With such an unrelenting theme, *TP3 Reloaded's 75 minutes might test the patience of those not simultaneously engaging in the activities described- and even those who are will likely find a few weak spots. Of course, Kelly's not quite so crass (he even self-beeps the f-word in the fifth "chapter" of "Trapped in the Closet"), but the junior-high sex synonyms don't dilute the XXX they merely keep it just barely radio-friendly. Comparing fucking to remote control use, arson, and the chronic. Fucking in the kitchen, fucking on the third date, fucking in R. Kelly's last outing was a departure, a two-disc concept album dealing with largely PG-rated topics like Jesus and steppin', Reloaded finds him back lecturing on his favorite topic: fucking. Production work is minimal, guest stars pay deference to their album host, and the entire album puts Kelly, his malleable voice, and his considerable persona center stage.
Kelly cruises through genres like he's giving a guided tour, hitting crunk, dancehall, hip-hop, reggaeton, and naturally, a handful of bedroom ballads along the way. TP3 Reloaded is one of those albums where every song sounds like a radio single, and since I live in Chicago, I'll likely be able to cross each one off the list by the end of the summer.
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