It’s been three years now since Janelle Monae released her debut EP, and ears perked up left and right. Then she was picked up by P. Diddy’s Bad Boy label, her EP was re-released the following year, and Monae was effectively hailed as the next big thing in soul music. Then she promptly disappeared, leaving anticipation to grow over when she would resurface, and whether or not she would be able to make do on the immense promise shown on The Chase. Finally, her debut full-length The ArchAndroid has arrived, and it doesn’t just live up to every single expectation amassed over the last three years, this sprawling album absolutely dwarfs not just her previous work, but everything in the neo-soul genre as well.

Gotta love that hat.

The most astounding quality of ArchAndroid isn’t the incredibly broad scope of ambition so much as the fact that she’s able to do all of it. Well… most of it. Make the Bus, her collaboration with Of Montreal, does prove to be ill-conceived for the simple fact that the indie group is clearly out of their element and they simply don’t mesh. Still, that’s one failed experiment against seventeen wildly successful ones, some more than others feeling like complete and utter long shots (how she got 60s folk and modern R&B to blend so brilliantly on Oh, Maker or 57821 is a mystery and a half), but all yielding spectacular results. Mushrooms & Roses and Wondaland takes a strong psychedelia sound and turn it into Monae’s own soulful hybrid. The mournful Say You’ll Go culminates in a beautifully placed sampling of Claude Debussy’s Claire de Lune. Come Alive (The War of the Roses) sounds more like the Stray Cats than they themselves ever did, and she even does it better to boot. Closer BaBopByeYa genre-hops like mad over the course of nearly nine minutes, from jazz to classic vocal pop to opera in Spanish (!), but with such smooth transitions that it all feels the same.

WHOA.

What’s even more impressive is that the ArchAndroid, for all its experimentation, is pure pop in execution. Even the most challenging songs never alienate the listener, and still feel right at home nestled against the singles, the heavily funk-laced Cold War and Tightrope (with a very charismatic Big Boi). While Monae’s ambition is daunting to say the least, she never reaches beyond her grasp, and the songs never feel overwrought or pompous. This is why, as much as it really should, The ArchAndroid doesn’t once feel like a shambled mess of ideas.

While the music is stellar all across the board, Monae herself tops it all not just with how great her voice is, but how versatile it is as well. There’s that soulful wail on the singles, but Monae can just as capably adopt an understated croon or passionate scream, and she goes from rapping to gentle harmonization with ridiculous ease. On the first suite (ArchAndroid is divided into two), all of these are used to outstanding effect, and the songs flow splendidly, from the lively Dance or Die and Faster through the serene and calming Sir Greendown to the raucous singles and concluding with the aforementioned Oh, Maker and Mushrooms & Roses. The second suite doesn’t move quite as smoothly, largely because of a lesser pop influence and the disruptive Make the Bus, but sounds no less creative and is really just a slight dip in quality.

The ArchAndroid is fearlessly adventurous and creative, and shows an exciting new voice in music making a name for herself. It’s been quite a while since something this ambitious has been so accessible and easy to enjoy, and Janelle Monae hasn’t just nailed her intended sound, she may well have laid out the blueprint for the future of  R&B.

There aren’t too many avenues artists can go down after producing something that borders on a master work. They can try to top it, though this seldom works, and more often than not makes the follow up feel even more disappointing than it might have in the first place. Another option is to accept the peak, but rather than opt to go out on a high note, simply take a step sideways and try something different. The jaw dropping New Amerykah Part One (4th World War) put Soulquarian Erykah Badu in such a predicament. It was easily the soul album of 2008, with huge doses of pretty much everything great: Amazing lyrics, fantastic, eclectic beats, and of course Badu herself sounded excellent, as always. But what to do next? How was she going to follow that up? The same way that she followed up her brilliant, neo-soul pionering debut Baduizm – taking a step sideways and trying something different.

Never answer the door while on acid.

Musically speaking, New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh) has a slightly similar approach to its predecessor, particularly in the eclecticism of its beats. The chief difference, really, is the overall tone. Maybe it’s the satisfaction of having produced another stone cold classic, but Badu sounds far more content here than on (especially) Amerykah Part One. Firstly, the politically charged spirit is gone, replaced with more musings on romance and love in general. The sweet Gone Baby, Don’t Be Long beautifully captures that first parting moment with a new lover with lines like “I feel like a girl with the faintest crush” and “I can’t wait to see what you do, it’s not too much to follow you through.” Even the frustration in the brilliant single Window Seat comes across as gentle, much like its equally brilliant and controversial music video, which incidentally multiplied my respect for her tenfold.

In some places she just sounds like she’s having a great time, and there’s a bit of joking throughout as well. Turn Me Away (Get MuNNY) playfully references Junior M.A.F.I.A.’s 90′s hit, Get Money, and there’s also its charming intro, with Badu herself asking “What’s the matter, is he drunk? ….yeah, he’s drunk.”  It ends with quick banter among the musicians, something else that would have been vastly out of place on Amerykah Part One, particularly next to the helpless helium voices and furious Peter Finch Network recitation. There’s humor to be found in the tracks themselves, as well. She sounds so coy when she sings “It’s gonna be some slow singing and flower bringing, if my burglar alarm starts…” on Fall in Love (Your Funeral) that you can’t help but smile back at her. There’s also the line “You’re loving me, and I’m fucking your friend,” on the jazzy You Loving Me (Session) interlude, which is followed by a chuckling “that’s terrible, isn’t it..”

Believe it or not, the first thing this picture made me think was "Holy shit, Bruce Lee!"

New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh) isn’t as immediate or powerful as the first. It needs a while to grow through multiple listens, but it blooms wonderfully. It’s a more personal record, but much less intense, and with the same great music, lyrics, and vocals we’ve come to expect from Badu. It doesn’t quite reach the heights that her last did, but that’s hardly a criticism. New Amerykah Part Two is a great album by any measure – soulful, inviting, and easy to love; as good a way to follow up a masterpiece as any.

A heavy emphasis on sex isn’t exactly a unique approach in R&B. The very nature of the genre, in fact, evokes sexual imagery perhaps more than any other – hell, songs like Ginuwine’s Pony absolutely ooze it, and that’s a large part of what makes them so great. Occasionally however, some artists will overshoot in their attempts to be sexy, which makes the aim painfully obvious and renders the effort an utter failure. Justin Timberlake’s Future Sex/Love Sounds is a perfect example of this; past the fact that this album was good almost entirely because of Timbaland’s production, Timberlake has absolutely no real charisma. And when he’s constantly talking about sex over the course of a twelve song LP (with the exception of downright embarrassing attempts to make statements, like Losing My Way), it just begins to look over the top and silly. A number of male R&B vocalists have fallen prey to this misstep, but Robin Thicke is one who has never had this problem. Which is all the more impressive now, because his latest, Sex Therapy, is completely devoted to it.

Parental Advisory - Axe Body Spray commercial in filming

Sex Therapy could have very easily ended up an awkwardly forced record like Future Sex/Love Sounds did at times, but Thicke, armed with some excellent beats that range from seventies soul to modern day hip-hop, pulls it off splendidly. His confidence and charm, something that has been evident since his breakthrough hit When I Get You Alone, shines through from genuinely seductive tracks like Make U Love Me and Start with a Kiss to playful and even goofy ones; Meiplé, which features Jay-Z, is a silly but simultaneously endearing idealistically romantic ode to women. It’s a real testament to his charisma that he can get away with lines like “I can pay for acting lessons, you’ll become a movie star and make more than me, babe.” From most other singers, it would sound completely ridiculous, but Thicke’s knowing and fun delivery makes it clear that he’s taking his lyrics maybe half-seriously, at best. Another good example of this is the exotic sounding I Got U, which starts out with blatant references to clichéd aphrodisiacs. The song is built around a woman visiting with him as a doctor, presumably dispensing the sex therapy the album’s title promises. In the middle, she says “My man don’t take me nowhere!” and he responds, “ah… I have just the thing for that.” In that pause, you can almost feel him giving that comical, fourth wall breaking look to the listener, like “oh yeah, I’m gonna bang this broad.” When he does cut loose and really sing though, he shows that he truly is one of the best of his kind today; his falsettos on Million Dolla Baby and Elevatas in particular (even his amusing Michael Jackson-esque “woo”s in the latter) sound fantastic, showcasing his rich, expansive voice but also understating more than enough to keep from overdoing it.

As mentioned earlier, the beats are a huge part of why this album is a success as well, particularly in their eclecticism. Cuts like Jus Right and Mona Lisa have a tropical, calypso-esque feel to them, which are starkly different from but still fit in well with, say, Rollacoasta, which has a throbbing, synth heavy funk to it and a catchy hook that could stand next to the Gap Band’s best. Speaking of hooks, while Thicke hasn’t come anywhere near his first hit, he still hits paydirt here. His vocal melodies on Meiplé, for instance, are outstanding, as they are on It’s in the Morning, which features Snoop Dogg and should be completely generic: it’s a song praising morning sex in the typical slo-jam style, but the melodies and silliness of the lyrics make it quite appealing. Other big standouts are the neo-soulful Mrs. Sexy, and the glitchy, futuristic hip-hop of Shakin’ It 4 Daddy with Nick Minaj.

Taking time out of his... er... busy schedule to shoot a smile at his fans

Sex Therapy is the kind of album that most R&B artists wish they could make. It’s fun, playful, and even authentically sexy without ever falling into the pitfalls of taking itself too seriously (or not seriously enough, for that matter).  Much like how Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds approached their Murder Ballads album, Robin Thicke is very blatant with how he tackles the subject matter, but at the same time keeps a good sense of humor about himself, and this could well be the album’s greatest strength. A great way to close out the year for R&B.

Amerie blew up back in 2005 with her smash single 1 Thing, a complete R&B knockout with a great beat and smartly understated vocals. While since, she’s recieved her share of praise from critics, popularity past her biggest hit has mostly eluded her. It’s a shame too, especially given how good her last album (2007′s Because I Love It) was; 1 Thing was even tacked on to Because I Love It after its lead single flopped, as if a desperate attempt to get people buying the disc. But as the old saying goes, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and while Amerie’s fourth studio album, In Love & War, boasts very little change from her last release, and it lacks a single with enough punch to become a radio sensation, it still just sounds too good to be old just yet.

Is she melting? Growing wings? I dunno, but it looks kinda cool

In Love & War gets off to a great, great start. From the funky Tell Me You Love Me‘s blasting horns to the of the fourth cut Higher, the energy is abundant and Amerie’s strong, edgy voice is confidently leading it all. Heard ‘Em All has an instantly grabbing, stuttering beat with a fantastic vocal, clever percussion, and carefully placed synths, and Dangerous is driven by a rugged rock-meets-soul sound, with a great deal of emphasis on the rawness of Amerie’s voice. Both have incredibly addicting choruses as well, but it’s Higher that really gets you moving. The subdued guitars and synths provide a slick backdrop to the surprisingly convincing singing.

Ironically, it’s lead single Why R U that breaks up the momentum. It’s the first point on the album where the balance is slightly off; the hip hop aspect is pushed too hard, and Amerie’s background vocal in the chorus is suspiciously similar to a single of hers from a while back. Where everything has felt wonderfully genuine up to this point, it feels postured here, and doesn’t sit well with the rest of the album. The following Pretty Brown Eyes, while better, falls to the same foil. The song, a duet with Trey Songz (who sounds quite good, actually), seems to be putting forth too much effort to be hard hitting, and consequently feels too forced.

Thankfully, the soulful More Than Love gets In Love & War back on track with ease. Like on a handful of tracks from Because I Love It, More recalls nineties R&B, but here it has a more updated sound. Fabolous is featured here as well, and sings the second verse (preceded by an amusing faux argument), which gives the already charming song a big dose of personality. Amerie perhaps sounds her best on Swag Back, which alternates sharply between piano and synths; she can sound simultaneously assured but not, and reminds how good she is at understating her voice and letting it soar at just the right moments, a quality far too many female R&B singers lack. Red Eye has a soothing downtempo feel, which carries out for the remainder of the album, from the similarly gentle yet sweeping The Flowers to the almost bleak sounding piano-led closer Dear John.

One thing that separates In Love & War from its predecessor is the presence of a theme unifying all of the tracks. As Miss Amerie said herself, “Conceptually, I just really wanted to write about the tumultuous times of a relationship. Not so much like everything is so perfect, but looking at the more imperfect sides of love and relationships… …I was just thinking ‘the whole concept of love and war really encapsulates everything that I was trying to get across as far as a theme for the album.” Even without knowing her intent, the concept is highly noticeable, from the frustration sung over in the earlier tracks to the resignation in the closing ones.

That's amazing! How is she.. wait... she's not suspended in gravity at all! She's a phony!

With the exception of a small slump in the middle, In Love & War largely succeeds. Even though it’s ultimately the same ground already covered by her last album, the savvy production as well as Amerie’s theme of love gone wrong prevents it from ever getting boring. It’s a very enriching listen, which unfortunately will not be nearly as popular as it should be.

As reductive as it seems to immediately refer to the obvious in a review of Rihanna’s latest effort, there’s an undeniable causation at work. Quite accustomed to releasing one smash single after another, here she puts out a somewhat less commercial, more statement-oriented set of songs with a great deal more anger than we’re accustomed to from her (did she just say “I’m such a fucking lady”?). Contrary to her earlier, much poppier work, the scenario of young girls skipping along singing, “I lick the gun when I’m done ’cause I know that revenge is sweet” is incredibly unlikely. Cathartic while it may be for her, Rated R can be very alienating; some songs sound so personal that one can’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable listening (which could well be what the warning at the album’s start felt necessary to advise; it does sound rather unironic to begin with), while others take the exact opposite approach with a braggart swagger that feels even more uncharacteristic. However, there’s a cold, robotic feel throughout that holds it all together, and despite how nearly two-dimensioned the songs are, the album is more cohesive than one might think.

Ssssssssssssymbolism

The first song after the introduction is Wait Your Turn, which is one of the most, again, robotic sounding songs on the record. The following Hard does have a very good hook in the chorus, but while the boastful role doesn’t sound postured per se, it just seems somewhat ill-fitting. Still, she delivers it with such admirable confidence that it’s still difficult to not be entertained.

The momentum, however, is quickly halted by the first ballad, Stupid in Love. The production deserves credit for making this, as well as the like-minded Photographs, fit in with the rest of the tracks, because ultimately they sound less genuine than the more, aggressive, anger fueled songs (though the latter has a great midsection in which will.i.am injects a much needed break in melody). Fire Bomb is a good example; musically, it sounds almost like 80′s metal meets R&B topped with Rihanna’s unfailingly pleasant voice, and her car crash explosion metaphor (or maybe a literal morbid fantasy?) is beautifully expressed with lines like “I just want to set you on fire so I won’t have to burn alone.”

Oh my... good girl gone bad indeed.

Rude Boy‘s dancehall-meets-new jack swing groove sounds more single-worthy (though less representative of the album) than the startlingly literal and slightly over dramatic Russian Roulette, which is complete with crawling synths and a concluding gunshot. Also on tracks like G4L, you get the sense it might be enjoyable if it wasn’t so easy to imagine as a personal ode; I’m not going to lie, that song made me almost as uneasy as Eminem’s Kim.

…okay, well not quite, but close enough.

Rated R finishes strong, though; despite a groan inducing drum break straight from In the Air Tonight, which barely even fits in the song, Cold Case Love nails the dark mood without sounding too personal or streamlined. It serves as a perfect setup for The Last Song, which is an appropriate closer in terms of title as well as substance. Like its predecessor, it’s just vague enough to be impersonal and still come across as a song written out of genuine heartache.

Even more unexpected than anything else here is the fact that there aren’t really any memorable singles, which has been Rihanna’s forte ever since she first emerged with Pon de Replay back in 2005. Even the most accessible songs on the set are missing the snappiness of pretty much anything on Good Girl Gone Bad;  the midtempo numbers that dominate Rated R could prove to be too brooding for pop radio, and the barely-there solidarity among the tracks isn’t strong enough to make the album much better than average. It’s not exceptional, but Rihanna has taken a bold step forward without completely falling flat, and she deserves much credit for that.