Barf Bag Not Included
R. Kelly likes to sing about various ways he wants to screw the latest woman to cross his line of sight, and the only reason anyone still talks about his attempt at a career is because he bangs teenagers on tape. TP.3 Reloaded is just another of Kellyâ€šÃ„Ã´s overindulgent exercises in explicit sexuality. He may have originally earned his fame that way, but Kelly has lost his knack, recently producing tracks that are comically bad.On â€šÃ„ÃºIn the Kitchenâ€šÃ„Ã¹ Kelly cries, over an annoying water drip sound effect, â€šÃ„ÃºGirl Iâ€šÃ„Ã´m ready to toss your salad!â€šÃ„Ã¹ Even if itâ€šÃ„Ã´s not a horribly non-clever attempt at a kitchen-based pun, no one really wants to hear that. Even worse are his attempts at reggae. On â€šÃ„ÃºReggae Bump Bumpâ€šÃ„Ã¹ he at least employs Elephant Man, who then effortlessly upstages Kelly.
R. Kelly provides musical backgrounds for sex in the same way that Thomas Kinkade provides housewives with artwork â€šÃ„Ã¬ by formula. Instead of taking real artistic risks Kelly continues with his same old shtick. He knows what perfunctory moves will still sell his albums and get tongues wagging, but thatâ€šÃ„Ã´s about all thatâ€šÃ„Ã´s left.
TP.3 Reloadedâ€šÃ„Ã´s piece de resistance is the travesty that is â€šÃ„ÃºTrapped In the Closet (Parts 1-5).â€šÃ„Ã¹ Kelly doesnâ€šÃ„Ã´t even front like heâ€šÃ„Ã´s written a song. He just tells this unbelievable, overwrought soap opera in a singsong voice. Adultery set to grand orchestral arrangements with echo effects isnâ€šÃ„Ã´t any more captivating than daytime television. The only reason to download any of this mess is the car wreck factor â€šÃ„Ã¬ itâ€šÃ„Ã´s so damn difficult to look away from wreckage this disturbing.