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Charles Barkley is about as qualified to speak on race as LeBron James is to be Sophia Vergara’sstunt double; as ready as singer K. Michelle is to be U.S. ambassador to Kazakhstan; as Ben Carson is ready to be president. Unfortunately, none of that matters to U.S. media. All that matters is Charles Barkley is 1) famous, and 2), a Black man willing to articulate the sentiment of your average white male conservative who may or may not sound more like a typical white supremacist. So when asked to opine on the latest musings of the former NBA player turned sports analyst and race scholar, I instantly had a greater appreciation for day drinkers.

In response to a radio interview in which he claimed that those who torched buildings in anger in Ferguson are “scumbags,” Sir Charles did yet another interview with CNN’s Brooke Baldwin. There, Barkley argued yet another falsehood: That white cops are not out to shoot Black people because of racism.

First, Barkley explained, “We never discuss race in this country until something bad happens.” He is a Black man and son of the south. When has their ever been a time when America was not bad in terms of its treatment of Black people?

In any event, Barkley added, “Everybody wants to protect their own tribe, whether they are right or wrong.” I imagine this is the part where I’m supposed to feel sad and cue “Why Can’t We Be Friends?” in my head. Pass.

Then Barkley proceeds to prove he is Bill Cosby’s understudy by condemning his own people for the amusement of others:

“We as Black people, we have a lot of crooks. We can’t just wait until something like (the Brown shooting) happens. We have to look at ourselves in the mirror. There is a reason that they racially profile us in the way they do. Sometimes it is wrong, and sometimes it is right.”

Well, there are crooks in every community, only some are prosecuted at higher rates than others. See: white collar criminals, those who brought this country to its knees on Wall Street, and any other crook you can think of that’s white.

Also, there is a reason why Black people are racially profiled: It’s called racism. It’s never right and it’s usually misguided.

If one is serious about solving crime – particularly in poorer communities – treating people as subhuman is not the solution; rather, it is another symptom of what seems to be an incurable disease in America.

Investing in communities is the answer. Having police who actually care about the communities they are policing is another. What Charles Barkley is saying is a bunch of nonsense that only makes sense to him and others who are out of touch –antiquated view-holding somebodies who ought to be quiet and let more informed people speak instead.

Read the rest at NewsOne.

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Now that he’s gotten away with fatally shooting the unarmed Black teenager Michael Brown, Darren Wilson has started to step out in order to tell “his side of the story.” Similarly, other public figures are doing their part to ultimately assist Wilson in the shared goal of humanizing him. It’s an exercise in futility.

In a single interview Darren Wilson appears no less the monster many of us have pegged him to be, based on his actions and the ridiculous testimony he gave the grand jury in defense of it. If anything, we’re only more angered by the defiance he continued to display in his interview with ABC News’ George Stephanopoulos.

Wilson disparages the area where he shot Michael Brown and let his dead body rot in the streets for several hours for residents to see yet assures Stephanopoulous that there is no racial bias, arguing “Ferguson loves Ferguson.” There is no remorse for what he did as he explains that when it comes to the federal investigation into his actions, “I stand by what I did. I stand by my training, and just have to wait and see what they determine.”

Darren Wilson’s lawyers also make clear that he will not apologize to Michael Brown’s family. One member of his four-person legal team, James Towey, argued to The Washington Post, “Even if he gave the most heartfelt apology, they’d still not like it.” Maybe not, but an attempt to make an act of contrition is a testament to one’s character.

The entire scope of the article is to make us feel bad for Darren Wilson’s life following him ending the life of Michael Brown. He can no longer be a cop. He has become “the poster child for bad race relations.” He lives in hiding.

Boo hoo, blah, blah, I don’t give a damn.

At least he’s alive. He’s married, he’s got a baby on the way, and he’s secured both a nice retirement package and in excess of a million dollars from donations. People have rewarded him for taking the life of an unarmed Black teenager.

And thanks to one biased special prosecutor and his team of police-loving, equally morally bankrupt flunkies, Darren Wilson won’t even be charged for his crimes in the state of Missouri.

Forgive me if it’s hard to feel sorry for him.

Read more at NewsOne.

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Even fair weather fans of Robin Thicke have long known that Alan Thicke’s boy had a huge crush on Marvin Gaye’s music. Before “Blurred Lines” took over radio and various cookouts across the country last year, he was releasing albums like 2008’s Something Else, which could’ve also been titled Vanilla Latte Marvin Gaye. Thicke has been doing this, only never to the success he secured with his now lawsuit-spawning massive hit.

However, thanks to the newly exposed depositions as part of the lawsuit filed by Gaye’s children against the “Blurred Lines” architects – Thicke, Pharrell Williams, and T.I. – we now know that Thicke lied about the songs conception. Claiming the stories he told the press last year were sponsored by Vicodin and alcohol, Thicke clarified by explaining,

I was jealous and I wanted some of the credit … I tried to take credit for it later because [Williams] wrote the whole thing pretty much by himself and I was envious of that.

Robin did what many contemporary singers do these days: add their name to the songwriting credits for the sake of appearances and publishing checks. When asked about this, Pharrell noted,

This is what happens every day in our industry. You know, people are made to look like they have much more authorship in the situation than they actually do. So that’s where the embellishment comes in.

And if Pharrell is comfortable with that and allowing Thicke to collect 18 to 22 percent of publishing royalties, so be it. As for as the Gaye family’s lawsuit, that is for the courts and possibly Gaye’s ghost to decide. What frustrates me most about this new twist to the story though, is that Pharrell once again spewed that post-racial, Yoda-like nonsense about race – only now under oath.

When trying to break down what exactly makes Marvin Gaye’s “Got To Give It Up” different from “Blurred Lines,” Pharrell said:

Because it’s the white man singing soulfully and we, unfortunately, in this country don’t get enough — we don’t get to hear that as often, so we get excited by it when the mainstream gives that a shot. But there’s a lot of incredibly talented white folk with really soulful vocals, so when we’re able to give them a shot — and when I say ‘we,’ I mean like as in the public gives them a shot to be heard, then you hear the Justin Timberlakes and you hear the Christina Aguileras and you hear, you know, all of these masterful voices that have just been given, you know, an opportunity to be heard because they’re doing something different.

So, Robin Thicke used his clout as an artist to collect 18 to 22 percent of royalties for a song he played no role in actually creating, but when met with a legal challenge, now suddenly wants to deflect and be honest in the name of self-interest. And even when met with a backhand shot of disloyalty, Pharrell acts as if Robin Thicke is a victim because he’s just a white man in America trying to ride the wave of Black creativity to net wealth.

This is like Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake redux, but at least Damita Jo knew what the damn deal was.

I don’t know what planet Pharrell Williams lives on, but I wish he would jump on his big ass hat and ride himself back there and spare us all from another densely worded statement about race.

Read the rest at The Urban Daily.

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Before I read any Kanye West cover story, I ask myself, “Do I have a lifejacket for all the confusion and irony that I’m surely about to sink in?”

I always assume the answer to be yes only to realize, ultimately, that I once again boarded the Titanic where my last nerve and better senses both end up being swatted to death by the iceberg that is Kanye’s psychosis.

Maybe I’m a masochist or perhaps I’m just one of those fans who, despite so much evidence to the contrary, want to believe that Kanye may be an imperfect spokesperson on various issues, but still continues to have very enlightening things to say — unlike so many of his contemporaries.

To Kanye’s credit, he did say something awfully sweet and valuable while explaining to GQ the joys of his newfound life as a husband and father.

On how both have transformed him, Kanye explained:

Because I don’t like walking around with people thinking I’m doing uncool shit, because there’s nothing I’m doing that’s uncool. It’s all innovative. You just might not understand it yet. But it’s cool. Family is super cool.

Going home to one girl every night is super cool. Just going home and getting on the floor and playing with your child is super cool. Not wearing a red leather jacket, and just looking like a dad and shit, is like super cool. Having someone that I can call Mom again. That shit is super cool.

The same way I saluted Beyoncé and Jay Z’s “On The Run” tour for making fidelity look so damn cool amidst the lingering cries about how “these hoes ain’t loyal,” I appreciate Kanye for making stable and committed relationships appear to be a necessity as opposed to a nuisance.

It’s too bad Kanye West had to soil the rest of Kanye West’s interview by being Kanye West.

When discussing the burden of celebrity, Kanye made the mistake of comparing treatment of today’s stars to those of Blacks in the 1960s. Yes, in Yeezy’s mind our celebrities are “being treated like Blacks were in the ’60s, having no rights, and the fact that people can slander your name.”

Every bit of self-respecting Black in me wants to holler at him the way he yelled at Sway for not having the answers.

This isn’t the first time he’s used that false equivalence to state his case either. In September, Kanye had this to say about the state of radio in a BBC interview with Zane Lowe, “I was talking to Frank Ocean about this and said, like, my mom got arrested for the sit-ins, and now we’re more like the sit-outs, like sit off of radio, and say, ‘Hey, radio, come to us.’”

I’m assuming the ancestors have ignored my request to haunt Kanye in his dreams for these self-important and audaciously asinine analogies.

Fine, but can someone please tell Kanye West — he who likes to lament about racism — to stop trivializing the experiences of the very people who paved the way for him to foolishly blurt out nonsense for the amusement of mainstream outlets?

Read the rest at Elite Daily.

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Writers like Bob Kravitz and Cindy Boren are correct in their assessment that when it comes the controversial comments former Indianapolis Colts head coach-turned-NBC commentator Tony Dungy made about Michael Sam, none of us should be surprised.

After all, Dungy’s opposition to homosexuality and the religious beliefs he cites as an excuse for them are common knowledge. Years ago, while accepting the “Friend of Family” award from the Indiana Family Institute – an anti-gay organization guised itself as some place of solace for those clamoring for the resurgence of the “traditional” family – Dungy expressed support of the group’s push for an amendment banning gay marriage (which is presently in legal limbo).

Dungy said: “We’re not trying to downgrade anyone else. But we’re trying to promote the family — family values the Lord’s way. Family is important, and that’s what we’re trying to support. We’re not anti-anything else and not trying to hate anyone else. We’re trying to promote the family, family values, the Lord’s way. Just like I’m trying to win on the football field the Lord’s way. I’m on the Lord’s side when I’m on the field, and on the Lord’s side when I’m off the field.”

Picture it: Me, rolling my eyes profusely, calling out to God asking why the Lord won’t hire a better publicist than these boils on the butt of human decency?

Mind you, the Indiana Family Institute is the same group that once protested the Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department’s decision to participant in the city’s LGBT pride parade by claiming, ”They don’t sign up for gay pride parades and all that entails with men in police uniforms being howled at by homosexuals.” The adage “you are who you hang with” proves true, so no, it’s not exactly shocking to hear Dungy tell the Tampa Tribune that when it comes to drafting openly gay Michael Sam, “I wouldn’t have taken him. Not because I don’t believe Michael Sam should have a chance to play, but I wouldn’t want to deal with all of it.”

It doesn’t make the comments any less repulsive, though.

Likewise, Dungy’s “clarification” couldn’t be any less useless given all he did was repeat the exact same sentiment in virtually the same language. I’m glad Michael Sam doesn’t especially care about Dungy’s remarks, but I do think they warrant challenging. And when I say challenging, I don’t mean everyone channeling Stephanie Tanner and fixing their mouths to say “HOW RUDE!” in some act of PC Policing. Rather, I want someone to hit the Tony Dungys of the world with their own inconsistent interpretation of the world.

Even if they are a dying breed as the marriage equality movement continues to rack up state-by-state wins, it tap dances my last nerve that Dungy’s ilk get to spew their anti-gay rhetoric and then hide under the veil of religion when called upon it. As I noted in a previous essay on Sherri Shepherd explaining how many Christians grow up believing that homosexuality is a sin and that gays go to hell, there needs to be greater pushback with respect to theology. Let Tony Dungy and his friends at the Indiana Family Institute tell it, when they’re out fighting to keep gays from marrying, Jesus is somewhere on the field with his pom-poms going “GO, TEAM GO!”

This isn’t the case, and for the millionth time, if we want to go tit-for-tat on Biblically-based damnation, someone hand me a rock so that I might toss it at Tony Dungy’s head ‘cause he should’ve been stoned to death for working on the Sabbath.

And when we talk about family in “the Lord’s way,” what type of family is that? Is the one where you get to eat your kids (Jeremiah 19:9), murder them if they curse at their parents (Exodus 21:17), and sell your daughter into slavery (Exodus 21:7)?

Read more at EBONY.

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Dear Azealia Banks:

I wish I could start this off with Tyra Banks’ “WE WERE ROOTING FOR YOU! WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU!” Fact is, most people weren’t rooting for you because you alienated the absolute hell out of the general public over and over again with your Twitter tirades and the numerous beefs with your peers they inspired.

For a millisecond, you were the wet dream for those of us longing to see you capitalize on Nicki Minaj kicking the door back open for female rappers. Unfortunately, it didn’t take you long to basically become the Crypt Keeper of said dreams.

Oh, sis. Didn’t we almost have it all?

Now, you’re probably still on a high from being released by your former label, Universal Music. You’ve been out here tweeting “I’S IS FREE!!!!!” and comparing yourself to Miss Celie. I don’t know you’re so giddy, though. All this has done is make certain that’ll even take longer for you to release a full-fledged album. That is, if you ever do. Not to mention, your label-less life lends further credence to the theory that you’re basically Foxy Brown without the hits.

It makes me so sad that we’ll probably never catch you at the hot spot. Even sadder is that even if you kept the deal with Universal and dropped an album (finally) featuring you and Jesus’ remake of “The Whisper Song,” it’d still only get nominal attention, because again, so many people curse the day you were allowed Internet access.

Read the rest at EBONY.

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Funny how time flies when you’re having fun enjoying the peak of your professional success while your personal life takes a private jet to total and utter failure, huh? I’ve read about your low first week sales of your please, baby, please-please-please-please-themed album Paula – about 24,000 in the U.S. and the embarrassingly low 533 copies in the UK, respectively.  As far as the new music and the publicity campaign launched in support of it goes, like I mentioned recently, I look forward to the Law & Order: SVU episode it’ll inspire. With that said, Paula Patton is gone so let’s focus on something you might be able to recover: your relevance as the White Mike of R&B.

I know as an artiste, you felt compelled to take your pain and use it to fuel your creative process. I don’t take issue with that as much as other people do, but I do agree at the core that your methodology is off. The same goes for the music, which you admittedly recorded in about a month. You know, this may be very laptop label head of me to say, but perhaps you’ve should’ve taken a lil’ longer to work on Paula.

Say, about as long as it takes for the cable company to finally cut off your service for failure to pay the bill. That’s like three months, right? Yeah, that would’ve been sufficient enough time. Then maybe you could’ve called Pharrell, Jazmine Sullivan, Nicki Minaj, Faith Evans, Lil’ Wayne and other previous collaborators to spruce this project up. Or hell, you could’ve tapped a psychic to help you ask Marvin Gaye for advice. That is, if he’s not somewhere in the afterlife cursing you smooth out.

In the interest of fairness, you were going to suffer a decline even if you got Aaliyah to sing the hook on your first post-Blurred Lines single. You essentially fell into the success you experienced last year, so in some ways, it’s shrewd of you to release an album that was going to bomb so you can chalk it up as a “passion project.” However, you went a wee bit to far with this simpin’, pimpin’ so let me help you with your next steps.

It may be too late for you to win back the Black woman you married, but try very, very hard to win back the Black women who you desperately need to stay afloat. I bet that mainstream success felt good for a while, but unless you want to become the white SisQó, you best let that go and chase the TV One-watching demographic that’s kept you in business all these years. Right now, most of them seem less than impressed with both you and your material. Singing about a Black woman’s alleged suicide attempt will spur that sort of resentment.

Suffice to say, you’ve got to stop acting like a singing street harasser. That said in the very immediate future, here’s what you need to do mostly: go the hell away for a while. After you finish your contractual obligations to promote this album no one is going to buy, go sit down somewhere and be quiet. Don’t do anymore interviews or take anymore questions online. As a matter of fact, the only person who should be allowed to ask you a question anytime soon is your divorce attorney.

While you sit down somewhere in silence, plan out your next moves. Email all of those people I mentioned and start sending them ideas. You can sing about sex because sex is amazing, but do not sing any line that could be determined as “rapey.” The last thing your career reads right now is another thinkpiece demanding that your balls be sawed off and thrown in the lake in honor of basic decency.

Read the rest at EBONY

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Given it’s been a minute since there’s been a new edition of The Weekly Read, I’m feeling generous, thus, treating y’all to a three for one. Consider this the literary equivalent of the Popeye’s Tuesday special, only I ate your biscuit and I don’t apologize for it. You didn’t need those carbs no way. In any event, this is an R&B dude themed starring The Alvin and the Chipmunks of R&B: Trey Songz as Alvin, Luke James playing the role of Simon, and Chris Brown giving a great impression of Theodore. And that’s no shade ‘cause I look exactly like Dale from The Rescue Rangers. All three have tried it as of late, so let us pray that they get it together…well, after I read.

Trey Songz:

Oh, bae Trey. You remind me of that scene in America’s Next Top Model where Tyra yelled at Tiffany, “WE WERE ROOTING FOR YOU! WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU!” What is this Trigga album supposed to be? It’s like one long song best described as melodic misogyny. Wait, I’m being rude. You keep remaking the same three songs, and to your credit, it hasn’t exactly hurt you. Insert a body roll to “Na Na” here.

However, I feel as though you are capable of more than cornball songs about “b*tches” and vulgar sex romps – all set to the same trap beat on the new project. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate vulgarity and the sex songs they inspire, but you do remember you’re the guy who used to release songs such as “I Gotta Go” and “Can’t Help But Wait,” no?  Now you’re recording songs like “Smartphones?” Mr. Neverson, you have got to let “LOL :)” and “Say Aah” go. They were cute – for some people – but that’s done.

Also, we’re the same age, which means you’re entering your 30s this year so one would hope that your maturation level didn’t peak when you were in your early 20s rocking braids. You’re old enough to remember Jodeci, so you’ve got to recall that even their sex-fueled music encompassed variety. And despite my yearning to see him rot in jail and suffer a horrible depiction on Law & Order: SVU, even R. Kelly has managed to mix bumping and grinding subject matter with love songs, Sam Cooke impersonations, and fake inspirational songs that likely make Stevie Wonder go, “I mean…I guess it’s cool or whatever.”

Come on, Trigga, do better.

Luke James:

First off, Simon, let me be clear that as a Mariah Carey fan and someone who kept rewinding the opening scene of last week’s True Blood, I have no issue with miscegenation. I clocked the clap back you got on Instagram after posting a picture of your White girlfriend. Was it fair? No. People are petty, evil, and even if you personally have done nothing to them, select folks will project their issues onto you even if you’re not one of those Black men whose relationship girls are best described as “EWW, BLACK ICKY. WHITE YUMMY.”

And while you’re right about being human, which allows you to feel a ways when people come at you crazy, you are a human in 2014 i.e. do not upload anything on a public forum that is personal and may cause you to react. We all struggle with this, but as someone inching past celebrity-adjacent status, you have got to learn this lesson faster than others. Your fan base is primarily Black women, a group that very often sees the men they deem to be heartthrobs sharing their off-stage lives with women of other races—usually White ones. That is going to stir up some feelings and if you’re gonna do this fame thing, you have to handle that with grace.

Speaking of your fame, why isn’t there more of it? Forward this inquiry to your team and have them report back to me. I mean, you have a gorgeous voice and record R&B that actually sounds like R&B. And your music doesn’t scream “I hate women, especially my mommy.” You’re also not a bugawolf, so I do not understand the issue here. Is your Illuminati application on hold because you made Beyoncé mad on tour? If so, go bring her some vegan chocolate chip cookies and vegan macaroni and cheese (yes, it’s real, and it’s alright or whatever) and apologize. We gotta get you poppin’. We both know Trey Songz won’t be heeding my advice. Save us, my dude.

Chris Brown:

Breezy, unlike some folks, I have no issue with you growing your hair out and leaving the dye alone, gaining a lil’ weight and looking like the love child of Al B. Sure! and Walter Oats, but for the love of God, can you stay out of trouble?

Read the rest at EBONY.

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Whenever you pick the brain of someone like Lord Jamar about hip-hop’s ills, he’ll give you minutes-long rants about how the “feminization” of hip-hop is destroying both the culture and the Black men who contribute to it. His most recent display of this sad lil’ shtick was an interview he gave to Vlad TV earlier in the month about rapper Young Thug daring to wear something that looks an awful lot like a dress. When asked about it, the former Brand Nubian emcee flatly said, “I’m not feelin’ him. The more feminine shit that you do, the more you’re going to have to do other shit to try to prove your manhood.”

I’ve always found homophobia (which is in a deeply committed relationship with misogyny) within the hip-hop community to be especially laughable. As Aaron McGruder used to routinely point out in the pre-TV days of The Boondocks, this is a genre of music in which its biggest stars are greased muscle men instructing other men to suck their dicks. On top of that, many of these guys are adorned in so much jewelry you’d think Liberace had a bunch of unidentified bastard seeds. Meanwhile, a common narrative of rap is, was, and perhaps may always will be to drive home the point that women—excuse me, bitches—ain’t shit.

We are collectively a very He-Man woman hating society, though, so I can’t dismiss Lord Jamar as some sort of outlier like a Five Percenter or one of those Black Israelites who every Sunday on 125th and Lenox disparage Islamic men for wearing “dresses” and, like Lord Jamar, act as if femininity is some terrorist organization hell bent on the annihilation of Black men.

Yes, Lord Jamar may be one of the harsher and outspoken critics of the “feminization” of Black men, but he’s no less guilty than many of the other people who griped over Kid Cudi wearing a crop top at Coachella. The same goes for those who roasted Kanye West for wearing a kilt. Sure, you could sweep some of the critics aside as “jokes,” but it all ultimately plays into the sentiment that when you are a man—particularly a Black one—you are limited in your personal expression for the sake of preserving your manhood.

To Lord Jamar and others, manhood is a performance. One’s personal style is a part of that act and the minute you deviate from the collective acceptance of masculine ideals, you are worthy of ridicule, condemnation, or the very least, be questioned about your manhood, an all-too common occurrence that deserves re-examination.

In a piece entitled “metrosexuality is dead, thank god for that,” Anders Christian Madsen celebrates the end of the early 2000s trend and credits the likes of David Beckham, Jared Leto, and Zac Efron for showing (white) men that it’s okay to break from the mold. Similar pieces have been written in celebration of Kanye West, and perhaps over time, Kid Cudi, Young Thug, and others may receive similar accolades for doing the same for Black dudes.

This undoubtedly spooks the hell out of the Lord Jamars of the world, but what frightens me mostly is that ultimately, we’ve still yet to challenge how exactly we should judge one’s manhood.

If you are gay, you are used to the idea that some men may view you as less of a man for your attractions; however, we’ve reached the point where a straight guy could literally be swimming in a pool of vagina and he’d still be considered less of a man and boxed in because of a crop top or a kilt.

Read the rest at Complex.

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It may not seem like it, but Trey Songz has been around for almost a decade now. Of course, you’d have to remember a time when Trey had braids and managed to get Aretha Franklin and Juvenile on the same track. One assumes most cannot, as evidenced by Trey’s initial sales figures, though the singer who used to drop mixtapes under the name “Prince of Virginia” did manage to cement his status as a bona fide star with his third album, Ready. The 2009 release spawned the top-10 Hot 100 hit, “Say Ahh,” and R&B/hip-hop radio chart toppers “I Invented Sex” and “Neighbors Know My Name.”

With Trey’s new fade, bigger frame and sexual bravado set to full speed, Ready sold nearly a million copies domestically and positioned Trey as essentially the heir to R. Kelly’s (urine-soiled?) throne.

Yet, while Trey’s follow up album, Passion, Pain & Pleasure>, went on to outsell and produce another Billboard hit in “Bottoms Up” featuring Nicki Minaj, it was not the fan favorite that Ready was. For good reason: It wasn’t especially enjoyable. It was too long, poorly edited and a bit all over the place. Bobby Brown and Michael Jackson did not make all of those short-ass albums for you contemporary crooners to give us these No Limit-era R&B albums.

The same goes for 2012’s Chapter V, which sold nearly as low as Trey’s first two albums. As interesting as Trey’s thought process on club-going sounded to him at the time, I’m not entirely sure that’s the kind of song an R&B singer ought to be singing.

That’s essentially been one of Trey’s biggest problems: a lack of focus in terms of sound and identity.

Trey Songz hasn’t made his love of rapping a secret, but neither has the radio when it comes to how it feels about Trey Songz, the rapper. Quick: Name a rap song from Trey as big as any of the aforementioned hit singles? Exactly. More, while misogynistic lyrics are typical of a rapper, how far does a pretty boy who sells his love and lovemaking songs – often performed shirtless – expect to go with his huge female audience when he’s calling them a bitch every other line in a song no one asked for?

Now, only a few short months away from his sixth release, Trigga, Trey Songz ought to ask himself what might get him back to the sort of success he enjoyed with Ready.

Read the rest over at VIBE.

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