First of all, his name is not Bruno Mars, it’s Pete — Pete Gene Hernandez. That name is plenty good. There haven’t been too many famous musicians named Pete, or Gene for that matter.
Then again, when you are a product of music business consumerism, having any sense of realism or soul in your music or image is essentially a null concept — you don’t need to be a musician so much as a money-making presentation.
Doo-Wops & Hooligans, Mars’ debut album, is an assortment of uncomfortably cheeky love and chillin’ out songs that portray Mars as a major label puppet as opposed to an artist.
Prior to his own release, Mars posed alongside recent pop-hip-hop star B.o.B and co-wrote songs for stand-out talentless hacks such as Flo Rida, even sinking so low as to take part in the disturbingly popular slut-pop of Ke$ha.
At first glance, Mars’ solo debut finds him in search of his own type of sound outside of his numerous guest appearances. On closer inspection, however, the album is really just a road map to Hawaiian native Mars for his journey to be the next Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, whose “Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World” medley is ubiquitous on so-called chill music playlists.
In his attempts to cop this sound, some songs feature major chord-affected acoustic guitar chops along with relaxed hand-drums and shakers while Mars sings his forgettable melodies. “The Lazy Song” is a perfect example, as literally no effort was put into this contrived soundtrack to a lazy day.
Mars spends another large portion of the album playing through faster-paced yet entirely tepid 1950s R&B-style rock ‘n’ roll. Songs such as “Runaway Baby” are meant to create a fun dance mood but instead leave listeners waiting for the thing to end. Again, the title says it all — stay away from this song.
Some songs on the record aren’t completely devoid of interest, but it’s the whole package that makes the album feel like just one more useless pop record for the bargain bins.
“The Other Side” featuring B.o.B and Cee Lo Green (of Goodie Mob, Gnarls Barkley and “F— You” fame) is ironically the best track on the album, seeing as how Mars is no longer the guest musician. A peppy little number that hits all the funk and rock elements just right while infusing rap and soul perfectly, it’s a great closing track to the album.
Earlier on the album, “Our First Time” is a spot-on deep reggae jam, at least instrumentally. Mars’ vocals wouldn’t be most people’s first choice for reggae, but it still works, this time because of the uniform pop confines of the album.
“Liquor Store Blues,” featuring Damian Marley, is yet another attempt at Americanized reggae-pop that doesn’t pay off as well, leading listeners to believe many of these songs were recorded to capitalize on trends rather than emotions.
On the rest of the album, Mars continues his half-hearted attempts at standard pop, coming up short almost as a rule.
With “Talking to the Moon,” Mars flashes his major-label Cub Scout badge for contrived balladry, letting the composition reside somewhere between the rolling eyes of disinterested listeners.
A soulful and sensual singer that can’t even use his real name really can’t inspire too much confidence in his listeners, so it makes sense that his debut album doesn’t do much more than solidify notions that the singer-songwriter will be all but forgotten in a few years.
Maybe then, when he is forced to play coffeehouse shows and cash checks from his salary-based job using his birth name, Mars will finally become a bit more real.
RATING: 1 star out of 5
diversions@umdbk.com
