Maybe being a TV star on Fresh Prince of Bel Air has changed the royal rapper (who used to be skinny Philadelphian Will Smith). The Prince's new record with cohort Jazzy Jeff leans to the cynical—it certainly betrays none of the goofy hip-hop humor that marked previous hits like "Parents Just Don't Understand."
From the first track, "I'm All That," which samples a bass riff from Rick James's "Give It to Me Baby," there's a harder edge to this album. The musical backing is more sophisticated, as on a smooth Gershwin via Kool & the Gang version of "Summertime." And check out the hip Ramsey Lewis—like groove on "This Boy Is Smooth."
The Fresh Prince remains a nimble, mellifluous rapper—listen to "Trapped on the Dance Floor" with guest rappers El-Sid and Jazz Fresh. But what happened to his sense of humor? "You Saw My Blinker" could have been a funny tale about a car accident akin to "Who Stole My Car?" from the previous JJ-FP record. Instead it's a mean-spirited diatribe.
The Fresh Prince explains his tougher stance on one song: "In the past I chose to make people laugh/ And I was criticized for that/ Some called me soft/ Some called me whack." Hey, adopting a new attitude is all well and good, but what the world doesn't need now is another boastful rapper.
And on this record, when the Fresh Prince isn't carrying on about what a superior wordsmith he is, he's bragging about his prowess as a lover ("I'm a Prince/ I deserve a harem," he brays in "A Dog Is a Dog"). At one point he likens himself to Billy Dee Williams. No laughing. Since his TV coronation, the Fresh Prince won't tolerate levity. (Jive)
Carmen McRae
It would be nice if this tribute to Sarah Vaughan did justice to the Divine One. But McRae's renditions of songs associated with the woman known as sassy—"Misty," "Tenderly," "Poor Butterfly," "Dedicated to You"—invoke no pleasing memories.
McRae begins well enough, with a swinging, insouciant "I've Got the World on a String," ending the song with a quite justified "yeah." What follows, however, aside from the shimmering contribution of the Shirley Horn trio, warrants several firm nos.
McRae's "Misty," for example, contains so many repeated-for-effect phrases ("You can say/ You can say/ Just what I want you to/ Just what I want you...") one becomes convinced that CDs can be scratched. Equally aggravating are McRae's chronic pauses.
It doesn't take long to get disenchanted with the entire mannered enterprise. (RCA Novus)"
Candy Dulfer
Dulfer's video-friendly looks don't hurt her ability to stand out from her fellow saxophone players. Nobody ever called, say, Sonny Rollins or David Sanborn a cupcake.
But she's more than just another pretty embouchure.
The Dutch musician, 21, plays jauntily, in bite-size phrases she and partner Ulco Bed fit into pop funk arrangements. (She sings too, in a hummy way.) Bed and Dulfer dominate the song credits, though the album includes Miles Davis's "So What," Dave Stewart's "Lily Was Here" and "Home Is Not a House," by Hans Dulfer, Candy's father. He also chimes in with a tenor solo. While Dulfer the younger has hacked up Prince, Pink Floyd and Van Morrison, she cites Rollins and Sanborn as influences, along with Charlie Parker and Ben Webster. Her playing won't remind anyone of such hard-core jazz saxophonists, but she does project a contagious enjoyment of her music. It's hard to listen to this album without smiling. (Arista)
The Chenille Sisters
In the name of truth in labeling, these three women—Cheryl Dawdy, Connie Huber and Grace Morand—should consider changing the name of their group. First off, they're not sisters. More significantly, their sound—reminiscent of the Andrews, Boswell and McGarrigle sisters—is sublime enough to demand a more upscale fabric than Chenille.
They move deftly—with meticulous harmonies—from parody to pastiche to country to folk. An uproarious "translation" of "La Bamba," "Listen to Your Mama," urges: "Listen to your mama/ She says be neat-a/ Protect toilet seat-a/ In strange bathrooms."
It is followed by a hauntingly sung version of Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come" and Huber's "Road-maps," a lament for a lover who's uncomfortable with comfort.
Not all the selections work. "Is It True, Albert?" an a cappella song of distress aimed at Einstein, and "I Am a Can of Tuna" are lyrically dull.
Better to concentrate on "The Wind," with guitarist Pat Donohue's Ry Cooderesque accompaniment.
Or consider the sassy title track. Let's discuss the possibility of listening to such a number without a broad grin and a tapping foot or two. It is flatly impossible. (Red House)
- Contributors:
- David Hiltbrand,
- Joanne Kaufman,
- Ralph Novak.
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
