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The-Dream - News
New Album for The-Dream
| 08-04-2009 11:54 | 0 reaction(s) | add reaction | add news |
Terius “The-Dream” Nash is not doing anything new, per se—he’s just sampled the best parts of the old. His references are so overt—he calls the final song on his sophomore album, “Kelly’s 12 Play”—that he’d be a fool to attempt to obscure them. He’s lifted R. Kelly’s swaggering sensuality and blunt lyricism. He’s scooped Bobby Brown’s affected purr. He’s borrowed Prince’s swooping LinnDrum sound. He’s even jacked the city of Atlanta’s riotous “Ay!” chant and made it an integral part of his songwriting. Since he announced himself a major songwriter with Britney Spears’ 2003 “Me Against The Music”—which found the pop star slithering through lines like “The sweat is dripping all over my face”—The-Dream has been able to take those influences and manufacture something immediate and visceral, for stars like Beyoncé and Mary J. Blige, and also for himself. On his wonderful debut, 2007’s Love/Hate, those influences were writ large across 12 songs. But his new album is more proprietary. Despite the R. Kelly shout-out, he is a stronger, less tentative performer.
Love vs. Money’s conceit—it’s, um, self-explanatory—has been squeezed dry before. But the craft is meticulous, and the sound so epic, and at times, operatic, with production from Tricky Stewart (The-Dream’s silent partner in his corporation of hits), that moments on this album comprise some of the best pop music of the decade. The wafting and collapsing “Rockin’ That Shit” sounds like it was composed for a Kubrickian space opera. On “Walkin’ On The Moon” he incredibly and hilariously promises to “pull down a cloud for you.” And “Put It Down,” “Sweat It Out,” and “Take You Home 2 My Mama” form a frenzied triptych that rivals any three consecutive R&B songs in recent memory. Each song is deliciously specific and yearning—on “Sweat It Out” he begs his girl to “Call Latisha, your beautician” before a romp—but each moves at a different pace. In some ways his ballads feel as ramped up as a dance track and his club cuts are as gallant as a slow-paced love song. The spacey, six-and-a-half-minutes-long “Fancy” is one of the more strange and resilient records here. Over a rolling piano line that recalls Vince Guaraldi, Nash sings low in his delicate, high tone. An echo effect lifts it even higher in range when the insouciant chorus—that is a chorus, right?—begins to creep in. It’s a rare moment of calm on Love Vs. Money, but it’s a welcome one.
Not necessarily a sympathetic figure, The-Dream has a rapper’s affectations—imperious boasting, a sex-addled mind, an obsession with wealth, dashes of foul language—and can seem callous in his songs. At the beginning of “Mr. Yeah” he fecklessly chirps, “My publisher loves when I do this.” Until that zithering song glides into its big, booming hook—then it’s hard to hold a grudge. Oscillating between the thrall of love and the charms of money throughout this accomplished follow-up, The-Dream’s latest album begs the question, why choose when you can have both? |
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