Mashonda's January Joy : All the Joy Has Been Taken Out of January!

The fact that Mashonda (Tifrere) has a record deal with a label ran by one of the most prestigious music moguls of all time is proof enough that nepotism is alive and kicking full-throttle in the music industry. The wife of Hip-Hop producer Swizz Beatz, Mashonda first served as a co-writer on some of her husband's records before getting put on a few hooks that her hubby laced for other artists (Jay-Z, Eve, Cassidy, and Shyne to name a few).

Then she apparently put the nookie down extra good on Swizz one night and subsequently scored a record deal with none other than J Records. No doubt utilizing her husband's connections, Mashonda then quickly enlisted a bevy of A-list producers and cameos and holed up in the studio to create her debut album, January Joy.

On the intro to her website, Mashonda is described as an R&B songstress with an angelic voice who brings a touch of both class and melody to hip-hop. And her album is supposedly another bridge in the gap between hardcore hip-hop and R&B, all while it puts Harlem Soul back on the map. What's interesting about the latter statement is that it's founded on truth.

The music on January Joy does help to bridge that gap. Boasting production from Swizz himself, along with Sean Garrett, Mike City, DJ Scratch, Alchemist, The Neptunes and Raphael Saadiq, the album itself is a perfect example of how to properly meld hip-hop and R&B, with a subtle edge of Harlem Soul intact. Though a solid 40% of the music relies heavily on dusty soul samples, all the producers involved do their damnedest to make sure their sounds subtly borrow from both genres and combine to form a sometimes smooth, sometimes rugged concoction. And if this album were 100% instrumental, it'd be an extremely solid 4-star affair. But there is one lone factor that almost negates the entirety of work provided by the music; Mashonda's "angelic" voice.

There's no need to mince words; Mashonda is not a good, nor decent and barely tolerable, vocalist. The woman can barely hold a tune without sounding short of breath and her lack of Pro-Tools usage makes January Joy one of the most laborious listens of the year. Thankfully, the album does have a few tolerable moments that allow you to get caught up in the hypnotic rhythm of the music and forget about the insipid vocals overlaying them.

Both of Mashonda's singles - Back of Da Club and Blackout! - are club bangers sure to intensify gyration on the dancefloor; the former drenched with a wicked Latin flavor and the latter, a tough, stutter-stepping jaunt that's not completely wrecked by Mashonda's animal shrieks on the hook. Pharrell & Chad easily create the album's smoothest moment with the clear-eyed tale of lovers-turned-friends-turned-lovers, It's Ok. Kanye's extended 32-bar cameo and vintage production save Hold Me from obscurity. Swizz liberally borrows the same drum loop Eric Benet did for "Georgy Porgy" and creates a moody tale of betrayal on Girlfriend. And with Leave The Block Alone, Mike City proves once and for all that he can make anyone sound talented, Jadakiss cameo or not.

Those 6 moments of acceptable listening material aside, the other 7 serve as a painful example of how severely low the music industry has lowered its standards. Saying they all suck like Superhead on a lollipop might be a bit too vague and general for some. So if you want a good idea of how truly awful this record gets, listen to Mashonda's tone-deaf ad-libs and pitchy notes on Lonely, cringe as you hear her laughably strain and try to inject some soul and passion into the soulless and vapid Touch Me, and then proceed to projectile vomit all over yourself as you hear her bastardize Tony! Toni! Tone!'s classic "Ask of You", Raphael Saadiq's production and vocal cameo barely saving the cover from the depths of musical hell. Then hang your head in shame as you walk away slowly for doubting me.

As I type this, Mashonda's album has been permanently shelved and is collecting dust in J Records' vault. And don't, for a second, believe its permanent delay isn't without good reason. January Joy suffers from the same syndrome that has infected so many ill-fated R&B albums; good concept meets pitiful (and often painful) execution.

From a musical standpoint, January Joy is a quite smart and entertaining album. Too bad its deliverer has about as much talent as Kevin Federline's pinky toenail. If someone with a minimal level of talent, Ashanti - prime example, were given this album, she'd have the record of her career. But left in Mashonda's hands, all the joy is sucked out of January and hopefully as a result, will be the quiet stain on Clive Davis' shelf marked: "What The HELL was He Thinking"?!