If there was one lesson to take away from the Hulk in The Avengers, it's that repressing anger will get you nowhere. Once you learn to deal with it and even harness it, then you can defeat your demons (or, in the Hulk's case, a Norse god). Maybe someone should take Chris Brown to the cineplex, because Fortune, his fifth album and his third since pleading guilty to assaulting then girlfriend Rihanna in February 2009, furthers the uncomfortable and frustrating disconnect between Brown's hotheaded personal life and his oddly edgeless musical persona.
Fortune's lyrics largely focus on his favored themes: clubbing, getting women to take off their clothes, and swagginess. Plenty of accomplished R&B lotharios tread that territory, but Brown lacks R. Kelly's commitment to fantasy or Usher's raw-nerve honesty. The only time the uncensored Brown seems to emerge is on "Bassline," where he declares, "You heard about my image/But I could give a flying motherf--- who's offended." The sentiment is wildly unlikable, but at least it feels honest.
Brown's colorful hooks and splashy electronic innovation have continued to bring him success post-Rihanna, but almost nothing here swerves out of Fortune's featherweight club-funk cruising lane. What's worse, the album doesn't resolve, or even ask, any of the fascinating questions about what makes Brown tick. The Hulk is still in there — look no further than his Twitter feed for proof — but as long as Brown keeps Bruce Banner behind the microphone, Fortune fades.
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EW.com
Chris Brown’s fifth studio album, “Fortune” (RCA), is a pure-pop candy cane, meant to be enjoyed, consumed and forgotten. Thinking would ruin everything. At its best, it does its job very well – a mix of bangers and ballads as instant and insistent as anything on commercial radio.
Like most of the singer’s albums, its mixture of smut, vulnerability, menace and dancefloor celebration tells us next to nothing about what is going on between Chris Brown’s ears, which is probably for the best. In his most expressive moments, Brown plays a not very likable character: a demanding rogue who wants sex, and wants it now, no questions asked. “No is not an option,” he declares in the groupie-love ode “Biggest Fan.”
“Nice thighs, nice waist,” he oozes in “Strip,” then adds, almost as an afterthought, “and you know I can’t forget about your face.” The relationships in these songs don’t require much in the way of conversation or intellect, and Brown’s narrator clearly prefers it that way.
Some listeners will never forgive Brown for beating up his former girlfriend, Rihanna, several years ago, though Rihanna seems to have done so, recently collaborating with Brown on two remixes. Brown pleaded guilty to assaulting the singer and was sentenced to five years probation, one year of counseling and six months of community service. Yet his career has continued to sail along. His 2011 release, “F.A.M.E.,” became his first chart-topper and won a Grammy Award as best R&B album.
If Brown has any regrets or has experienced any personal growth, he’s kept that out of his music. On “Fortune,” he makes one oblique reference to his past on “Don’t Judge Me,” in which he pleads with a new lover to “take me as I am, not who I was,” otherwise, he suggests, “it could get ugly.”
It’s a sentiment in keeping with an album that is all about surface needs and shallow relationships. Little wonder the music cuts to the chase with ear-grabbing efficiency. The snaky robo-reggae feel of “Bassline,” the way martial drums rise and disappear throughout “Till I Die,” the star-burst keyboards that paint the background sky in “Sweet Love” – the production by a trove of collaborators (Pop Wansel, Danja and Polow da Don among them) is often dazzling in the details.
Brown’s voice is serviceable but hardly exceptional. He sounds best when he’s just a background accessory, strutting onto the dancefloor for “Turn Up the Music” and chanting on “Trumpet Lights” that “I’m gonna be the one you love,” as if saying it enough can make it so.
2/4Chicago Tribune
Brown's fifth album includes a song called Don't Judge Me. But even if we could forget his assault on Rihanna in 2009, there's much other ugly stuff here to judge. Strip comes with a Benny Hill bounce and all the nuance of a beered-up uni lad as Brown bellows "Panties! Bra! Take it off!" The song 2012 is an apocalypse-prompted come-on, a slow jam outrageous enough (the end of the world obliges him to get it on in an "earth-shakin'" way) to sound like parody trio The Lonely Island. Even an extraordinarily great album might not eclipse Brown's past. And this is not a great album.
2/5The Guardian
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