Tony! Toni! Tone!

Though this R&B trio eventually succumbed to a fraternal feud, the career of brothers Dwayne and Raphael Wiggins and cousin Timothy Christian Riley also exemplified a much rarer pop phenomenon -- sustained artistic growth that led to a truly original sound.

At the beginning, Tony! Toni! Toné!'s most distinguishing characteristic was the wry black comedy that spiked their standard-issue New Jack Swing.

Their wit was in full display on Who?, the trio's 1988 debut. "Little Walter" is the fatal tale of a smug player and "Born Not to Know" a jab at his inverse, a dogged do-gooder who loses out on the good times bursting around him. These moments are so pointed they leave the disc's love ballads sounding flat. Almost lost between the two are also a few references to R&B classics that Tony! Toni! Toné! would later expand on.

Apart from "Oakland Stroke," which drops Sly Stone's name into its combo of New Jack Swing and hip-hop, The Revival mostly avoids history and humor for improved songwriting and production on dance tracks such as "Feels Good" and love ballads such as "Whatever You Want." Although the disc falters on its mushy second half, it still proves the group's lyrical cleverness is matched by its musical talent.

There's no such slippage on Sons of Soul, which kicks off with a five-song tour de force that bounces from Motown to New Jack Swing and back before breaking for a series of ballads as sexy as they are sweet, a first for Tony! Toni! Toné!. Suddenly Raphael Wiggins' high tenor glides as smoothly and confidently as his songwriting: He drops Sly Stone's name before channeling his druggy style with equal parts love and humor on "Tonyies! in the Wrong Key."

House of Music consolidates the triumph of Sons of Soul for a masterpiece of 1990s R&B, an album that is as steeped in soul tradition as anything by Max-well or D'Angelo, but that mixes the homage with humor and deft contemporary touches, thereby creating a new space all its own. The opener, "Thinking of You," is pure Al Green, complete with nonsensical asides. Raphael Wiggins, renamed Raphael Saadiq, then drops a ballad as sultry as Smokey himself, only to get up again on "Let's Get Down," a paean to clubbing whose lyrics offer another bewildering mix of love and mockery. And so it goes. Though the 70-minute disc doesn't deliver hooks from start to finish, the mood and groove never falter, standing with the best product ever put together by Gamble and Huff. On "Party Don't Cry," the Tonyies even nab the kind of existential profundity that so often escaped the Philadelphia producers' grasp.

And that was it. Of the obligatory greatest hits packages, Hits is preferable for its length and elegant design, even if the error-ridden lyric sheet seems to have been transcribed by someone's bored, fifth-grade nephew. (FRANKLIN SOULTS)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide