Bruno Mars In Ascension
Article from Ascension
Bruno Mars in Ascension
Chad Batka for The New York Times
Bruno Mars has many sides, all playing roles in his success
By JON CARAMANICA
Published: October 5, 2010
When history books address the pop seismology of the early 21st century, a chapter will have to be set aside for a discussion of the Sheraton Waikiki in the late 1980s. That’s where Bruno Mars, then just a few years old, performed as part of a tourist-trap family band, singing doo-wop, Elvis and more. He even made a cameo as a baby Elvis in the 1992 film “Honeymoon in Vegas,” appearing as a bouffant-haired tyke in a blue jumpsuit, with a fierce hip shake.
“I can’t believe that’s my past,” Mr. Mars said in an interview before his first solo New York performance, a sold-out show at the Bowery Ballroom in late August. “I wish I could tell you me and my rock band were traveling around, strung out. No, we were a family band. Straight Partridge Family.”
Still, there’s something to be said for learning a wide repertory at a young age, and also to feel no shame in people-pleasing. It’s made Mr. Mars, 24, one of the most versatile and accessible singers in pop, with a light, soul-influenced voice that’s an easy fit in a range of styles, a universal donor. There’s nowhere he doesn’t belong.
This year he became the go-to guy for hip-hop melody, shaping the sound of radio with a pair of hits on which he wrote, produced and sang. They were virtual gifts to run-of-the-mill, melodically inclined rappers: “Nothin’ on You,” which became a No. 1 Billboard pop hit for the Atlanta rapper B.o.B, and “Billionaire,” by the Gym Class Heroes frontman Travie McCoy, which went to the top five.
But his placelessness hasn’t always been an asset. Born Peter Gene Hernandez, Mr. Mars is primarily of Puerto Rican and Filipino descent, which proved to be an obstacle in his industry dealings. “I was always like, girls like me in school, how come these labels don’t like me?” he said.
An early record deal with Motown went nowhere. Race was always a concern. “Sadly, maybe that’s the way you’ve got to look at it,” he said. “I guess if I’m a product, either you’re chocolate, you’re vanilla or you’re butterscotch. You can’t be all three.” He named his debut EP, released this year, “It’s Better if You Don’t Understand” — a taunt.
“Don’t look at me — listen to my damn music,” he said. “I’m not a mutant.”
And yet Mr. Mars is a true rarity. His debut album, “Doo-Wops & Hooligans” (Elektra), which was released on Tuesday, is an effortless, fantastically polyglot record that shows him to be a careful study across a range of pop songcraft. “Grenade” is a hybrid of ethereal 1980s pop with modern-day Kanye Westesque drums. On the jumpy, salacious “Runaway Baby,” he channels Little Richard. “The Lazy Song” and “Liquor Store Blues” borrow heavily from roots reggae, and on “Our First Time” Mr. Mars approximates the slinkiness of Sade.
The album was produced by the Smeezingtons, which is Mr. Mars’s partnership with Philip Lawrence and Ari Levine. Together they’ve got a firm grip on the full spectrum of black pop, and white pop as well. Mr. Mars channels the powder-puff vocals of Jason Mraz on “Count on Me” as well as on “Marry You,” which borrows liberally from Coldplay in its spacious drums and forceful velocity.
He also tackles U2 on the single “Just the Way You Are,” a No. 1 Billboard hit, though it’s less interesting than Mr. Mars is, despite some neat turns of phrase: “You know I’d never ask you to change/ If perfect’s what you’re searching for, then just stay the same.”
Mr. Mars was raised on his father’s doo-wop collection — “simple four-chord songs that got straight to the point” — and the futurist Neptunes and Timbaland hip-hop productions that were radio staples of his youth. It’s a fortunate combination, and his processing of those influences places him at the intersection of several recent movements, particularly the softening of hip-hop and the casual hip-hopification of pop.
“We produce records as if we’re a band,” he said of his work in the Smeezingtons, which includes the beautiful, unprintably titled kiss-off by Cee-Lo that became a viral hit in August. “I don’t know what’s going to come out. I’m excited that I don’t.”
“Nothin’ on You” and “Billionaire” are also Smeezingtons productions — the threesome were also partly responsible for the numbing Flo Rida hit “Right Round” from last year — and on both songs, Mr. Mars sang the hook, typically a kiss of death for an aspiring solo star.
He now has before him the daunting task of getting out from a shadow of his own making. (Though the spotlight isn’t always friendly: he was arrested last month in Las Vegas on suspicion of cocaine possession.) For the moment, at least, he’s the most important male singer working in hip-hop, a short but proud lineage that includes Nate Dogg, Pharrell Williams, Akon and, more or less, T-Pain. Rap-R&B collaborations have been plentiful for almost two decades, but typically it’s a female singer called in to add sultriness to an aggressive song. Mr. Mars is part of a little-discussed parallel history, one whose shape he’s changing. These collaborations are only one part of Mr. Mars’s catalog, but they matter.
His fluency with hip-hop is an implicit part of his songwriting, even on songs that don’t feature rappers. He also has a gift for songs with global reach. Matisyahu’s “One Day,” a Smeezingtons production, was used by NBC in its coverage of the 2010 Winter Olympics, and Mr. Mars produced and wrote on “Wavin’ Flag” by K’naan, a version of which was used as Coca-Cola’s promotional anthem for the 2010 World Cup. They’re songs fit for tourists.
And Mr. Mars knows how to grab attention quickly. A bit of the Sheraton Waikiki was peeking through during the Bowery Ballroom show. Mr. Mars and his band wore coordinated blue blazers and skinny ties. His tuft of hair was trimmed to a neat fade on the sides. There was dancing involved. He was a natural showman, as if he’d been doing it for decades.
“I can’t believe that’s my past,” Mr. Mars said in an interview before his first solo New York performance, a sold-out show at the Bowery Ballroom in late August. “I wish I could tell you me and my rock band were traveling around, strung out. No, we were a family band. Straight Partridge Family.”
Still, there’s something to be said for learning a wide repertory at a young age, and also to feel no shame in people-pleasing. It’s made Mr. Mars, 24, one of the most versatile and accessible singers in pop, with a light, soul-influenced voice that’s an easy fit in a range of styles, a universal donor. There’s nowhere he doesn’t belong.
This year he became the go-to guy for hip-hop melody, shaping the sound of radio with a pair of hits on which he wrote, produced and sang. They were virtual gifts to run-of-the-mill, melodically inclined rappers: “Nothin’ on You,” which became a No. 1 Billboard pop hit for the Atlanta rapper B.o.B, and “Billionaire,” by the Gym Class Heroes frontman Travie McCoy, which went to the top five.
But his placelessness hasn’t always been an asset. Born Peter Gene Hernandez, Mr. Mars is primarily of Puerto Rican and Filipino descent, which proved to be an obstacle in his industry dealings. “I was always like, girls like me in school, how come these labels don’t like me?” he said.
An early record deal with Motown went nowhere. Race was always a concern. “Sadly, maybe that’s the way you’ve got to look at it,” he said. “I guess if I’m a product, either you’re chocolate, you’re vanilla or you’re butterscotch. You can’t be all three.” He named his debut EP, released this year, “It’s Better if You Don’t Understand” — a taunt.
“Don’t look at me — listen to my damn music,” he said. “I’m not a mutant.”
And yet Mr. Mars is a true rarity. His debut album, “Doo-Wops & Hooligans” (Elektra), which was released on Tuesday, is an effortless, fantastically polyglot record that shows him to be a careful study across a range of pop songcraft. “Grenade” is a hybrid of ethereal 1980s pop with modern-day Kanye Westesque drums. On the jumpy, salacious “Runaway Baby,” he channels Little Richard. “The Lazy Song” and “Liquor Store Blues” borrow heavily from roots reggae, and on “Our First Time” Mr. Mars approximates the slinkiness of Sade.
The album was produced by the Smeezingtons, which is Mr. Mars’s partnership with Philip Lawrence and Ari Levine. Together they’ve got a firm grip on the full spectrum of black pop, and white pop as well. Mr. Mars channels the powder-puff vocals of Jason Mraz on “Count on Me” as well as on “Marry You,” which borrows liberally from Coldplay in its spacious drums and forceful velocity.
He also tackles U2 on the single “Just the Way You Are,” a No. 1 Billboard hit, though it’s less interesting than Mr. Mars is, despite some neat turns of phrase: “You know I’d never ask you to change/ If perfect’s what you’re searching for, then just stay the same.”
Mr. Mars was raised on his father’s doo-wop collection — “simple four-chord songs that got straight to the point” — and the futurist Neptunes and Timbaland hip-hop productions that were radio staples of his youth. It’s a fortunate combination, and his processing of those influences places him at the intersection of several recent movements, particularly the softening of hip-hop and the casual hip-hopification of pop.
“We produce records as if we’re a band,” he said of his work in the Smeezingtons, which includes the beautiful, unprintably titled kiss-off by Cee-Lo that became a viral hit in August. “I don’t know what’s going to come out. I’m excited that I don’t.”
“Nothin’ on You” and “Billionaire” are also Smeezingtons productions — the threesome were also partly responsible for the numbing Flo Rida hit “Right Round” from last year — and on both songs, Mr. Mars sang the hook, typically a kiss of death for an aspiring solo star.
He now has before him the daunting task of getting out from a shadow of his own making. (Though the spotlight isn’t always friendly: he was arrested last month in Las Vegas on suspicion of cocaine possession.) For the moment, at least, he’s the most important male singer working in hip-hop, a short but proud lineage that includes Nate Dogg, Pharrell Williams, Akon and, more or less, T-Pain. Rap-R&B collaborations have been plentiful for almost two decades, but typically it’s a female singer called in to add sultriness to an aggressive song. Mr. Mars is part of a little-discussed parallel history, one whose shape he’s changing. These collaborations are only one part of Mr. Mars’s catalog, but they matter.
His fluency with hip-hop is an implicit part of his songwriting, even on songs that don’t feature rappers. He also has a gift for songs with global reach. Matisyahu’s “One Day,” a Smeezingtons production, was used by NBC in its coverage of the 2010 Winter Olympics, and Mr. Mars produced and wrote on “Wavin’ Flag” by K’naan, a version of which was used as Coca-Cola’s promotional anthem for the 2010 World Cup. They’re songs fit for tourists.
And Mr. Mars knows how to grab attention quickly. A bit of the Sheraton Waikiki was peeking through during the Bowery Ballroom show. Mr. Mars and his band wore coordinated blue blazers and skinny ties. His tuft of hair was trimmed to a neat fade on the sides. There was dancing involved. He was a natural showman, as if he’d been doing it for decades.
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