cd reviews R&B
Maxwell, "BLACKsummers' Night" (Sony)
The best way to listen to Maxwell's new CD is with the volume turned all the way up. The R&B artist didn't take a turn toward heavy metal during the eight years he has spent between releasing albums; this one, like his previous three, is full of meditative jams written on the continuum between ardor and heartache. But as genteel and deceptively traditionalist as is Maxwell's veneer, he always has been bent on taking urban music forward; he just takes obsessively careful, small steps, best appreciated through close attention.
And he believes, passionately, in dynamics. Many of the songs here are structured around a short musical phrase, played on a keyboard or guitar, on which everything else loops and builds. These details are different from the hooks usually heard on the radio. They don't grab; they're not compressed for maximum brightness. Maxwell's vocals move in conversation with these elements, growing into the space above and around them.
This doesn't mean Maxwell isn't a great seducer. He's known as a ladies' favorite and purveyor of "babymaking" soundtracks, and many songs, whether the directly seductive "Stop the World" or the mournful but still sexy "Pretty Wings," drip plenty of candle wax. But his music is libidinally compelling because it is complex.
For all the talk that Maxwell's covered in thrown panties wherever he walks, he often sounds somber, resentful and wrecked. Pop doesn't get much more desolate than "Playing Possum," an elegy for a sweetheart who's literally departed. And "Fistful of Tears" is a plea for mutual catharsis that's so raw it almost fails to communicate.
For people who like their pop delicate and unapologetically deep, this is one for turning up loud and wallowing.
ANN POWERS, LOS ANGELES TIMES
