Album Review: Chris Brown, Breezy
Chris Brown
Breezy (released June 24, 2022)
You know society has gone completely left when my Cousin Chris Brown becomes the voice of reason.
Recent conversations across Twitter — mostly fueled by kids who were born after the iPhone 3 came out — have dared to claim that Cousin Chris is not just the Michael Jackson of this generation, but he’s BETTER than Michael!
They serve paint chips in school lunchrooms now or what?
Thankfully, CB shut that down with two words in this interview — “That’s cap.”
Until your faves debut music videos that break into primetime programming and make nightly news, until the very sight of them makes GROWN ADULTS FAINT, let’s stop crowning everyone who can do a split in tight pants the new King of Pop.
Deep down, though, I understand how we got here.
Longtime readers know it’s no secret how hard I’ve been on ol Breezy, especially in the past decade, which has been littered with one lackluster album after another. That said, during R&B’s darkest era to date, Chris Brown has been the genre’s biggest (and most years, ONLY) mainstream star.
For an entire generation, Chris Brown has been the face of R&B.
Attribute that rise to two frustrating factors:
- Abandoning his traditional R&B sound for the ever-present, and ever trendy, rap-sung delivery that has infested every genre of music like silverfish in your grandma’s basement
- And his dismissal of traditional album structure — ignoring the usual 45-minute, 15 track design for 40-track behemoths that run nearly THREE HOURS. Great for boosting numbers on streaming sites and spamming Billboard charts, sure, not so great for producing solid bodies of work.
When I die 15 years earlier than expected, blame my reviews of Indigo and Heartbreak on a Full Moon for shrinking my lifespan.
Cousin Chris may be the most recognized, best-selling star in R&B but I think even at this point he realizes he needs a change.
Good news, Breezy, um, Breezy’s 10th studio album tries to switch things up. Sorta. First, it doesn’t clock in at almost three hours — he’s gotten it down to a “lean” hour and half! It’s like watching Morbius instead of watching the Dark Knight!
…This album is definitely like watching Morbius.
Also, CB has heard the whispers from R&B curmudgeons like me who are tired of his Migos tribute act:
So of course the album’s first track “Till The Wheels Fall Off” begins with COUSIN CHRIS DOING HIS RAP THING AGAIN.
That’s what makes Breezy such a weird release. It inches Brown toward freshening up his sound and presentation … but then he gets cold feet and it’s business as usual.
The first half of the album is pretty much every CB album you’ve heard since the dull days of Royalty. “C.A.B.” is a mildly catchy but ridiculously oversexed song that is instantly forgettable outside of a solid guest verse from Fivio Foreign. That guy is the new Fabolous — great guest spots, so-so solo albums. You’ve got the typical sex-crazed tracks with needless rapper features (Lil Baby on “Addicted”) nondescript midtempo songs (“Pitch Black”), and embarrassing cuts named after oral sex noises (“Hmhmm”).
Frankly, most of the features come off as needless streaming bait. Breezy and Bryson Tiller as a bland as a mayonnaise smoothie on “Need You Right Here” and Lil Wayne and BLEU makes a mess of “Possessive” — the vocal effects are so heavy handed they sound like the Decepticon Mass Choir. Others work much better. Cousin Chris and HER have recorded stronger songs in the past but “Closure” benefits from the chemistry. Likewise, “Sex Memories” with Ella Mai might not hit it out of the park, but it’s not a bad outing.
What DOES work is “Call Me Every Day,” with WizKid. The warm island grooves FINALLY give CB a fresh landscape to explore, happily dragging him from the usual trap drums and debauchery. And while I’m still not on the Blxst train like most of the known universe — I’m dying for him to break away from his sing-songy rap deal — “Show It” is another solid, upbeat track.
The album finally begins to gel a bit in the second half, thanks again to a willingness to experiment. “Passing Time” oozes with 80s vibes while “WE (Warm Embrace)” transports us to the 90s, courtesy of a well-done sample of Guy’s “Let’s Chill.” Sampling a hit almost always works.
Unless you’re talking about the songs on that new Nick Cannon album. He should be on the terrorist watch list for that nightmare.
The upbeat “Forbidden” is DYING for the video treatment, feeling like something plucked from Cousin Chris’ Exclusive days. It’s undeniably fun. But the track that will undoubtedly have everyone talking is “Harder,” the spiritual successor of D’Angelo’s “How Does It Feel.” It’s great to hear Chris actually singing again (reminder: He’s actually pretty good at it) and it’s encouraging to hear a song that manages to be sexy without being cartoonishly crude. It has a bridge and everything!
But here’s the problem with Breezy — the album and the guy. I just showed love to four pretty solid tracks, right? Well, that ignores the six or seven painfully generic songs on the album’s second half that surround them. More trap drums, more played-out pseudo-rapping, more immature lyrics.
It’s hard to celebrate these wins when they’re trapped in the Multiverse of Mediocrity.
Here’s the good news — this is my cousin’s best project in years, thanks to his decision to finally step out of his comfort zone and try new things. But overall, it’s still handcuffed by the same ills we’ve been complaining about for years — too many mid tracks, too many needless features, too much reliance on ideas that worked 10 years ago.
I’m sure stans will scream that this is a “perfect project” and I should “stop grading it like an album — it’s a collection of songs so we can build our own playlist!”
Sorry y’all, if he’s calling it an album, I’m reviewing it like an album.
Besides, you know who DIDN’T need to have their albums graded on some sliding streaming curve?
If you think legends need cheat codes, that’s cap.
Best tracks: “WE (Warm Embrace),” “Call Me Every Day,” “Passing Time,” “Harder”
3 stars out of 5
