Official Album Review: "The Evolution of Robin Thicke" 2006

What's that sound? Am I the only one who hears that? Oh. Wait. It's the sound of 500,000 panties hitting the ground at the same time.

Alan Thicke's son, Robin, has got it going on in a big way. The smooth-voiced, Orlando Bloom doppelganger has turned out an album worthy of listening to during a late-night romantic rendezvous. This entertaining R&B set is an impressive mix of hot jams, smoking verses and sexy grooves.

It was a great call setting "Got 2 Be Down" as the first song on the album. Right away you're greeted with the classy Ms. Faith Evans breaking it down. And the beat is catchy. It's simple, but catchy. The album's title comes into play as we move from track one to track 16. We start of bopping our heads, popping our fingers and absorbing the sexy complexity that is Robin Thicke. After the Pharrell collab track, "Wanna Love U Girl" we start to slip into a more mellow, funky type of scene ("Shooter" is a terrifically strange song, with Lil Wayne who does a pretty good job). In the end we're listening to sad, slower songs. It's a terrific album.

I get the sense that this is what Justin Timberlake tried (and failed) to achieve with his last offering "FutureSex/LoveSounds". Robin has created a serious R&B album that pushes the lines of tradition, pulls in something new and brings us something we can all relate to. And shake our asses to.

Rock on, Robin!

I give it 4 out of 5 stars

No use crying over spoiled Wine

Yeah. Okay. I've seen the name before. Up until about a month and a half ago I had never heard any of her music. And then, my good friend takes me to a glitter-drag night club complete with fab-oo lipsynchers. One of the girls did the song "Rehab". By the end of that little number my jaw was on the ground. But I couldn't deny that her voice was smokey and deliciously hypnotic. The content, however, was surprising and confusing at the same time.

Fast forward to the middle of July. I can't dream without Amy's "Rehab" single showing up on the damn soundtrack. The potency of my intrigue and interest has been significantly diminished because of the over-exposure. I listened to bits of the album "Back to Black" and I think it's pretty damn groovy. A good purchase for any lovers of this music genre (lots of brass and blues).

The disturbing part comes when you actually look at Ms. Winehouse. She has a quasi-junkie look going on. Her hair is usually matted and wild. And she's dangerously close to being as thick around the middle as a Swiffer Sweeper broom handle. The worst of it comes when you learn that she has a ghoulish habit of spitting. Yep. S-P-I-T-T-I-N-G. The New York Post has the full story here. But this has seriously turned me off from even wanting to fully own one of her albums now or in the future. I mean, I expect this from a 3-year-old throwing a tantrum at the local Pathmark because he wants a box of Frankenberry. Not from a woman who's practically staring 30 in the face.