch, Raphael Saadiq, Linda Perry, Cee Lo, Max Martin and Cool & Dre, you’re bound to get a bunch of different Kelis alter-egos coming at you all at once.
But it’s not like Kelis doesn’t try to sell some figment of herself. The chorus’ clever reference of past hits, plink-plonk keyboards and Nellyville bass waves make “Bossy” her best single to date, with Too Short’s lazy verse (“She’s fine and she’s pretty!”) adding to the records’ kitchen sink appeal. And were it not for their mature natures, the devilishly charming “Fuck Them Bitches” and “Aww Shit” would be her next radio smashes. Everything else on Kelis Was Here, however, feels either criminally underdeveloped or ill-fittingly glossy, like more time spent on them would’ve resulted in something truly groundbreaking and extraordinary. “Blindfold Me” wants to wash itself in S&M griminess (“When he want it he blindfold me/ The I get sexy on him”, she chants) but never quite reaches the nasty peaks it yearns for. Cee Lo brews up a tasty combination of 70’s folk-soul and Spanish rhythms on the inspiring “Lil’ Star”, yet Kelis’ hoarse murmurs and PBS lessons blunt the song’s appeal. The less said about “Have A Nice Day”’s questionable six-and-a-half minute descent into salsa madness (even in it’s exotic sparkle), the better. Meanwhile, Pharrell and Chad are nowhere to be found, but their robo-soul template remains alive. Other knob-twiddlers adopt their signature spaced out beats well, powering the album’s better cuts (“Till The Wheel Falls Off”, “Trilogy”, “Goodbyes”) but the joy of inspired lunacy and anything-goes vigor that Kelis shares with the Neptunes is lost on these obvious knock-offs..
On previous discs, Kelis came close to dropping that signature album to perfectly project her odd-ball characteristics, but Kelis Was Here’s wacked out exhibit finds her disastrously backpedaling without any real direction, only reaffirming the long accepted notion that she is unlike any other.
