closet space

Normally I don't post after I've wished everyone a nice weekend, but I had to give props to Big J in NYC for her birthday gift via Amazon.com: R. Kelly's Trapped In The Closet Chapters 1-12.

Sex scandal aside (and let's admit it, Dave Chappelle's merciless lampooning of Kelly on his show to the tune of "Piss On You" is punishment enough), I've never been a fan of R. Kelly. His music always struck me as the kind of R&B that hardcore hip-hoppers used to be against, because it was nothing more than "Rap & Bullshit". Other than introducing the late Aaliyah to the world, I've never given much of R. Kelly's output any thought.

The sex scandal did nothing for my appreciation of him, other than amaze me that (1) the charges didn't stick, and (2) his fans didn't care. However, shortly afterward I made it a point to keep the channel on any Kelly music videos that popped up in my normal TV browsing mode. Whereas in the past I would simply change the channel, now I found myself actively watching Kelly's every move, out of morbid curiosity.

Maybe a part of me wanted to know what the appeal was... I mean, it's easy to defend Michael Jackson based solely upon his work with The Jackson 5, but who could justify peeing on underage groupies?

(btw: If Jimmy Page had ever been accused of peeing on underage girls, would the scandal make the papers? Keep in mind, this man and his former band have been responsible for some of the most wretched groupie legends ever concocted, and people barely bat an eye)

Even Chappelle-- obviously a huge R. Kelly fan --had to have a laugh at his expense. But as Chappelle put it, "the music is scandal-proof".

Now, bearing all that in mind...

Nothing on God's green earth could have prepared me for Trapped In The Closet.

Nothing.

And I'm a Prince fan, who stayed loyal even when his name was a symbol and he was putting together half-baked concept suites as albums.

Simply put, Trapped In The Closet is incomprehensible. The storyline is a rambling, tangent-hopping shim-sham. It makes no sense at all.

None.

And yet, I can't stop laughing over it.

You really must see it for yourself to believe it.

I wrote a really long post about it, but the computer inexplicably crashed. Luckily, Blogger now has the "recover post" function, which helped me to get back at least half of what I originally wrote.

And it's just as well, because I still have to watch it a few hundred thousand times before I can start a post-modern deconstruction of it. I also want to screen it to as many people as possible, to gauge their reactions.

You'll either love it or hate it.


PS: Last night Eve and I spent a nice evening at her place, cleaning up and watching DVDs. It was nice. Tonight she is going out with her girlfriends, and I think it's grand. She needs to do more of that. Yes, I'd be jealous if she met some guy at a club and got down with him, but let's worry about something that when or if it happens.

One day at a time.