So R. Kelly dropped his tenth album Untitled in December, but I still am unable to stop listening to it. People call me misogynistic, insensitive (or more commonly, jerkface) but I cannot dislike R. Kelly. Whether he is admitting to be functionally illiterate in October, composing his 22-part opus Trapped in the Closet, or simply fending off countless pedophilia and child pornography charges, everything he does just makes me love him more. This album changes none of that. In Untitled, R. shows us why he is still the Baby-Maker-In-Chief – Usher, Chris Brown, and T-Pain be damned. Like a good Scotch, his pipes get smoother and smoother with age, but he surrounds himself with young bucks like The-Dream and Keri Hilson to keep him flying (or at least believing he can). But don't be mistaken – Kells can still kick a slow jam harkening back to the days of Sweat, Vandross, and Pendergrass, the kind of joint that can melt the coldest of hearts and moisten the driest of panties. "Pregnant" is that kind of song. It features a changed player, who does just hit and quit a girl, but he wants to get her pregnant. And hopefully raise the child. At least I think he'll raise the child.
For: cherries unpopped, condoms unopened, and hearts still willing to believe in love.
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