Chris Brown (4) ‎– Graffiti

This is perhaps one of the worst things vomited by nearly any musician, definitely in any genre. I say this out of neither elitism (though I admit that this is not my standard fare) nor racism (I am just as capable of admonishing a white experimentalist) but from the simple fact that this recording is testament that Brown is a reprehensible human being. "Miserable" doesn't even begin to describe the train wreck that Brown coughed up here. It is little more than a ham-fisted attempt to escape his bad rap, and it proves that he has learned absolutely nothing from the events that got him it.

It starts with the atonal (sampled) loop that forms the backbone of "I Can Transform Ya." Never mind the lyrics, it's that sample that really grinds my gears. It wasn't even pitch-shifted! But the lyrics are just as monstrous: Lil' Wayne contributes disturbing, poorly written warpings of traditional hip-hop staples, spouted between lines that sound straight from the mind of a sugar-crazed 6-year-old watching a Transformers cartoon, complete with the implication that women are, quite literally, objects. That only makes it worse.

The sad thing is, that's the high point. Brown regularly touts his ego, expecting the audience to agree, tries to gain sympathy from the crowd and instead comes across more like Christian Weston Chandler, (Much of the album is devoted to attempting to convince Rihanna to be a doormat while painting himself as the emotionally damaged one. This is made worse by the love songs which attempt to be sweet, but end up rather creepy.) and throughly bungles RnB through rampant sexism, questionable lyrical choices ("Take My Time," "Falling Down," and "Wait" are particularly egregious in this regard) and various vocal mess-ups, such as Tank overestimating his baritone on "Take My Time" or the botched autotune job on "I. Y. A." that wedges the lyrics uncomfortably between man and machine.

Track 6, "Famous Girl" is the track that really pisses me off. I mean, all of them do, in some way or another, but this one takes the cake. In it, he tries to paint Rihanna as the callous one, saying "I should have known you'd break my heart" while berating her through song about all the other choices he had ("Carrie would have said my love knocks her down," a bad choice of words, "Keisha would have told me I was sent from heaven") while shrugging off all his wrongs (such as smashing a car window, or so the lyrics say) as water under the bridge, making it quite clear in the process who the Famous Girl is. From there it gets worse: "So you thought you found the right man?/There were other girls who thought the same thing about me./Like them, I let you down." And yet somehow, we're supposed to be sympathizing with Chris. Given the fact that this eventually devolves into yet another ego trip listeners wouldn't be blamed for disbelief.

It gets worse, though. Tracks "Lucky Me" and "Falling Down" could somehow be interpreted as Chris Brown's attempt to show his more human side. However, through the overinflated mind of Brown, this translates to whining about how difficult it is to be rich and famous and genuinely expecting sympathy. His beleaguered tone throughout the sarcastically titled former track is almost enough to instigate violence. The latter, if possible, is an even less warranted discussion of how difficult life is at the top. His tone goes straight to a semblance of uncertainty and helplessness covering a veil of self-importance. Essentially, it's a half-assed rehash of "Lucky Me," and a bridge between it and the closer of "I'll Go," an apt summary of the album itself: a beautifully produced, yet self-contradictory and egotistical recording loaded with questionable implication. At points, he seems to flirt briefly with the acknowledgement of interpersonal faults, and then he cranks out such stellar lines as this: "Got my heart in the palm of your hand,/Now you're good, that's yours./If you don't want it, I won't understand,/'Cause I came so far," before continuing on as normal. It's nowheres near the worst track, (the closest to a compliment it merits) and it seems an apt closing statement, but still, it's just another example of Brown being, well Brown(or, at least, Brown as he has just spent the last fifty or so minutes revealing himself to be).

Don't get me wrong, as a collection of instrumentals, this would have made an excellent various artists compilation, and those that wouldn't work as such easily could with a little more work. The beats are all well done, melodic, and overall beautiful. The producers' styles range from straight-up party starters (some a little more spaced out than others) to sweetly structured electro(I've always had a soft spot for the chiptune aesthetic) Special mention goes to Ryan Leslie's late night 8-bit on "Famous Girl" and the impressive dance number Free School contributes to "I. Y. A.," not to mention the impressive guitar work on "Fallin' Down." and "I'll Go" on which Fauntleroy and Kenedy do their part to help end the album with a bang (bonus points for the Charlie Brown- style piano.) Brown, however, uses these musicians as Bono does U2: They serve but as a tool to feed his enormous ego.

Now I know that in the face of this entire review, my tastes in music must make me sound hypocritical. If I can nail Chris Brown simply for being a giant prick, why am I so much as batting an eye at the works of Captain Beefheart? Well, barring the obvious difference in genres, there is the fact that while Don Van Vliet was a complete and total monster, it's easy to forget that while listening to a copy of "Trout Mask Replica". On "Graffiti," however, Brown lets his insufferability and self-righteousness shine through quite regularly, flagrantly unveiling himself for the jackass he is. I do not exaggerate when I say that I had to remind myself at points not to punch my radio clean off the desk, thus blowing more than I already had on this album. I heartily advise you either pick up his works prior to this or wait for his next album (sometime next year), skipping this completely.