Earlier this week, Robin Thicke released his seventh LP, Paula, just shy of a year after his last album, Blurred Lines. It’s been an eventful year for Thicke: “Blurred Lines” finally broke him with the mainstream American audience he had been courting relentlessly for a decade, his image has grown more salacious (helped out by his breakout single’s nudity-filled video and his on-stage freaking of Miley Cyrus at last year’s VMAs), and his wife of nearly nine years, Paula Patton, left him, apparently for reasons stemming from these developments.
As its title suggests, Paula is an album-length examination of their estrangement, as well as a pitch to convince Patton to reconcile. It’s the kind of flop-sweaty grand gesture that men have long been making when their partners finally get fed up with their nonsense, on an epic scale. A forgiving critic might call it “deeply personal,” but so far it’s mostly been called creepy and invasive, not to mention fundamentally flawed and misguided.
After the jump we’ll dig through this mess and figure out what it’s made from. READ FULL STORY