Once Again, R. Kelly Produces, Seduces

In a much lampooned interview—his first after being acquitted of child pornography charges in 2008—R. Kelly pledged to Black Entertainment Television (B.E.T) that his next album would feature less explicitly sexual material. Other hilarious responses —“When you say teenage, how old are we talking?”—aside, the idea that R. Kelly could write an enjoyable album without his signature candid carnality roused skepticism at best—which is what made “Love Letter,” released just in time for the holiday season, such a pleasant surprise. From its cover—a sepia-toned photo of Kels crooning to the heavens in which he looks like a young Ray Charles in sunglasses and a bowtie—to its suspiciously innocuous tracklist (no trace of the words “sex” or “body”), Kelly’s 10th studio album seemed poised to present an unfamiliar experience for many of his fans. The wonder, then, is that R. Kelly still seduces while producing one of his finest and most accessible albums yet.

One of the keys to Kelly’s longevity has always been that he operates so well in both sexual and spiritual modes—that the same man who wrote “Bump n’ Grind” wrote “I Believe I Can Fly”—but this album fuses the two in a way that he has never attempted. Kelly remains shamelessly frank, even over the top about his love for women, but here his passion seems whole, grateful, and uncharacteristically devoid of egotism. “Love Letter” proves that Kelly can achieve and convey transcendence through the redeeming power of love and not just through meditations on his own greatness.

This is not to say that Kelly is not great in his usual mode—and his gift for groove and arrangement is only highlighted here by liberal use of classic soul orchestration. As its title suggests, this is an album of declarations across great distances. “Did you get my card?” asks the excellent, pulsating title track; “Can you hear me?” pleads the impassioned “Radio Message.” But it’s also about a certain spirit of holiday giving, and Kelly is nothing if not generous. He takes a moment at the outset to dedicate the record to all of his female listeners. Indeed the album’s mood is often one of camaraderie, as he shows on his “remix” to “Love Letter,” which is essentially the same song plus Christmas lyrics and sleigh bells: “Kels is having a Christmas party and everybody’s V.I.P.!” It’s hard not to smile at both versions’ exhaustive toast to all things good, including “cocktails, happy hours, wedding bells, baby showers / Vacations, sail boats, with the ones you love the most,” and it soon ceases to matter whether your grin is borne of ridicule or genuine happiness.

But it’s not all happy hours and baby showers on “Love Letter,” and Kelly is most impressive when he slips out of his contemporary R&B groove and goes straight soul. Whether grappling with the frustration of a lover grown distant on “Not Feelin’ the Love” or the anguish of parting from a loved one on “How Do I Tell Her,” Kelly is consistently raw and convincing. The swelling strings of grandiose first single “When A Woman Loves”—the classy, black-and-white video of which was our initial glimpse of the album way back in August—perhaps showcase this classic influence best, and the song is one of his most heartfelt ballads in years.

The album’s crowning achievement is “Love Is,” a male/female duet featuring up-and-coming K. Michelle of the same label. The two proclaim their mutual affection in unabashedly delightful terms (“Might as well call me a telegram, baby / ’Cause darling, that’s just how you send me”) and the upbeat rhythms twinkle euphorically from start to finish. If this song is any indication, K. Michelle—who holds her own with the self-proclaimed king of R&B—is one to watch, especially as her Kelly-produced debut album drops soon.

Though masterfully crafted on the whole, there are probably a few too many tracks on “Love Letter.” “Just Can’t Get Enough,” while smooth, is an uninspired attempt at a Marvin Gaye slow jam, and “Taxi Cab” is the album’s only true misstep, a clumsy “Latin-influenced” account of—surprise—having sex in a cab with a stranger. It goes without saying that there are guitar solos and mojitos involved.

As he continues to demonstrate on guest appearances and remixes, even at 44 Kels can still strut like his every verse spontaneously induces breeding. But “Love Letter” shows us he’s equally potent when he keeps it PG-13. As he sings on “Love Is,” “Felt a whole lot of things, but nothing’s ever felt like this.” His fans should feel the same.

—Staff writer Jessica R. Henderson can be reached at jhenders@fas.harvard.edu.