CD Review of A Christmas of Love by Keith Sweat
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Keith Sweat:
A Christmas of Love

Reviewed by Jeff Giles


irl, Keith Sweat knows you’ve been hurt before. The holidays have not always been good to you. Keith Sweat has seen the tear in your eye when commercials announcing the latest annual airing of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” come on the 72” plasma hi-def television in Keith Sweat’s high-rise apartment. This pains Keith Sweat, girl. Yes, it’s true -- when not polishing his platinum records or breaking you off nasty, doggy style, Keith Sweat feels your yuletide pain. And this is why we will celebrate a whole new kind of Christmas this year, girl.

A Christmas of Love.

Allow me to lay you down by the fire, baby. No, not there -- over here, on the bearskin rug. Yes, girl. Now, hold that pose while Keith Sweat changes into something more comfortable. It will only take a moment, and it will be so much easier to love you down while wearing a set of the finest silk pajamas and crocodile slippers. Keith Sweat will make it all worth your while, girl. Do you hear the sounds coming out of those $25,000 speakers? Yes, baby. That is the sound of Keith Sweat, telling you he wants to be your Santa Claus.

Do you understand the metaphor, girl? Yes, yes, yes. Keith Sweat would like to slide down your chimney. Are you ready to unwrap this present? Do not be alarmed. You will not need to inquire about a return policy. This gift is one of a kind, and all for you, baby.

Actually, now that Keith Sweat thinks about it, that has the makings of a good song for the next Christmas album. Please wait here for another moment, while Keith Sweat writes a few lines down. Yes, girl. Keep your back arched just like that.

Baby, Keith Sweat recorded these nine songs just for you -- a blend of new holiday tunes and Christmas classics, all performed with the same smooth vocals and New Jack beats that you have come to expect from Keith Sweat. Do you see that look on Keith Sweat’s face on the album cover, girl? Yes, you know what that look means. It is time to roll over, baby. Keith Sweat suggests you bite the pillow. The bylaws of this co-op prohibit loud screaming after 9 P.M.

Joy to the world, baby. Damn .

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