To Jump the Shark is a term usually applied to long running TV series that includes an event after which the show is deemed ‘never as good again’^[1]. In this instance, I’d like to apply it to the point at which R Kelly became insane; the defining moment occurs approximately 166 seconds into his ever-expanding Hip-Hopera Trapped in the Closet. In an inverse jumping of the shark (burrowing the shark?), the delivery of a single phrase transformed this simple, cringe-worthy balladeer into a walking sun of entertainment.

But let’s look at the context first, US R&B has long had an obsession with minutiae trifling matters, and an insatiable thirst for mundane details;

T Pain: “she made us drinks, to drink, we drunk ‘em, got drunk”

Usher: “she’s telling you might change [her clothes], but you tell her not to”

R Kelly with Usher:

[Usher] Said she got me on a ring tone
[R. Kelly] Are you talking about the pink phone?
[Usher] Uh uh the blue one
[R. Kelly] Man she told me that was turned off.

Yes, conversational, colloquial, mundane, and the all important descriptor – audacious. Why would we want to know these things? Why are they telling us? How could anybody say these things in this way? With such crooning, ‘emotion’, and lord knows what else? Ornamentation?

Aside from the usual themes; love, sex and money, there is frequently an unusually heavy weighting on gadgetry (particularly phones, pagers, texts, emails), usage of the newest slang terms, and this insistent magnification of detail. It is one of the things I truly love about R&B, and in particular, R Kelly; the audacity. Couple a ludicrous detail or three with a hastily delivered melody and fresh beat, and you are transported into a place of such surreal confusion that wonderful flickers of magic appear. Just look at the rest of R Kelly’s catalogue for perfect exemplars;

Sex in the Kitchen

“Cutting up tomatoes, fruits and vegetables and potatoes
Girl, you look so sexy while you’re doing the damn thang”

Best Friend

“Dis toilet paper be cutting my ass, I need some roles of tissue, Charmin.”

Real Talk

“Bitch I wish you would burn my mother-fucking clothes, with your trifling ass, Milton, you bogus girl, Milton.”

The unique thing about Trapped in the Closet is that it takes these elements and adds a ridiculously overblown sense of drama, a nonsensical half-baked plot, and then repeats itself TWENTY TWO TIMES.

So back to that moment R Kelly ‘burrowed the shark ’, where he became truly great, in chapter one of TITC:

“You’re not going to believe it but things get deeper as the story goes on
Next thing you know a call comes through on my cell phone
I tried my best to quickly put it on vibrate
But from the way he acted I could tell it was too late”

Up until this moment we are unsure of Kelly’s exact angle of approach. The song has begun like any number of his releases; a slow soulful R&B jam, a story about adultery with nothing particularly out of the ordinary (aside from a little grammatical confusion – “you” are referred to in the first verse, never to be mentioned again in the entire opera). That is until the phrase “I tried my best to quickly put it on vibrate”, which he delivers with such conviction you can’t help but feel your eyebrow lift quizzically and a bemused smile form. You tried to do what?

But he is already moving on: “He hopped up and said ‘there’s a mystery going on and I’m going to solve it’”. The beat steps up, there is a steady crescendo as Kelly becomes more frantic, strings swell, a Timpani strikes up, Kells screams and the episode ends with a cadence phrase; the absolute peak line delivered breathlessly each time. This is usually a cliffhanger, an expose that sets up the next episode, the last word of which echoes away, repeating.

Then add to this the fact that he plays all the parts. That’s right, he sings every part in the opera, without stopping for breath or changing his voice (with only a couple of notable exceptions). The characters mount up, interlinked and all sleeping with each other, all with Kelly’s voice, and all saying the most ridiculous things.  It is intentionally confusing;

“She said you know my girl Roxanne?
I said who the hell is Roxanne?
Then she says roxanne’s a friend of mine
who knows this guy name Chuck,
Chuck’s cool with this guy named Rufus..
and I’m sitting there like ‘What the fuck‘?
Then she says Rufus wife Cathy,
we both went to high school,
she introduced me to the policeman that stopped you (stopped you…stopped you…)”

Bear in mind this is one part of one episode. Over the course of TITC, Kelly becomes (to name but a few), a pimp, a pastor, a mafia gang-leader, several women, an elderly couple, a gay couple, a lesbian couple, a policeman, a police siren, himself^[2] and, yes, a midget. He is simultaneously the narrator, a character, and ‘himself’, with only costume changes to indicate the difference (which would get very confusing on video if it weren’t for the fact all the parts are played by different actors, only with R Kelly’s voice).

Now this would all only amount to a fairly good track if it weren’t for another key element: every episode in the opera has an identical backing track, while the vocal is never quite the same. Kells gets 22 opportunities to riff, to improvise these unbelievably stupid lyrics over the same track with astonishing results. His genuine talents quickly reveal themselves; he never repeats, he always surprises, he has a thousand melodies and tiny hooks, each one memorable, each one worthy.  His voice is amazingly flexible, his enthusiasm never wanes.

The truly joyful moments of the work are those times where he plays with the formula. You play somebody a song 17 times and then change the chord inversion in the bass once, in one phrase and watch them explode. I certainly did. In one of the later episodes, Kells simply grunts and whispers an argument between two characters, with one shushing the other before they can retort (much like Dr Evil and his son’s argument in Austin Powers). That’s the fucking song! You are so far gone by episode 15 and 16 that tiny changes send shivers down your spine, new ways of ending the episode, the cadence you are waiting for, can be electrifying. You know what to expect, yet you always get something more preposterous. It’s only Kelly’s increasingly knowing looks that threaten to bring this monster down to earth.

Which brings us to the final point; the difference between chapters 1-5, and 6-22. Chapters 1-5 were included on the tail-end of the 2005 album TP.3 Reloaded (yes, I know..), and here, perhaps, is where it should have ended. We can’t know for certain, but I suspect the writing of TITC happened something like this: Kells wrote a backing track, a song like any other, and improvised vocals over it. The result was good, but he had other ideas so he did another take, which was also good. The penny dropped; he decided to write 5 of these episodes and link them together as a grand album finale. Chapters 1 to 5 are therefore complete. The story doesn’t end on a cliffhanger and the plot is resolved. This appears to be the original intention. The album was then released and the feedback concerning the linked episodes followed, which was surely a mixture of bemusement, hilarity and awe. Then our Kells realised people were laughing, he became wise to it, and played up to it. In chapters 1 to 5 Kells doesn’t know how ridiculous he is, and this is what makes them amazing. 1 to 5 are pure, real, self-obsessed, off-the-wall chapters, with no feedback from the public to indicate how they would be perceived in the real world. An insight into his bizarre psyche, and a fascinating example of a true improviser, ingenious and innovative, stylish and surreal.

Chapter 6 is a turning point in proceedings; Kelly is knowing, winking, a clown (he even mimes his own echo at one point). A midget is introduced, a spatula serves as an episode punchline, and Jesus VW Christ, the way he sings ‘Rosie the nosey neighbour’ is simply absurd. Unfortunately he cottoned on to his own ludicrous self and thus the amusement we can enjoy from 6 onwards is lessened (despite remaining incredibly high), because we are forced to laugh with him.

And which is my favourite crescendo from the 22? Chapter 4 of course! Unholy in it’s mundanity, perfect in it’s delivery, audacious, absurd, and brilliant; a concentrated portion of a madman’s 2 hour conversation with himself:

“Then I said baby, we must slow down
Before I bust a vessel in my brain
And she said please no don’t stop
And I said I caught a cramp
And she said please keep on goin’
I said my leg is about to crack
Then she cries out
Oh my goodness, I’m about to climax
And I said cool
Climax
Just let go of my leg
She says you’re the perfect lover
I said I can’t go no futher
Then I flip back the cover
Oh my God, a rubber…(rubber…rubber….rubber…)”

JH

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^[1] Happy Days’ Fonz literally waterski jumping over a shark was the point at which Happy Days fell from grace, ‘never to return’.

^[2] One episode of the video features THREE ‘versions’ of R Kelly, simultaneously onscreen.