Rick James

Anyone who grew up post-1980s might be excused for thinking that if Rick James didn't exist, the producers of Behind the Music would have had to invent him. James' personal saga, which includes liaisons with shapely starlets, long-term drug abuse, a con-viction for assault, and an onstage stroke during a "comeback" tour, is outlandish enough to make his musical career seem secondary -- and to some extent, it was.

James dressed like a rocker, sang like a soulman, and strutted like a mack daddy. Although there was nothing particularly "street" about his sound, he knew the buzzwords and inserted enough nudge-wink innuendo -- particularly drug references like "Mary Jane," from

Come Get It!; "Cop N Blow," from Bustin' Out of L Seven; and "South American Sneeze," from In 'n' Out -- to convince most of the kids back in the burbs.

James' best albums, Street Songs and Throwin' Down, owe more to production value than to any sort of originality, though in fairness, Street Songs' "Super Freak" (later co-opted by MC Hammer for the pop-rap smash "U Can't Touch This") and "Give It to Me Baby" had terrific hooks. Elsewhere, he relies on everything from secondhand Bootsy Collins (Fire It Up) to third-rate Larry Graham (In 'n' Out), with varying degrees of success.

James essentially ran out of ideas by 1982, and though Cold Blooded is a passable attempt at synthesizing the funk & roll chemistry of Street Songs, his subsequent albums for Gordy are a waste. Wonderful, his 1988 attempt at regaining cred, is no better, though Roxanne ShantŽ's cameo on "Loosey's Rap" is worth hearing. Urban Rhapsody, which followed his release from prison, is a cannily conservative attempt to recapture the R&B portion of his audience, but it lacks the fire of his early hits. Of the various anthologies, most boast copious hits, but only Anthology gives a real sense of the sweep and breadth of his career. James died in 2004, at the age of 56. (J.D. CONSIDINE)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide