The top slot on the Billboard 200 Albums Chart- still
ostensibly relevant, even in the digital age- will as of this afternoon belong
to one of the most controversial men in the music industry today. An important
accomplishment- but it’s not the talent anyone’s concerned about, as fourth
studio album F.A.M.E., a egocentric liberation
of dirty pop, has managed a few decent reviews. That’s
actually the least of the man behind the music’s worries.
Watch: The Five Greatest Pop Songs Ever (Chris Brown Edition)
Watch: Chris Brown Performs On 'Dancing With The Stars'
I’d like to equate Chris Brown to an ex. We still hit each
other up occasionally, but I have to be honest, it’s a little awkward. We’d
been through a lot together- things started off pretty smoothly back in ’05,
back when he was a sweet-talker with confidence beyond his years, and with a few
slippery foot glides, our R&B relationship soon began. Songs like “Run It!”,
“Yo”, and “Kiss Kiss” can still get heavy rotation on my iPod any day, and as
an artist, Brown was (and still is) irreplaceable in the scope of R&B men today.
No one’s got the young swag, no one can deliver egocentric come-ons over brisk
beats quite like him. No one is quite as wholly
and fearlessly entertaining in the hip-hop industry than Chris Brown.
Perhaps that’s the problem.
As much as many Brown fans focus on the good times, it’s
been six years between us now, and unfortunately, that peak on the chart of Brown’s career
isn’t marked by his music- instead, the entire legacy of Chris is forever
eclipsed by that fateful 2009 evening where he engaged in a physical altercation with
then-girlfriend Robyn Fenty, best known as fellow pop artist Rihanna. Chris instantaneously
went from superstar to social pariah, and regardless of how many apologies he
gave in every way that he could, things obviously haven’t been the same since.
It’s a struggle for Chris as well as his supporters- one that was most visible
last week, when Chris’ frustration with The Rihanna Effect came to a head
behind the scenes of ABC’s Good Morning
America, in a still-undocumented rage that led to a broken window.
I don’t think that there’s doubt when I say that Chris’ two albums post-incident (Graffiti and F.A.M.E.) would have been better received by the masses if it weren’t
for the giant elephants in the room. There’s very few allusions that anything
is amiss in either of them, and they still present some of his best music yet.
For example, Graffiti’s
first single “I Can Transform Ya” is his hardest-hitting single and flashiest
video to date, a furiously aggressive attempt to negate all the controversy. Cohorts
Swizz Beatz and Lil’ Wayne lending verses over roaring electric guitar and
sharp thumps, Chris still talks a good game to the ladies, promising to “change
you up” with all the gifts you could ever want. The accompanying clip is four
minutes of visual candy, featuring never-before-seen digital effects and some
of Chris’ slickest and intricate choreography of his career. It’s a pure swag-and-dance-fest,
and should have been one of the more
successful moments in his career. But it only peaked at #20 on Billboard’s Hot
100 Singles Chart, stunted by stations who would refuse to play his music.
However, two years later, after disappointing sales of Graffiti, we are watching F.A.M.E. make history in Brown’s career.
This situation brings about several important questions: do we as a
music-consuming nation forgive Chris Brown? If so, after how long? Would Chris
Brown be treated differently if he wasn’t a hip-hop artist, or if he wasn’t a
black artist? Just how much of an artist’s musical career should be impacted by
their personal actions?
These answers largely vary from person-to-person. For me,
Brown is still that awkward ex. I have no problem enjoying Chris when the beats
are hard, the songs are fun, and he’s just getting his ego on. In fact, that’s
when I like him best. The time where I personally can’t listen to him is when
he’s trying to turn on his baby-making façade. More out of my personal respect
for women, the fact that his musical sexual prowess consistently reminds me of
domestic violence makes it hard for me to stomach.
I do think that Brown is unfortunately stinted by being a young black hip-hop artist. The fact of the matter is, while Brown’s situation
is a deeply intense and thoroughly unacceptable one, he wouldn’t be given the reputation that he
has were he not so disposable to mainstream society. If he was, say, an actor on the number one sitcom in America (Charlie
Sheen) or someone publicly adored by the masses of the masses, he might have less of a time keeping his glory. It may not have
anything to do with him being black. But in my personal opinion, seeing how
Black Hollywood (which arguably as a whole has been very disposable) has been treated by mainstream media
for years now, I’m more inclined to believe it does.
But in the scope of R&B? Like I’ve said, the thing that
will continually keep Chris Brown alive is the fact that there’s just no
competition in his field. He is the best male R&B entertainer alive,
period. So I highly doubt, whether you’ve decided to forgive him or not, that
he’s going to go anywhere anytime soon.
It’s still up to you: out of my personal respect for women,
I don’t think I necessarily can say that I would “forgive” Chris Brown. The
best song in the world can’t erase the past, and I was raised not to disrespect
women. It’s as simple as that. It may be different had it not been in the media
spotlight, but it was. And there’s no changing that. There are still millions of silent victims of domestic violence, and those men don’t need to go and apologize on Larry King Live. Meanwhile, in the light of fame, your apology doesn’t mend as much as it does
further remind people of what it was that required you publicly be sorry. Obviously, forgiveness and acceptance of certain events come with time, but it continues to pop up with the various childish acts of immaturity, almost to the point of unreason. So until the media is willing to give it a final rest, it will continue to be a fierce debate.
Either way, Chris Brown doesn’t need my forgiveness; Chris
Brown doesn’t owe me a damn thing. I do think he owes maturity and respect to
his younger fans who grow up with him. But those supporters are the exact ones who
are flocking to re-support their leader. So perhaps he’s forgiven after all.
--
Terron R. Moore
is awesome. And lemon-scented. Follow him on Twitter.
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