Robert Kelly is a shape-shifter. There's Kelly the innocuous gospel choirboy, Kelly the pop-rap party-anthem king, Kelly the hyper-masculine male whose lyrics only depict women in the bedroom, Kelly the steppin' MC, Kelly the perv—the man exhibits enough alter egos to warrant a psychoanalytical dissertation. Given a prolificacy matched only by Bob Pollard (though most of Kelly's work remains unreleased), it seems fitting that, months before his official album, a mix tape would surface chronicling what Kelly had to... More >>>