USA Today: The Buffet Review

R. Kelly feasts on love, again, with 'The Buffet'

"Good evening, ladies. Shall we start with hors d'oeuvres?" R. Kelly asks on The Poem, the spoken-word intro to his new album, The Buffet (three out of ****) out Dec. 11. A smorgasbord of screamingly obvious double entendres follows, interrupted at one point by sound effects that may make you giggle, or wince. And we haven't even gotten to the metaphorical binge that is the opening track, titled Poetic Sex.

We should expect no less from this R&B veteran, who as a songwriter and performer has made sexual healing his stock in trade, even if Kelly's biggest successes include G-rated hits such as I Believe I Can Fly and the late Michael Jackson's You Are Not Alone, and his personal history is marked with accusations of misdeeds. Happily, The Buffet functions as more than a showcase for his wordplay—or play of other kinds.

With its fluid vocals, ingratiating hooks and sinuous grooves, the album sees Kelly reaffirming his place as one of R&B's great romancers. Sometimes, he meets his match: "The thing I like about you is, baby, you are freaky, too," Jhené Aiko croons sweetly on the undulating Let's Make Some Noise.

Other notable guests include Lil Wayne and Jeremih, who both appear on the restless, crisply syncopated Switch Up, and Juicy J, featured on the witty, horns-laced Marching Band, on which Kelly sings, "I know the neighbors can feel that bass."

Those neighbors are referenced and disregarded again on the blithe, funky Wake Up Everybody (which isn't a cover Teddy Pendergrass' song with Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes, though Kelly likely wouldn't shy away from a comparison). The retro-soul vibe gets deeper on Get Out Of Here With Me, as Kelly veers from lust to lush romance.

Kelly's music can be less interesting when pledging love more earnestly, as he and Ariirayé both do on Wanna Be There. The spacious, eerily twinkling Let's Be Real Now starts at the other extreme, with Kelly and Tinashe's characters hurling accusations at each other.

But then, Kelly apologizes gorgeously on All My Fault, his nimble tenor shimmering over a tender but breezy arrangement, before throwing a Backyard Party soundtracked by swaggering guitars and frolicking strings.

"No one's got hatin' in their heart," Kelly sings on the latter track. And as he nears age 50, with thirteen albums in the bag and his career strong as ever, he's a man seemingly without a care in the world.