'Milkshake' singer brings more to the table

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By CHUCK CAMPBELL
Sunday, October 15, 2006
"KELIS WAS HERE," Kelis (Jive)

Her milkshake brought all the boys to the yard, and now Kelis is leashing up those dogs with a "Kelis Was Here" that explores a seemingly infinite number of ways to assert her grandiosity.

The modern R&B singer cruises along on her fourth release without the help of The Neptunes, producers of the hit "Milkshake" from 2003's "Tasty."

Kelis would be the first to tell you she doesn't need those guys. And she's right.

There may be nothing as instantly gratifying on this bloated release as "Milkshake" (translation: Hardee's may not come calling this time), but it's rare to hear a woman express herself with such confidence and sensuality as the singer does on "Kelis Was Here."

Her distinctively husky voice is especially impressive attached to the unconventional framework of the arrangements.

For example, the booming bass and languid pace of the single "Bossy" lets listeners "catch the flow" as she proclaims, "That's right, I'm the one that's tattooed on his arm." Meanwhile, on "Blindfold Me" she gets kinky against a swarm of synths; the dramatic old-soul of "Appreciate Me" is pinned to the refrain, "Don't take my kindness for weakness"; the singer offers a gentle, albeit unyielding, message of inner peace against the sway of Spanish guitar on "Have a Nice Day"; and "I Don't Think So" packages her sass in a mash-up of rock, New Wave and disco.

"Kelis Was Here" has even weirder payoffs _ from the hypnotically bizarre come-on "Aww S***!" to a "Like You" that plays off an aria from the Mozart opera "The Magic Flute." It's only her more mundane tracks that fall flat _ most notably an unsatisfying will.i.am-produced "Weekend" that sounds like a fidgety, cut-rate Black Eyed Peas song trying to break out.

In all her braggadocio, the singer manages to find time to be romantic (as on the percolating "Living Proof"), philosophical ("Lil Star" featuring Cee-Lo), funky ("Till the Wheels Fall Off") and seductive ("What's That Right There" that features suggestive lines like, "I got somethin' for the lollipop.")

Whatever the singer's mood, it always comes with aggression.

Also, although Kelis is more focused on establishing her dominance over men, a playful "bonus" closing track (that has two expletives in its three-word title) issues a warning to women who talk behind her back: "Listen, why y'all trippin'?/I ain't tryin' to fight, but you lookin' for a whippin'."

All hail Kelis.

Rating (five possible): 4

"SOMEWHERE IN THE CITY," Tobias Froberg (Fire Egg/Cheap Lullaby)

Don't let the bongos throw you. When Tobias Froberg meekly inquires, "Would you love me for my heart?" on the song "When the Night Turns Cold," he's cutting through the feisty percussion to expose the simple soul at the core of his new pop/folk "Somewhere in the City."

The Swedish singer-songwriter is sweetly straightforward on the release _ to the point of naivete _ and his genuineness will surely endear him to some Americans who might be tired of the U.S. music diet of cynical manipulation.

Froberg doesn't have a typical singer's voice: His vocals waver and falter, and at times he seems reluctant to utter the next line. Yet he muddles through, driven perhaps by the earnest messages of his lyrics, and he works up a mantra on "What a Day" ("I just let the sunshine surround me ... I'm going out, I'm going out"), weaves through a conversational bit of Zen-like gratitude on "Thank You" and issues what seems to be a heartfelt tribute on the unassuming "Oh My Love."

There's a namby-pamby, asexual air to Forberg's delivery, yet "Somewhere in the City" is spiced up with more than just bongos on the opening track.

For example, Norwegian singer Ane Brun adds tension to the chorus of "Love and Misery" by chipping in Bjork-ish eccentricity. Also, cooing backing vocals and resonant glassy noise create a hymnal atmosphere for "Someone," and "God's Highway" is built on a ghostly foundation of a fractured, retro-Mamas and Papas vibe.

However, the tambourine isn't enough to prevent Froberg's voice from disintegrating into the vapors of "Forever Is Just a Word in a Lovesong" (where he sings, "In the December of my life, I will say that I loved you forever"), and songs like "For Elisabeth Wherever You Are" and "The Features of a Human Face" are mere treacle draped with gossamer acoustic guitarwork.

Good thing he always sounds so sincere.

Rating: 3-1/2

"THIS IS WHERE YOU BELONG," The Summer Obsession (Virgin)

Apparently the execs at Virgin Records think Jacksonville, Fla., is the new hotspot for rock.

But they were wrong about The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus _ for whom the label released the cliched "Don't You Fake It" on July 18 _ and they're just as wrong about The Summer Obsession, for whom Virgin has released the new, bland "This Is Where You Belong."

The two formulaic bands from the northeastern Florida city have a bit of yin-yang about them: The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus is a sassy, jaunting rock band with a penchant to complain (and thus appeal generally to young males), while The Summer Obsession is a sassy, jaunting rock band with a penchant to uplift (and thus appeal generally to young females).

The groups have another parallel: Both of their new albums feature a rote track about domestic abuse. And unfortunately, they each come across like there's a creepy bit of a mercenary motive behind them.

At any rate, The Summer Obsession parlays some early success on MySpace into a "This Is Where You Belong" packed with colorless noise. The band isn't bad enough to stir hatred, but flaws are pervasive. For starters, lead singer Lucien Walker can't shake a grating, nasal whine that sounds especially bad when Fin's guitars spiral into a metallic morass.

An energetic rhythm section helps, as do the harmonies of opener "8 AM," the pulsing gothic element of "Melt the Sugar" and the pensive, keyboard-driven vibe of closer "Where You Belong."

However, the calculated, major-label production gloss _ evident on many tracks, including the abuse song du jour (and first single) "Do You Remember" _ brings an unfortunate glare to the act's amateurish and superficial lyrics. Such wisdom pours forth from Walker as, "Do you suppose there's more to life out there?" (on "Disappear"), "I don't have a clue why I dive too deep!" ("Over My Head") and several sparkling gems from "Bored," including, "I go back home and write a poem/But all the words seem dumb/And I feel numb."

The feeling's contagious.

Rating: 2