The ever-present beat and flawless production values are the hallmarks of every single Janet Jackson product since the '80s. For all intents and purposes though, her latest album Damita Jo sounds more like "Jenny From The Block" than Janet from Rhythm Nation. On her new stuff, she's sporting a new J. Lo-ed-up name, the requisite 'it' hip-hopper of the month cameo (Kanye West) and a set of vocals so brittle and sharp that in an effort to hide them, the album consists primarily of whispers and overwhelming club samples. While she's still on the dance floor, though, Janet's not commanding the beats like she has in the past. The former sometimes cybernetic (think of her collaboration with Busta Rhymes on "What's It Gonna Be?"), sometimes sensual, pop-dominatrix moans over a bunch of flat beats stolen haphazardly from the last thirty years of pop.
This is not to say that Damita Jo is without a few gems. "Strawberry Bounce," a multi-layered and insanely catchy collection of dance-track samples, works despite Janet's weak presence. On the album's eponymous track, where she introduces her new persona, another strong groove-filled framework again supports Janet's vocals. The same merits work for the songs "R&B Junkie" and "All Nite." And to prove that she's still got it, on "I Want You," she even slows down the melody to show that she can carry a note with minimal musical support.
However, these cuts are rare on the sixty-nine minute stretch of flaccid beats and produced-to-death tracks. You realize the album is a multi-tiered failure when you hear the oddly-placed final track and first single, "Just A Little While." It starts out with a promising guitar riff, which is then mistakenly looped and spun out under a layer of toxic saccharine. By the end, it sounds like the soundtrack to a Six Flags commercial. This lack of imagination is depressing given the fact that Janet practically pushed musical sensuality farther than any other recent artist. Now, all we get is a sex track like "Moist" that rivals, only in terms of insipidness, the work of her teen-pop rivals.
Indeed, the dearth of creativity is present on every portion of the record, including the breasts-baring cover art and the lyrical content. As she's trying to get away with a copycat record, she--and her producers--seem to have truly forgotten the importance of audience-relevant songwriting. The spoken-word portions (e.g. "The Islands, Anguilla, that's my favorite, I love the islands, that's my escapism... I love humidity") are dreadfully banal and out-Glitter even Mariah.
Indeed, the low point of the album comes three tracks in with "Sexhibition," which takes the idea present in the song title and extrapolates it further, creating the new words "sexcapade," "sexploitation," and "sexplore."
As Janet would say, this is my sexit.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.