By shelz.
Old school R&B stalwarts will tell you in a heartbeat, this over-sexed, electro-produced nonsense the kids pass off as soul these days is a bunch of new school poo. There aren’t any instruments, just some guy and his computer. None of these “singers” can sing and most of the songs are about dropping trou for somebody you don’t even know, then kicking them out when you’re done. Where’s the romance, the fire, the passion?
Some think Kem Owens has it. His first two albums both went gold, a huge accomplishment considering his adult contemporary composition; a 50/50 split between soul and jazz. He stands out in a world of oversingers and digitally enhanced crooners who couldn’t find Middle C if their lives depended on it. Now he has a third album to pass along to his anxious fanbase, Intimacy.
The album is a personal look at love and relationships; weighted towards the highs and late night carnal sessions with a man who adores his woman immensely and would do anything for her. He thinks the sun rises on her beautiful face, her curves are heavensent and her toes are yummy (He said it, not me.) Regardless of what she does, he’ll be there for her.
All of this baby-you’re-the-most-wonderful-thing-God-ever-did talk is smeared over skeletal new jazz production, laid back organs and quiet guitars. Little swaths of piano and buried horn stabs round out the champagne, rose petal and bubble bath party. Can you feel it girl?
Saying Intimacy is a case study in the unexciting would of course bring out the claws of chicks who think if you don’t like Kem, you must be a huge fan of Akinyele. While the latter is definitely not true, the former is unfortunately. A song or two of this soft R&B is definitely great for a theme evening, but it quickly falls into the background as white noise.
There are some standout tracks though. “Share My Life” has a predictable yet beautiful progression with a delicate acoustic guitar in the lead. Kem raises his voice above his normal simmering whisper, reminiscent of a young Lionel Richie, as he delivers his normal shtick, just wrapped in a prettier package.
“Why Would You Stay” chronicles a cheating man’s contrite attempt at earning his broken hearted woman’s forgiveness. It thankfully breaks up the lovey dovey monotony. The faithful Kem takes a respite as his trifling alter ego begs beautifully over the piano, strings and melancholy guitar. Kem veers off the path of romanticism with “A Mother’s Love,” a song that will be well regarded more for its sentiment than its sound, even though the second half is way more interesting that the first.
The lone feature, Jill Scott, adds some oomph to “Golden Days,” a song during which Kem does his best Al Jarreau impression. Kem’s jazz half takes control here. The awkward construction of the song is almost tribal and the piano darts in and out perfectly. Jill Scott’s personality takes this song to another level as she delivers a frenetic spoken word enough to remind you of Cee-Lo. It’s a beautiful song.
Intimacy is a sturdy work. Kem stays in his lane, which is unfortunately dated compared to these new fangled boy toys who want the neighbors to know your name. His brand of woman worship does find Kem in the banal end of things sometimes, but for those who remember the passion of the quiet storm, Kem and his Intimacy will be a welcome, albeit lackluster blast from the past.
Out of 5
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This is actually a pretty good album. If more of today’s male singers put together albums of substance like this one, the state of r&b would be in better shape. One thing about Kem’s albums are that they have to grow on you. They definitely become better with time.