"Talentless" is a word I often hear in reference to T-Pain, and it bothers me. I'm no Pain shill -- in fact, I think that between promoting fame-whoring with his promiscuous attitude toward guest spots and inspiring an industry of Autotuned apostles, he's done more harm than good. But the dude is not untalented -- first of all, he's capable of pop genius (not even months of ubiquity could hinder my love for the stripped-down digital doo-wap of "Buy U a Drank"). For a chronic guest star, he's self-sufficient -- a writer/producer/performer whose sound is identifiably his, a-alikes be damned. For the past year, he's been the rare sure-bet in the increasingly chaotic and unpredictable world of pop music, suggesting that he has an ear tuned to collective desire. If promotion is an art, T-Pain is a master.
I mention this because I believe that T-Pain is what's known in Tyraland as "the girl with all the potential in the world." His third album, Thr33 Ringz is so packed with missed opportunities, it feels like it's jumping through hoops to underwhelm you. Step right up and hear T-Pain redefine the word "bamboozled" as "chopped and skrewed" (on the album's second single of that name) for no real reason beyond being able to turn out a track that sounds as if it's been given the Houston treatment. There's no lyrical cleverness here. There's nothing that suggests that being given shit from girls your sweaty, scary ass is trying to pick up should be referred to as "chopped and screwed." There's no dismemberment, no fucking, no lightbulbs, no bok choy.
That kind of unwillingness to follow-through an OK idea pervades. "Long Lap Dance" exists because, as T-Pain explains, "Don't you feel dumb when shorty come over to you and start getting it on / Then the song is over? / That's so wrong, so I made a long lap dance song." From the mission statement, I'd expect an epic, perhaps a suite split into parts as simple as the begging, middle and post-pseudo-coital end. Instead, T-Pain delivers a conventional pop song in under five minutes (that I do admit is infectious in spite of itself). For all of his teasing, he's worse than a whore who says she's blowing you but is actually giving you an embellished hand job. "Superstar Lady," one of several samey Miami bass-y bangers, intends to paint the picture of a girl via celebrity comparisons ("She got a stomach like Ciara / Hair like Beyoncé / Gabrielle Union's smile / Lips like Ashanti"), but it can't even get something as simple as being clichéd right ("I'm K-Ci and Jo Jo, she is my Devante"?!?) and becomes a sub-MacFarlane parade of references. With the exception of Ludacris, whose limber flow and OCD-like attention to detail are a match for the screwiness of "Chopped," even the guest stars seem haphazardly placed. Chris Brown is virtually unidentifiable as the hooker of the warm and lovable "Freeze." Lil Wayne, Kanye and T.I. similarly do nothing of consequence. I know they're there to move units, but that's all they're there for. I mean, for all the time he spends hooking up, T-Pain could be cultivating a real artistry of collaboration, something akin to Bjork or M.I.A. And yet, whenever anyone's on the mic but him, the most overwhelming sound is that of T-Pain asleep on the couch.
See, the problem is not that T-Pain can't, it's that he won't. He's lazy right down to his trademark, that digitized voice effect that's slapped on after recording and given little thought before. T-Pain tends to stretch out his words to get his Autotuned warble on, but then he's just creating a playground of vowel sounds. They slide, they swing, they see-saw, over and over and over. His gimmick tramples almost everything he lays out for it, which is unfortunate since T-Pain's best production is his most delicate, like the gorgeously space-filled "Therapy," which makes electro out of some pops, some whistles and some beatboxing. T-Pain's gimmick is also the clearest example of his tendency to self-sabotage, except (luckily?) most of Ringz isn't worth preserving. If it were, hearing it would be agony. As it is, it's just Pain.
Rihanna + T-Pain = Things I love to hate. And hate to love. And are everywhere. And are boring, yet catchy.
Posted by: inothernews | November 13, 2008 at 11:57 AM
"Chopped and Skrewed" is literally painful to listen to. No, seriously, my ears started bleeding in protest.
Not good.
Posted by: Laurie | November 13, 2008 at 03:08 PM
That's what I said!
Chopped and Screwed as a title makes no sense, but I still love that song.
I thought I hated T-Pain, but whenever I hear him on a song, I wanna beg him for forgiveness on how wrong I was.
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Posted by: Cass | November 13, 2008 at 05:01 PM
I agree with you on all fronts... though I'm a bit surprised you had no comment about "Keep Going" which is *gasp* WITHOUT autotune (though it probably still does, just not cranked up to the Cher level).
Posted by: Icarus | November 13, 2008 at 05:05 PM
i used to, at one point, call him "t-painful", but then i realized how much i liked a lot of the songs he's guested in (and "buy u a drank").
Posted by: john | November 13, 2008 at 11:53 PM
Ugh. No....T-Pain should just quit.
Posted by: MobPrincess | November 14, 2008 at 07:19 AM
thank you for this review Rich!
Posted by: Molly Lambert | November 16, 2008 at 04:32 AM
At first glance, I thought you wrote "Taintless" instead of "Talentless." That would have been a whole other article.
Posted by: Viv | November 17, 2008 at 03:43 PM
Rich,
Was there a rash of "unofficial" Chopping and Screwing going on? If not, why does Mr. Pain feel the need to explain that "you've OFFICIALLY been chopped and screwed"??
I can't lie, this song playing in the strip club = what walking into heaven feels like.
I also get a little glimpse of heaven when he says "WiscAnsin", on the leading single!
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