It’s hard to lose Cee-Lo in the pack. The squat,
Atlanta-based singer/MC has a distinctive voice that falls in the
range somewhere between falsetto and whine. If someone tried to
take themselves seriously with this voice, they’d come across
as Smokey Robinson singing in a blender with a sick tabby cat.
As a member of the recently dissolved dirty South super-group
Dungeon Family, Cee-Lo was usually relegated to singing the hook
or, at best, spitting a 10 second mini-verse. Striking out on his
own, he released his debut album, Cee-Lo Green & His Perfect
Imperfection. Even with the huge chart success of his
compatriots OutKast, his first album did disappointing business. He
billed himself as a slightly intellectual alternative: a modern day
Q-Tip. With OutKast firmly on the national music scene and Southern
rap dominating popular hip-hop, the time seemed ripe for
Cee-Lo’s elevation into a higher echelon of success.
Cee-Lo Green is The Soul Machine lives and dies on
listenability. Cee-Lo’s desire for independence is
commendable, but sometimes he has to just give the people what they
want. He goes so far to exert his individuality that on “I am
Selling Soul,” he doesn’t rap, he doesn’t sing he
gives a slightly over-wrought monologue about the future of soul
music. It’s more entertaining to listen to some stupid antics
on a Redman skit than a holier-than-thou manifesto.
When Cee-Lo is on point, however, he crafts a blend of
trickling, cartoonish funk. “Child Play” uses a
xylophone to smash together a dope day-care jam. The lead single,
“I’ll Be Around,” might be Timbaland’s best
mid-tempo song since the L.O.X.’s “Ryde or Die.”
With fluttering trumpets, a digital choir in the chorus and Cee-Lo
squawking, it’s the oddest way to start dancing so far this
year. Imagine Jimmy Buffet slathered in sloppy Georgia funk,
praising everyone at the bar, and you’ve got Cee-Lo on
“My Kind of People.”
It’s these tracks, filled with distinct melodies and real
experimentation that warrant some of Cee-Lo’s constant
explorations into new hip-hop territory. However, explorations,
sadly, cripple the album’s success. The aforementioned
monologues appear on a total of three tracks and do a marvelous job
of murdering any good will the listener has built up for Cee-Lo.
Other songs devolve into a similar funk-less stupor.
“Glockapella” is needless gun-play from someone who
claims to be above such subject material. Cee-Lo just needs to
temper his desire for trailblazing hip-hop with some common sense.
Get some bodies on the dance floor and then try to get your point
across.
Rating: 2 out of 5 stars.