Whitney Houston’s I Look To You–hailed by her handlers as her post-crack-allegations, post-Bobby, post-reality-TV “comeback album”–hits the world this Tuesday, September 1. Because you’re terribly excited about hearing this masterpiece, SOTC’s here to inform you that it’s currently streaming at her official QVC-sponsored, angelically glowing web site.
Recommended for larfs: “Nothin’ But Love,” a faux-redemption gangsta-bitch empowerment anthem set against some uproariously overproduced trance-beat intervals. Hear Whit Ho’s voice sound like Marge Simpson’s sisters as she sing-shoots love-lasers at all the supporters/detractors who’ve been a part of her I’M-TOO-RICH-FOR-CRACK!!!! rollercoaster ride (“To anyone who tried to hate on me/Shout out, Shout out”;”For all the playas on the street/Shout out, Shout out”). Also enthusiastically endorsed, the excuses proffered in “Call You Tonight,” a tune in which Whitney very thoughtfully explains why she hasn’t called (“That’s the way it goes in life/You get busy when you just don’t wahhhhn-na”), then stinkbombs the world with the most flabbergasting lyrical love-song cop-out ever: “The best writer in town/Could not find words to say.” (Sure, if you live in Crackhead Town). But don’t worry, the fair lady repeatedly promises she will call if “ya stay by the phone”–Whit, honey, you definitely make enough money to buy him a cell. There’s also the Gil-Scott-Heron bass-funk opening of “Million Dollar Bill,” a Donna Summer rip-off to end all Donna Summer rip-offs. But then, I could go on forever.
In honor of Whitney Houston’s landmark achievement, last Friday night in Greenpoint at C.R.E.A.M. Projects (70 Greenpoint Ave., 7-11 pm), four curators opened Whitney’s Biennial, a weekend-long exhibition featuring the work of 37 mostly local artists, including Kara Walker, Davida Nemeroff, and Per Billigren. “Whitney is the proverbial every artist, the flesh-and-bone actor laboring under the shadows of giants,” the show’s official statement read. “The exhibition explores the dubious notion of the comeback.” In other words, the art world’s in shambles, young aspiring folks are in the symbolic Whitney crack-den dumps, and unlike Michael Jackson’s narrative, hopefully this tale ends well for everyone involved? In any event, there were free limo rides. Intrepid digi-cam shooter Shannon McGee braved the furious downpour and documented the landmark event. More photos here.