Yeah, you know what, this new Chris Brown album, it's, it's NOT GOOD.

BROWN is album number 12 from this Virginia-native R&B singer and hit maker, Chris Brown. At this point, what could I say about Chris Brown considering this album sucks and it's been years since I have formally covered this man's music? How I'll start is I remember when Chris Brown first started breaking into the mainstream around the mid-2000s with singles such as "Run It!", "Kiss Kiss," and "With You," doing really well commercially. I mean, not only were his songs doing well on industry radio stations that had decidedly urban programming, which were pretty essential for breaking new faces in rap and R&B around this time, but he also had a considerable amount of crossover appeal into the pop mainstream, too.

And while I think it's delusional to think that at any point in his career Chris had the singing and dancing talent of someone like Michael Jackson — a comparison his hardcore fans are all too happy to make on a regular basis — at the very least, I think Chris Brown had the chance to become the Usher of his generation. However, that potential was eventually squandered by hubris, as well as the very public fallout over the 2009 assault charge against Rihanna, his girlfriend at the time.

Which I bring up because Chris Brown has served as a key example of at least two things because of that controversy: first, what it can look like when the public decides to demand accountability from a celebrity who has committed a heinous act or crossed a line; or two, what it looks like to skate by with no real repercussions after years and years of further allegations, public outbursts, and moments where Chris has just put his foot in his mouth.

Which is unfortunate, because honestly, I think most people wouldn't bat an eye at Chris Brown's public presence if he seemingly got onto a better path in the past 15 years, had been relatively controversy-free. After all, Chris did continue to dish out some pretty big hits into the 2010s, which could have easily overcome any lingering skepticism him about his continued fame and success.

But the fact of the matter is, Chris's public image has only gotten worse over this course of time, despite still boasting tens of millions of monthly listeners across all streaming platforms, as well as plenty of big names who are still very much willing to work with him on this album or on other records where he's appeared, be it GloRilla, Bryson Tiller, Summer Walker, Metro Boomin, and many more.

But honestly, my own motivations for avoiding a lot of Chris's music over the past 10 years has a lot to do with maintaining my sanity. It's not just a moral principle thing, though it does happen to line up a bit in that way. Because I think the last genuinely approachable album Chris dropped was way back in 2015 with Royalty. Because since that release, nearly every solo effort Chris has put out, either the standard or deluxe edition, has been bloated to the point of absolute insanity.

Because – I'm sorry, the 11:11 Deluxe, Indigo Extended, Heartbreak on a Full Moon... there is just no possible way on this planet you are going to get me to listen to two hours to two and a half hours straight of Chris Brown music. Something that I am positively, absolutely sure even his most hardcore fans are not fucking doing. Most of this man's critics call his tracks hookah lounge music for a reason. His tunes work toward and appeal within a very specific mood and setting, which is not conducive at all for a focused, intentional 150-minute listening session.

Now, I get it. From Migos to Drake to Carti, no artist these days seems to be immune to the temptation to stream troll with your new record and just pack it out with as many songs as possible as a means of maxing out your streams. But this is just ridiculous. And even with BROWN here being a relatively trim 90 minutes, this record still has no business being 27 tracks long. Not just because there's nothing about the music on this album that makes this length of time enjoyable, but Chris Brown doesn't have the musical versatility and talent to keep an album this long interesting from front to back. Anyone listening to him with a critical ear knows that.

And look, I know coming on here and saying this album isn't good won't be a hot take. And in a way, you could say the negative reception of this album is kind of taking over the discourse around the record itself. I mean, even Pitchfork's review of this record officially dubbed it 'a piece of shit,' to which I say, 'What Chris Brown album in the past 10 years hasn't been a piece of shit?' The only thing that might make this particular album cycle a bit shittier is some of the weird AI promo rollout Chris dropped to support this record, like this vintage-type 'Chitlin' Circuit' performance poster that shows all the featured artists on this record looking like they're in, you know, kind of 1950s, early '60s wear, and it looks cheap and corny as hell, to say the least.

And, believe it or not, the music too on this record, the quality of it sounds like it was generated in a lab. Seriously, after 90 minutes, I don't know if Chris Brown has ever vocally sounded so overproduced and anonymous. You could have handed me this album with no labels on it whatsoever, and I dunno, it would have taken me a long time to guess it was him. Because again, due to all the autotune and processing, the person singing this record could be fucking anybody. It's robbed his voice of just that much personality. And again, the production, the instrumentals, are really not that much better. The mainstream 2000s R&B world that Chris comes from is already known for its clear formulaics and squeaky clean commercial presentation. All this record does is, like, amplifies that by a million, creating a vibe that is so non-specific, watered-down, and predictable that this is about as soulless as soul can possibly get.

Take the song "Fallin'," for example, which sounds like a dead ringer for that fuckin' AI version of 50 Cent's "Many Men" that's supposed to be, like, a soul track, the one that Joe Rogan got all emotional about because he's a moron. Meanwhile, the opening minute of "Leave Me Alone," the first track on the record, sounds like some sleek elevator funk.

But look, all of these are sonic and aesthetic complaints. Unfortunately, listening to Brown also means that you have to subject yourself to Chris's awful personality and sense of humor.

Like on the song "Hate Me," where he's essentially nailing himself to the cross for multiple minutes at a time, essentially being like, 'Oh, you can hate me all you want, if that's what you really need, I'll be here to just take and accept all the negativity like a good boy.' There's also "Honey Pack," which is a sex jam about, you know, gas station libido stimulants that'll make you feel like you have to take a fucking shower after hearing it.

There's also "It Depends," whose lyrics read like you're flirting with an overly horny chatbot. "Pussy good, I'ma lock it in / Beat that shit out the box again / Tryna to see where your conscious is / Can we keep this anonymous? / Oh, you want to be monogamous? / Oh, I might take the rubber off." The only thing harder to listen to than Chris's poor attempts at being slick and doing a little cliché gaslighting, like on the song "It's Not You, It's Me," are the many moments on this record that for some reason sound dated as hell.

The song "For the Moment," for example, sounds like an old Weeknd song being ripped off from 10 years ago. Meanwhile, "#BODYGOALS" not only has an annoying hook, but like, 'hashtag?' Nobody's prefacing phrases or words with hashtag anymore. This isn't 2012. Like, isn't part of Chris Brown's appeal, this sort of music's appeal, that it's supposed to be like on the on the cusp of lingo and what people are saying and, you know, catchy phrases and just the way discourse is going? This shit is so behind the curve I somehow feel younger than Chris Brown.

Meanwhile, "Fuck and Party" with Vybz Kartel is a really bland piece of post-Controlla dancehall, which is just a tired formula at this point. Like, if this is a sound and a style you really want to hear, there's any number of authentic, on-the-frontlines artists you can check out on streaming any day of the week. You don't need to subject yourself to Chris Brown doing a fake patois to hear it. Again, we're not living in 2015, 2016 anymore.

The only signs of this record being somewhat in touch come through via the features: the track "Call Your Name" featuring Sexyy Red and GloRilla, which really could have just been a Sexyy Red and Glo song, as well as "Red Rum" featuring NBA YoungBoy, whose feature makes no fucking sense on this song whatsoever. In fact, the beat has to change entirely to accommodate his horrible, annoying, nasally voice, which is just caterwauling over this instrumental in the most one-dimensional way, and doesn't complement the spacey, vibey, low-key energy the song kicks off with in any way.

As the record continues, of course, some aspects of it get more one-note, more pointless. Really nothing going on that would make you want to focus directly on it. This is also when more of the sex jams start coming out, which is fine because, the best thing this album can do is kind of sit down in the cuck chair in the background while you're doing something else more interesting.

But still, being real, as far as sex soundtracks are concerned, you can do way better than this. Christ. At least listen to a record whose production doesn't sound like it was generated by an algorithm, or is just decked out in writing that word for word is just so on the nose or patronizing. To the point where if Chris is being authentic, he is just a completely vapid person lacking any kind of original thought, or he's just saying what exactly he thinks his audience wants to hear.

Take the song "Theme Song" for example, which is like one of the most dumbed-down club cuts I've heard in a while. Basically saying, 'This is your theme song at the club if you're here to shake ass.' Which, like, that's everyone!

And the record just continues to drag on with more horrid production, horrid vocal performances, horrid lyrics, completely unsexy moments, like on "Skin to Skin," where at one point Chris says, "Our frequencies blend when we lay skin to skin / You wear my hands as a necklace / I eat your chocolate for breakfast." I'm sorry, is Chris choking someone out and eating their ass? Maybe I'm being uncharitable, but it's hard to read it any other way.

Yeah, I'm just struggling to find anything good to say about this record.

It's not good. It's terrible. It's not good.