by Alicia Keys
(J)
One of my favorite acts of criticism of the decade came in the form
of a phone call from my sister Brittany in 2001, after she’d come back
from attending the Minnesota State Fair. “Michael,” she said, mock
breathless, “I just saw the talented Alicia
Keys.” According to Brittany’s report, Keys, then touring behind
Songs in
A Minor, emanated disingenuousness the way you or
I expel sweat in a heat wave. She began “How Come U Don’t Call Me
Anymore,” which she’d covered on the album, by intimating through
hammy
ululation
that Prince himself might join her for the song (he
didn’t)—she was, after all, in the Twin
Cities, where
nodding to him is as standard (and tiresome) as onstage references to
Kurt Cobain are in Seattle. She whipped out her piano chops to adoring
sighs. Coy monologues abounded. For someone who hadn’t yet
reached drinking age, it sounded as if she’d managed more showbiz
clichés than a roomful of Rent road-show hopefuls being
called upon to improvise. And that was just her first album.
I think of that phone call whenever I hear a new Keys
song—it’s difficult not to—but I never think of Keys as
insincere. That kind of blandness is impossible to fake, and
it’s everywhere on “Doesn’t Mean Anything,” which sounds like a
tracing-paper “No One”: tempo a mite quicker (that dead
four-to-the-floor thump everyone in pop and R&B is using even on
ballads now), fewer vocal overdubs till halfway into the chorus, less
belting, lyric about being bereft, the usual. “Material
things/They don’t mean a thing”: Now we know. It meanders where “No
One” clobbered, which is a mistake: Something so eminently yeah-so-what
works best when you pile it on.
But there are other ways to do it. The other week, I received an
e-mail announcing Keys’s newest triumph: a “lecture and performance
series” encompassing NYU and UCLA, with more to come. That’s right:
This 28-year-old with zero to say artistically is hitting the
lecture circuit. Here’s a quote from the press release: “For the first
time in my recording career, I think I’ve finally found an
understanding of the creative process by just allowing myself to be
free.” The series is, of course, named after her forthcoming album,
The Element of Freedom—synergy! The NYU appearance,
of course, was not open to the public. Sorry, Brittany. I’ll try harder
to return the favor next time. 