A passable effort, yet only fleeting moments of blistering emotion. 

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Perhaps one of the most hotly anticipated soul/R&B releases in recent years, Toni Braxton has unveiled her eighth solo album. Released last week, Sex & Cigarettes marks Braxton’s first solo studio release in eight years. Despite having announced her engagement to rapper and producer Birdman last month, the album is entirely consistent with Braxton’s grief-stricken, melancholic, and wistful oeuvre. Romantic woes run throughout Sex & Cigarettes and Braxton is at her finest when extracting as much pain and heartbreak as possible. To be frank, there is nothing out of the ordinary on Sex & Cigarettes. Yet there are some choice cuts where melodic hooks, angsty lyrics, and smoky vocals coalesce nicely.

The album begins with the acoustic, slightly countrified ‘Deadwood’. The melody sways gently and there is a quiet defiance to the lyrics as Braxton asserts, ‘you got me down but I ain’t out’. Chosen as the first single from Sex & Cigarettes, ‘Deadwood’ begins the album with a level of optimism which soon dissipates.

Up next is the title track – the album’s highlight which would sit comfortably on any playlist of 21^st century R&B heartbreak ballads. It’s very much in the ‘If I Were A Boy’ vein of anguished balladry. Yet Braxton uses her husky contralto, with growl-flecked notes and pained phrasing, to breathe life into the song. When she delivers the chorus –  ‘You come straight to our bed / Smelling like sex and cigarettes’ – she conveys her disgust, and disappointment, that her duplicitous lover does not even make the effort to hide his infidelity.

Sadly, the album peaks after the first two tracks. The remaining material drifts into somewhat breezy, generic, yet still serviceable R&B. It is often Braxton’s fiery delivery and bite which lifts the tracks. For example: ‘Tell me who you think you are / I’m a motherfuckin’ star’, she spits on ‘FOH’. ‘Long As I Live’ has a sleek electronic arrangement but languishes on the basis of its overly familiar lyrics and unremarkable melody. There is the essence of a strong R&B power ballad in ‘Sorry’ but it is let down by pedestrian production choices. ‘Coping’ and ‘Missin” drift into club muzak, while ‘My Heart’ (a collaboration with Colbie Caillat) is syrupy and laboured.

If Braxton insists on pursuing her Queen of Heartbreak reputation, she needs more sting, specificity, and spectacle.

(Image copyright: Def Jam Recordings)