Record Reviews

Sunday, August 27, 2006 'IDLEWILD' Outkast (LaFace) Grade: B Let the break-up rumors persist if they must. But with the "Idlewild" soundtrack, Outkast's Andre "3000" Benjamin and Antwan "Big Boi" Patton have proven again that even in tenuous times, they're one of music's most consistently daring groups. The musical companion piece to their Prohibition-era big screen film — also debuting last week — "Idlewild" is far from 2000's cohesive "Stankonia." Instead it's a rambling trip through countrified rap, soul, blues and swing with its fair share of hits and misses. Andre 3000 and Big Boi's increasingly disparate working relationship has been well-reported. Dre stands as the group's eccentric, operating outside of rap conventions and often singing in a passable falsetto. Meanwhile, Big Boi remains rooted in hip-hop, rhyming with as much clever invention as ever. Rarely do the duo record together. The arrangement worked lovely with each combining solo efforts into one double CD, 2003's Grammy-winning "Speakerboxx/ The Love Below," which sold some 11 million units. Though "Idlewild" is a singular 25-track affair, each artist's tastes are clearly defined throughout. Of the two songs on which they rhyme together, "Mighty O" is most revealing. The tune, an update of Cab Calloway's "Minnie the Moocher" with tumbling drums and squishy synths, is remarkable for Dre's opening verse. "Eat up whatever rapper/ but I'm tangled in my cord, huh, bored," he rhymes, stating early on a mild disdain for rapping. As the disc continues, it becomes clearer that he'd rather mine his inner Prince. But the foray into melody that made Dre's best-known smash "Hey Ya!" so ubiquitous it became an unbearable listen, is the same schtick that undermines several of his performances on "Idlewild." The unplugged blues of "Idlewild Blues (Don't Chu Worry 'Bout Me)" is a knee-slapping, guitar-driven good time and his achy croon on "Hollywood Divorce" complements slick cameos from Lil Wayne and Snoop Dogg. However, by disc's end, Dre's vocals sound gimmicky, with the jazz scatting on "Makes No Sense at All" being his biggest offense. By contrast, Big Boi is rarely out of pocket. On the Dre-produced "Morris Brown," his nimble, triple-time flow buoys the titular college's marching band on the disc's most raucous romp. Elsewhere, he favors reclining grooves whether the subject is baby mama drama ("Peaches"), casual sex ("N2U") or personal reflection ("The Train"). Differences notwithstanding, that's where the magic of Outkast exists — in that balance between Big Boi's accessible ditties and Dre's more experimental excursions. "Idlewild" is the latest proof that one voice without the other would sound much less satisfying. —Brett Johnson, Associated Press 'KELIS WAS HERE' Kelis (Jive) Grade: B "You don't have to love me/you don't even have to like me/but you will respect me," Kelis asserts on "Bossy," the delightfully arrogant first single from her third album, "Kelis Was Here." It's a presumptuous, finger-snapping declaration from an R&B diva whose biggest hit — "Milkshake" off 2003's "Tasty" — mentioned how her body, not her brains, brought all the boys to the yard. But given the unexpected turns she takes on her latest disc, her demand is warranted. Not merely a sexpot with attitude, Kelis is equally wont to be a starry-eyed romantic ("Trilogy"), a devout lover ("Till the Wheels Fall Off"), or a spiritually connected celeb with a taste for soaring gospel touches ("Lil Star" featuring Cee-Lo). Few songstresses can match her hot-blooded sneer — "Blindfold Me" is a naughty bedroom romp with blaring, buzzing synths. Yet the album's best moments are mainly devoid of hardcore posturing. As flute whistles accent "Like U," Kelis's breathy come-ons sound endearingly sweet: "I don't just like you/I like you, like you." Throughout, her vocals — sometimes whisper-thin, other times a husky swoon — give the songs, many of which mine the skeletal, synth-driven sound of '80s New Wave, a decidedly soulful edge. And when the music stretches beyond electro-pop to include some funk-soul flourishes as on "Circus," she manages to inject its warm rhythms with a reflective optimism. "Should I dive through the circle of fire?" she wonders, before concluding: "No, I'm just gonna be me." We can all respect that. —Brett Johnson, Associated Press 'PARIS' Paris Hilton (Heiress) Grade: C Paris Hilton has come up with a passable set of tracks that, under anyone else's name, would rate a not-bad shrug. Coming from a model and partier with no history as a working pop act, it occasionally surprises. Hilton sings in earnest imitation of Gwen Stefani, and the breathy quality of her voice is a caricature of sexiness on the opener, "Turn It Up," whose bounding rhythm is more Missy and Timbaland than Paris and Scott — urban-music producer and songwriter Scott Storch, who does most of the studio legwork and some of the opportunistic borrowing. Storch did not write the first single, "Stars Are Blind," a reggae-tinged ringer for Blondie's "The Tide Is High." But he does flirt with litigation on "Heartbeat," his de facto cover of Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time," right down to the tick-tocking notes. Hilton's voice has an AutoTuned feel on that cushy ballad. But there and elsewhere, she also seems to have a sense of timing and delivery. She fits herself comfortably into the interior design of "Nothing in the World," a teeny-bopping dance-pop tune trimmed with catchy guitar. Her talky give-and-take with rappers Jadakiss and Fat Joe on "Fightin' Over Me" is no more annoying than her on-camera smugness. The only shame of "Screwed," a punky ode to a no-good boyfriend, is the feeling that, say, Pink would have sung it with more gusto. Overall Hilton has done no worse on her first try than dabblers such as J-Lo. It's almost a relief, in fact, to hear her botch the last track: A scratchy, thin-as-nail-polish cover of Rod Stewart's "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" makes it easiest to regard her as somebody with more sense of entitlement than talent. —Sean Piccoli, South Florida Sun-Sentinel