I like to get drunk and listen to R. Kelly by myself. Doing it with other people there is cool but, more often than not, I just do it alone. It's better that way. I get my hands on a twelve pack of the cheapest ice beer available or maybe a bottle of Chymes whiskey (if it's a special occasion) and then sit down and listen, really listen, to R. Kelly. Why do I do this? I think it has something to do with genius, importance.
This importance is cultural and very difficult to translate into words. When I try to talk about Kells or, rather, IT (the attraction towards and value of R. Kelly in our culture) with my friends I want to speak exclusively in youtube videos, to make everyone in the room's brain communicate with ultimately pertinent, archetypical images rather than linear language. I guess, when it comes to Chocolate Factory, I am dyslexic.
As such, the discourse usually breaks down pretty quick ending with me pointing at the screen of a lap top, a lukewarm 40 in my hand, eyes bulging, a sort of blissed out retard-grin on my face and then the word "SEE?" spraying out of my mouth over and over. It's communication at it ugliest or, perhaps, it's most idealistic. I want people to understand through osmosis or respiration rather than any kind of structured Saussurian operation. Because, ultimately, R. Kelly's genius is beyond reason, beyond logic and beyond sanity because it is, in fact, INsane.
You see, R. Kelly is Vinny Van Gogh powered by nuclear fusion: his act of self mutilation didn't just happen one time but is a constant process, like the earths rotation or the Catholic concept of the crucifixion. Of course, that way of looking at it excludes the galaxy of nutty shit Van Gogh must have (MUST HAVE) done without us finding out about it. But then, even this adds to the overall mystique of R. Kelly: He is living like an animal inside of a self-imposed Zoo and perhaps it is warping (or further warping) his mind. He is dealing with the super modern concept of celebrinsanity but even in this increasingly common phenomenon he is unique. His asceticism the constant self-infliction of triumph.
When you look at other famous pop cultural/musical lunatics they are pretty boring in comparison. People like Michael Jackson, James Brown, Elvis Presley or Brian Wilson created incredible (commercially successful) music in the beginning and middle of their careers but then went totally nuts and had their subsequent output not only marred in reputation but also become noticeably inferior. They all have or had a "They're fun to laugh at but now their music is shitty" atmosphere stinking up their artistic space. R. Kelly, on the other hand, belongs in the same echelon as someone like a Daniel Johnston or an Ol' Dirty Bastard; guys whose mental instability not only left their musical output unscathed(ish) but whose art benefited from their tenuous relationship with reality. In a sense, their separation from "reality" (by which I only mean cultural standards of value) allows these artists to create their own reality where their core values are the only thing that matters. I am referring to artistic creation at its purest and most awesome: the reshaping of perception.
And these personal universes, captured or reflected so elegantly through art, are indeed "real" (both in terms of legitimacy and comin' straight correct). Where others posture in their feelings and become enamored of their own pretense, R. Kelly is actually "about" something even if it's just nailing girls and smoking cigars.
But then there's the question of "How can you tell he's crazy?" and to that I direct you to his music, his videos, his live appearances and everything else. It's like Justice Potter Stewart's description of pornography: I can't define it but I know it when I see it. And as soon as I saw "Trapped In The Closet" I knew I had seen madness. But, let me take a moment here to address TITC: it's fucking nuts but I hate talking about it because it has become worn thin by an almost inexhaustible stream of hack jokes. It's entered the realm of cheap Jesus and Hitler zingers that any dum dum can (and will) make. In terms of sheer hack-itude, "TITC" is the tops.
That aside, I know it's a pretty silly piece of work. But it's also kind of a masterpiece. Some of the rhymes he uses are truly amazing and the whole thing is deliciously ornate and sits above all those stiff, antiquated rock operas (except maybe Tommy) in terms of sheer vision and clarity. But neither it's overwhelming goofiness or its musical achievement can hide the fact that its friggin' crazy.
Real Talk is another prime example. He's distilled the essence of an angry conversation and combined it with...R&B. It's not that he attempted this harrowing feat that makes me think he's disconnected with reality but rather its his assertion than there is tremendous value in him doing it. Everyone gets into fights, we know what they're like. But Kell wants to do us one better because only HE can bring out the true realness of the situation; by singing one half of an argument. To heighten the realness, there's a fake fight at the end of the video. A FAKE FIGHT FOR YOUTUBE TO COMPREHEND THE REALNESS OF THE SITUATION.
But, I feel like Faulkner now when he admitted the ultimate failure of his novels (or so he says). I recognize that I was unable to communicate Robert Kelly's insanity to you. It's just so hard. But you can't watch the last 40 seconds or so of the "Step in the Name of Love" video and tell me its not fucking bonkers. Because it is. Consider what might have been going through his mind as it was devised and filmed. I cannot begin to understand. I want to but I cannot.
Some might call this kind of behavior "balls", but balls insinuates that somebody is doing something they know is shocking or brave or contrary to the standard practices of whatever culture or subculture is in control of the situation. When it comes to R. Kelly balls are not an issue, cannot be an issue, because he belongs to a one man culture: The Robert Kellians, the Great Kell-Lee; an itty bitty society that is somehow completely unique from the standards and practices of America or even planet Earth. If Antoine de Saint Exupéry's Little Prince visited R. Kelly's planet he would surely find that it was strange and maybe that it was scary (you know, to like, a little French astronaut) but not in any respect SAD because sadness is an emotion for men not completely confident in their own being (there would also be fur coats there). R. Kelly is a furnace of confidence. Scratch that, it's not even confidence. For him it is simply the way things ought to be.
You think he thought twice before beginning to wear a mask everywhere? Certainly not. What about releasing a single titled "Heaven I Need A Hug" in response to his indictment for child pornography? Not even for a second. Or how about creating what is, perhaps, the single most ridiculous song ever to be played in front of a crowd numbering in the tens of thousands: "Sex In The Kitchen"( for the sake of brevity I will here omit all the reasons the video I posted for SITK blows my mind. I invite you to watch it and see if it does the same for you, note how it does and then maybe try to figure out why I find it to be simply bananas.)
In this sense he is representative of us becoming the people we want to be. I envy him immensely for existing exactly how he thinks he should exist. That fact that he exists the way he wants is almost an artistic statement in itself or is at the very least one about cultural being. So then if he is, as I say, important the key to the overall cultural value of Kell's mere existence is this: though he may be deranged he is also a fabulously talented vocalist and (even more importantly) one smooth motherfucker. His every act is peppered with a sort of magnetic pull that supersedes even the greatest politicians and cult leaders in terms of sheer smoothness. I WANT to hang out with him so bad and that's because he is so inviting; so cool. I've seen enough of his music videos to know that not only are awkward white boys accepted into the pied pipers parties (something he calls himself in "Step In The Name of Love" and a reference so blindsiding that I nearly shit myself upon initial aural contact) but that, once there, they will have a good goddamn time. And, beyond that, I know that anyone who says they don't want to party with Kell says that only because of political reasons, be those reasons based on a set of anti black, anti hip hop, anti pop culture or anti peeing on underaged girls values.
People really dwell on those sort of things, particularly when there's an easy punchline in them like urinating on a 16 year old girl's face. I suppose for that particular instance its OK to get a little stuck. The act did not just break two cultural taboos, it smashed them to fucking smithereens. Of course, the age of consent issue's value is a debatable, relative concern. The girl in the tapes age was disputed being 14 or 16 but when it was 14 and the girls identity supposedly revealed she and her family said it wasn't her beneath the golden arch (so to speak). So, considering her nebulous age (probably 16), perhaps an appraisal should be made about the malleability of values. In Canada the age of consent is 16. In Greece it's 15. In Hungary and Italy and Iceland its 14. In Spain it's 13. In about a billion other countries its' between 16 and 14. And then, in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Maryland and a bunch of other states it's 16. Are these places all underdeveloped shitholes? No, they're just places.
As far as the peeing thing goes, its gross but it doesn't hurt anybody (unless maybe its gets in their eyes or something, but buy the ticket take the ride).
I suppose the reason I bring this up is that I'm just tired of fielding the argument at all, particularly when you acknowledge the extremely ugly histories of other famous artists: H.P. Lovecraft was a racist, T.S. Eliot was an anti-Semite, Ezra Pound was a propagandist for the Fascists, Ayn Rand hated homosexuals and so on and so forth. Hell, look at more recent shit if you want. Keith Moon ran over a guy's head and he's a bonafide legend. All those hippies drove VW's that were built on precise, dependable Nazi engineering. Nobody tells Wavy Gravy to eat shit and die. So was what R. Kelly did wrong (and yes, he did do it. even though he was acquitted the jury said they knew it was him in the video which doesn't exactly make sense. also, he married Aliyah when she just 16)? More than probably yes. I'm of the camp that believes that age of consent laws function to protect girls who may be emotionally unequipped to handle intercourse and all the baggage that comes with the act (but then of course opinions are like assholes, bablee babloo bablah) but I for one still do not believe that this whole incident takes anything away from his cultural significance. In fact, it even elevates my previous point about his allure.
What I mean is that I have no doubt in my mind that when R. Kelly pissed on that girl's face he did it in a way that was more romantic than your parents last anniversary. The boy can't help it: he is a fucking chick magnet. The girl was certainly more than game, not coerced and the entire thing was not only consensual but maybe even heavenly for her. Keep in mind, after all of his bullshit, he is still "...black, handsome, I sing plus I'm rich and... a flirt." Oh, and a lot of his songs are absolute, total PERFECTION. He could have added that too.
Now, as much as I hate for you to have to think back aaaaaall the way to the beginning of this increasingly overwrought essay, I need to ask you to do it now. Earlier I discussed my attempts to not so much convince my friends of R. Kelly's value but rather convert them. For the most part people resist. Their resistance is, like I've already mentioned, a political posture. They'll say "They're not into this kind of music" (by which I assume they mean R&B, the genre of which Robert proclaimed himself the king of in the outstanding single "I'm A Flirt") and to that I have to say "Well, fuck that dude, neither am I...BUT..." Then they'll laugh and think this is all a big joke.
The people who I've learned are actually my best friends get Robert Kelly's importance. It's because they're smarter than my other friends, have an aversion to pop cultural pretense and are generally more soulful (I mean soulful like Robert Johnson or James Brown rather than Saint Augustine De Hippo). They are more in tune to whats "real", the genuine value of cultural phenomenon in relation to life, and this means that they are ready to acknowledge the value of other cultures contributions and feelings more easily. So it's here I point out the big, mask wearing elephant in the room: black culture.
This may be some extremely touchy stuff for a 22 year old white boy to try to and sort out but I'm going or give it a shot. The generally terrible cartoon The Boondocks acknowledged the black community's proclivity to Kell so now I'm going to in an awkward, PC sort of way.
It's no secret that R&B is generally "Black music". The majority of R. Kelly's audience is African American. Before I even liked Rob Kelly's music I was on a trip to Washington DC with a group called the National Youth Leadership Forum, which was kind of a scam that claimed to be grooming America's future politicians or elite or some shit. There was a black kid there who I usually ate lunch with even though we never really spoke to each other. Nothing racial about that, we were just equally quiet and shy. One day on the bus a black girl (Christ I wish I knew what the appropriate, prescribed means of discourse for this was) saw that he had the then fresh out da kitchen Chocolate Factory record and they talked about how awesome it was for 15 minutes. The former statue blossomed while talking about how hot the album was. THEN one of the chaperons came over, a guy who was mid-to-late forties (maybe even in his fifties), black, tough as nails and also a former Major in the army and HE started talking about how awesome it was. This was not an artificial display to cozy up the kids either. This guy knew the jams.
So what the hell does that even mean? I dunno, that I am a disconnected cracker I guess. That I need to do more to connect to other ideas of cultural value to eliminate misunderstanding and, in doing so, eliminate hate and fear to boot. The supreme worth of Robert Kelly is that perhaps somewhere in understanding him or rather his phenomenon we can make this country a more bearable place to live for everyone. Am I suggesting R. Kelly is the key to world peace? No, that would be retarded.
I'm suggesting that we just be real, drink a Beast Ice and listen to Ignition.
Please.
-Bradley
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