The throwback nature stirs the senses back to another era, yet the coffee is still stale. The beat is an audible soap opera and it inspires a laundry list of reason’s why the two should try and work things out. They’re jumping back in, but pulling a hammy in the process: ĭesperate and at death’s door, the protagonists drop to their knees begging, pleading for reconciliation. They’re looking to be the peanut butter to their jelly, the milk to their shake and it is about as bland as the early bird special at Denny’s. The atmosphere is laced with cigar smoke and greasy velvet, a drunken haze that has the guys spitting sloppy game. It takes a moment to realize that it’s not an SNL parody of old school r&b.
Too bad for them the lady is immune to their cries: With only one person in the relationship giving all the effort, they’re beginning to question everything. The beat creates an agitated air that puts everyone in a sour mood. All the hard work they’ve put in seems to be falling by the wayside and they’ve had enough. The gauntlet has been thrown and the boys are demanding answers. The stream of consciousness flow reveals several oddities, and the one thing to take away is that when courting a woman the last thing you want to do is compare your macking skills to the Three Stooges: It’s a force of the hand that sends the fellas into rapid fire mode. The beat is a careless Pharell knockoff, with the scatterbrain percussion hitting the eardrum like a rusty ice pick. In truth they are not being heroes, but vultures circling by waiting for their chance: It’s your classic damsel in distress story that has been played out for centuries, and with little in the way of inspiration it unravels in undramatic fashion. The beat is a fusion of generic hip-hop and off-brand soul, an amalgam of second rate ideas. The grandstanding is to be expected, but what’s disappointing is the complete lack of soul: Įarly-2000s r&b repurposed for modern day senses. It’s easy to imagine Bel Biv DeVoe gallivanting around flossing hard while at the same time being careful not to scuff up the rented cars. Diddy written all over this desperate grab, and it’s astonishing that even after all these years his sound is still as wretched today as it was in the ’90s. It’s a needless and forgettable album that looks to benefit off of renewed, but altogether fleeting interest. At their worst they sound like bad karaoke. At their best Bell Biv DeVoe get nostalgic. At times they sound pressed, unsure and dated, and as a result they resort back to familiar lyrics that in the end do nothing for their legacy. The trio of crooners once built an empire upon their universal lyrics and trailblazing style.įor Three Stripes they look to throw their hat back in the game by interpreting trends that are way out of their league. It comes at the heels of a lauded BET profile of New Edition, which in the end is far more entertaining than the album. Still, specific cuts by the likes of Bruno Mars and Kehlani provide more convincing proof of Bell Biv DeVoe and New Edition's continued relevance to contemporary R&B.After 16 long years Bell Biv DeVoe make a not-so-triumphant return with a new studio album Three Stripes. Those two songs are comparatively effortless, reminiscent yet modern, and adult. Lowest, if not as crass as "Dance Bitch," is "Hot Damn," a bid for club play that resembles Empire-era Timbaland with its wild and busy drums: "Girl, we gon' turn the club into a circus/Ooh, love it when you twerk that." Some latter-half bright spots - a sweet ballad in the form of the SWV collaboration "Finally," and a sparkling disco-funk pleader, "One More Try," with Boyz II Men - redeem the album. Although Ricky Bell and Ronnie DeVoe are among the co-writers on most of the songs, the majority of the lyrical content resembles adolescent posturing, as heard throughout the likes of "I'm Betta," "Find a Way," and "Run," the latter two of which contain some oddly timed references to Next's "Too Close" and the Notorious B.I.G.'s "Hypnotize." The most obvious attempt at trend chasing is "All Dat Dere," a slack slow jam that bares a whole lot of likeness to Bryson Tiller's self-termed trapsoul. Titled after the graphic trademark of a footwear manufacturer beloved by Bostonians, this return isn't poor enough to deserve a rating synonymous with a certain other athletic brand, but just over half of it is on that level. Much of this one, featuring productions from Erick Sermon, Kay Gee, Battlecat, and Carvin & Ivan, is characterized by the same issue.
The trio's previous album, BBD, was loaded with undesirable bids at keeping up with the new jacks (and produced no charting singles). Released the week BET broadcasted the three-part mini-series The New Edition Story, Three Stripes is the first album from New Edition spin-off Bell Biv DeVoe in over 15 years.