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Keri Hilson Brings an 80s Element to Her Debut, Also Brings to it Her Own Brand of Warm-blooded Musicality
by Chris Cole
The power of a woman and the power of her pen could conjure up many images: maybe of a woman writing her own check for payment or as a strong songwriter who writes catchy songs about the human experience. Mosley Music/Interscope artist Keri Hilson is an example of the latter. Hilson is a master of intertwining words and melody. As much as she’s noted for her songwriting prowess, Hilson’s physical beauty is also something duly noted. She’s this tall, fit and slightly curvier woman (than in the past several months) with hazel eyes, who wears a frosted bob and a Cheshire cat smile full of slyness and mystery—Sheila E. circa 1985, anyone? It’s also refreshing that the twenty-something Hilson is a woman who isn’t afraid to wear form-fitting spandex onstage. It’s an ode to the 80s—specifically to the early 80s when pop-R&B music was more warm-blooded, which is pretty much the theme of Hilson’s In A Perfect World.
The 80s was a booming decade of consumerism and the music reflected that consumerist air of the 1980s. The mainstream music of the early 80s hadn’t reached the coldness that overtook much of 80s pop music. The pop music released in the early 80s, such as Michael Jackson’s monster-of-an-album, Thriller (1982) was still full of warm energy that was recognizably human. Jackson’s album had some of the celebratory freeness leftover from the 1970s. As the world moved deeper into the decade of the 80s, Americans became more repressed and slaves to society’s consumerist standards, and most importantly people felt they had to keep up with the Joneses. The temperature of music cooled down into cold drum machines, synthesizers and robot drone-like vocal deliveries. Thankfully, artists like Sheila E, Janet Jackson and even Madonna (more on the pop side of things) brightened up the darkness that was the 80s with girlish sex appeal. On her long-delayed first album, World, Keri Hilson decides to be human and show the sensual side of human nature, but not quite in the Adina Howard “Freak Like Me” way, but in a way that adds flesh and blood to the robot syndrome of current radio.
Hilson’s image is of empowerment like most female R&B singers (yes Beyonce, I’m talking about you), but Hilson displays the same laid-back, yet self-assured personality on Perfect that she shows in interviews, which is nice to see. That’s probably the reason why Hilson has so many fans around the world because she seems like a real person.
Hilson is a commercial/mainstream artist, evident by her choices of radio singles—“Turnin’ Me On,” “Energy” and “Knock You Down” are all easily-digestible singles, although “Turnin’ Me On” does have a raunchy out-of-this-planet quirkiness about it that would make George Clinton proud—her tame hit singles were just used as tools to get consumers to buy her album and discover her album’s meatier songs.
Perfect is a rapturous album mostly because of its ballads and slow jams, whatever you want to call them. Hilson drenches herself in sweet, yet heavy sex on the moaning slow jams, “Slow Dance” and “Make Love,” that are both so sultry that the listener can almost hear the lovemaking taking place. Hilson's superb vibrato technique makes her rich alto shine. On vocal runs, Hilson uses her vibrato to move various notes around like an instrument, which is what her voice is. Vocal runs are constant on Perfect. With the grinding bass lines of “Slow Dance” and “Make Love,” the songs are so genuinely horny that one can almost hear Prince’s primal growls in the background. Even on a sexy ballad like “Make Love” where it would be so easy for Keri Hilson to take the submissive role, she remains the dominant one during lovemaking. Maybe that’s what she means when sings, “tonight we’re going to do something different.” When Hilson sings, “I’m going to wait on you hand and foot like the king you are baby,” it may sound derivative, but it again shows Hilson’s human side. She seems to realize that love is about giving and taking. Hilson doesn’t seem like a gold digger, despite some of the materialistic references on “Get Your Money Up.” Lyrics like, “Now slide, slide, one of them black cards, if you got it then show me how you getting it/diamond’s a girl’s best friend/if you can provide them/I might even act a fool while you hitting it” make Hilson sound like a gold digger, but she counteracts that previous line by singing, “when you see me and my dames/blow a lot of change/at the bar, don’t get jealous, get your money up.” In the end, Hilson makes clear that she has her own money and just wants a man who also makes his money and therefore won’t feel jealous and/or insecure about her money. Sounds fair enough. And as for the “stop, now let me see your booty drop” line, it doesn’t have much to do with the theme of “Get Your Money Up,” but it’s obvious that Hilson made the song with the clubs in mind, and that people would dance to it.
The 80s was a booming decade of consumerism and the music reflected that consumerist air of the 1980s. The mainstream music of the early 80s hadn’t reached the coldness that overtook much of 80s pop music. The pop music released in the early 80s, such as Michael Jackson’s monster-of-an-album, Thriller (1982) was still full of warm energy that was recognizably human. Jackson’s album had some of the celebratory freeness leftover from the 1970s. As the world moved deeper into the decade of the 80s, Americans became more repressed and slaves to society’s consumerist standards, and most importantly people felt they had to keep up with the Joneses. The temperature of music cooled down into cold drum machines, synthesizers and robot drone-like vocal deliveries. Thankfully, artists like Sheila E, Janet Jackson and even Madonna (more on the pop side of things) brightened up the darkness that was the 80s with girlish sex appeal. On her long-delayed first album, World, Keri Hilson decides to be human and show the sensual side of human nature, but not quite in the Adina Howard “Freak Like Me” way, but in a way that adds flesh and blood to the robot syndrome of current radio.
Hilson’s image is of empowerment like most female R&B singers (yes Beyonce, I’m talking about you), but Hilson displays the same laid-back, yet self-assured personality on Perfect that she shows in interviews, which is nice to see. That’s probably the reason why Hilson has so many fans around the world because she seems like a real person.
Hilson is a commercial/mainstream artist, evident by her choices of radio singles—“Turnin’ Me On,” “Energy” and “Knock You Down” are all easily-digestible singles, although “Turnin’ Me On” does have a raunchy out-of-this-planet quirkiness about it that would make George Clinton proud—her tame hit singles were just used as tools to get consumers to buy her album and discover her album’s meatier songs.
Perfect is a rapturous album mostly because of its ballads and slow jams, whatever you want to call them. Hilson drenches herself in sweet, yet heavy sex on the moaning slow jams, “Slow Dance” and “Make Love,” that are both so sultry that the listener can almost hear the lovemaking taking place. Hilson's superb vibrato technique makes her rich alto shine. On vocal runs, Hilson uses her vibrato to move various notes around like an instrument, which is what her voice is. Vocal runs are constant on Perfect. With the grinding bass lines of “Slow Dance” and “Make Love,” the songs are so genuinely horny that one can almost hear Prince’s primal growls in the background. Even on a sexy ballad like “Make Love” where it would be so easy for Keri Hilson to take the submissive role, she remains the dominant one during lovemaking. Maybe that’s what she means when sings, “tonight we’re going to do something different.” When Hilson sings, “I’m going to wait on you hand and foot like the king you are baby,” it may sound derivative, but it again shows Hilson’s human side. She seems to realize that love is about giving and taking. Hilson doesn’t seem like a gold digger, despite some of the materialistic references on “Get Your Money Up.” Lyrics like, “Now slide, slide, one of them black cards, if you got it then show me how you getting it/diamond’s a girl’s best friend/if you can provide them/I might even act a fool while you hitting it” make Hilson sound like a gold digger, but she counteracts that previous line by singing, “when you see me and my dames/blow a lot of change/at the bar, don’t get jealous, get your money up.” In the end, Hilson makes clear that she has her own money and just wants a man who also makes his money and therefore won’t feel jealous and/or insecure about her money. Sounds fair enough. And as for the “stop, now let me see your booty drop” line, it doesn’t have much to do with the theme of “Get Your Money Up,” but it’s obvious that Hilson made the song with the clubs in mind, and that people would dance to it.
The singer switches the mood of Perfect to introspection and revelation, and the song titles are indicative of this mood. To name a few titles, there’s “Intuition,” “How Does it Feel” and “Alienated.” “Intuition” is Hilson at her harmonic best evidenced by the multilayered vocal run that opens the second verse, which channels Prince. “Intuition” isn’t Prince-like, but that particular part of the song seems like a subtle nod to the Purple One. Hilson sings about being insecure and knowing that her prospective love interest will inevitably “mess up.” That’s how most people feel when on the search for love and companionship.
“How Does it Feel” is a Timbaland-crafted thumper that has pounding bass that will blow speakers out if one is not careful. Hilson gets sassy on a dude when asking her ex if he can be empathetic and imagine himself in her place. Hilson sings the line, “I could take the knuckle route, but I got class,” is obviously an allusion to fist-fighting. This particular lyric is another example of Hilson making clear that she’s a tough cookie. Ms. Hilson also shows signs of her toughness on the album’s slithering intro where she sings, “baby please understand/Can’t have you all up on me, I roll with some killers man/…I see him muggin’ me/she don’t want no problems, I got a little bit of thug in me.”
“Alienated” is the centerpiece of Perfect because it’s this glittery symphony of heavenly synths and 90s drum programming courtesy of baby-faced maestro Cory Bold (formerly of the T.U.G. camp). Hilson admitted to the press that she originally wrote “Alienated” for Pussycat Doll Nicole Scherzinger’s solo album, but label politics prevented Nicole from releasing her version, so Hilson decided to keep “Alienated” for herself, and it’s a good thing she did because it ended up being the glistening sun of Perfect shining its light on the rest of the album.
The warmness of Perfect will heat your body, as well as heat your heart. With all Keri Hilson’s great unreleased songs and demos floating around the Internet, it’s impressive that she was able to compile the perfect mix of songs that would collectively convey a cohesive message. After listening to Perfect in its entirety, the listener can tell from polished song-crafting that Hilson has an extensive background in all the dynamics of the production of music. A debut album that shows craft and experience—now that’s what a debut album should accomplish.
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