I Am An R&B Sadist

She never really looks that happy anyways

I was a little undewhelmed with Jill Scott's last album. I mean, I still have many of the songs from Beautifully Human in my iPod, but her bubbly effervescence was kind of annoying. Song after song of love making and submission; I Am Not Afraid, Golden, Whatever and Spring Summer Feeling...her fanbase was obvious aware of her marriage to that man she lamented over on her first album. Had Lyzel stole her thunder?

After hearing the sampler to her latest effort, The Real Thing, and reading all about her and Lyzel's break up in Essence Magazine, I found myself a little more interested in Jilly from Philly. Then it hit me. I like my R&B singers more when they are crying, out of love and resistant! I am an R&B sadist.

Mary J. Blige is probably the biggest victim of this phenomenon. The drug-induced cries on My Life is her best album. After sobering up and meeting the man of her dreams, many of Mary's fans are missing those passion drenched break up songs that were her claim to fame. Now, Mary is free from her chains and a recovered, fierce woman. But something in me wants to hear that angst present in Be Happy or the longing of You Bring Me Joy. Tell me you didn't contemplate your own existence after hearing Never Wanna Live Without You. Even when old Mary was happy, she was sad.

Mariah Carey is the queen of comebacks, rejuvinating her audience after a devastating public breakdown. I have to say, I enjoy the Mariah of Breakdown, Shake It Off and We Belong Together way more than the pop/inspirational numbers she sang in the beginning of her career. I like my R&B singers broken, but bandaged. Working toward completion, but not yet there.

Sure, this could be a commentary on how I view African Americans in media, or my jaded stance in relationships. But I am not alone. The pleading and begging of R&B singers has been a requirement of the genre. R&B singers have always lusted and yearned for their beloved. Happy songs mostly mean crossover hits. If you check out the R&B Billboard charts today, you will see that half of the songs in the top ten are sad songs. If we are sexin' or dancin' we are crying.

Can you imagine Amy Winehouse, fluttering and free of her worries? I want Lauryn Hill back, not for her uplifting songs, but the grit I felt when she moaned When It Hurts So Bad and Ex Factor. My love for 80s music was even full of angst. Superstar by Luther Vandross featured a powerless man, almost in stalker-mode. I even dig the introspective, moody Prince of The Beautiful Ones and Pop Life. Some of my favorite songs are depressing as hell: Never Can Say Goodbye by Isaac Hayes, Is It A Crime by Sade, Distant Lover by Marvin Gaye. There is something quite pleasing when I hear new schoolers like Please Don't Go by Tank and the sorrows of Keyshia Coles. And don't even get me started on my Al Green obssession! I think I might have a problem!

I like sad singers. I am an R&B sadist. When my favorite singers get a little happy, they lose a little intrigue, to me. Happiness is an upfront emotion, that is eager to be expressed to many. But to those who can really dig in the bellows of human existence, they deserve praise for their vulnerabilities. It's that, or I just get off on other folks' sadness.