CHRIS BROWN'S COMEBACK! GRAFFITI IS A GOOD ALBUM!

Chris Brown's new album promises to give us his spin on pop's most analyzed "he said, she said" dustup in years. His label helped intensify the comparison by releasing Brown's first CD since the beating-felt-round-the world just two weeks after the disk arrived from the woman he beat.
As you'll remember, Rihanna's album found her hitting back hard, spewing accusations and making vows never to be a victim again. Much of the disk seemed like a PR move to toughen her image in the wake of having, at first, slunk back to the brute. The result not only gravely distracted from the music, it seemed both shrill and strained.

As it turns out, the "he" in this equation has opted to take the opposite tack. On "Graffiti," Brown acts, for the most part, like nothing ever happened. While some may find that infuriating, the result actually winds up making a better case for Brown as a worthy musical figure than Rihanna's disk did. It puts the focus back where it belongs - on the singing and on the songs - a move greatly aided by the quality of both.

While Brown's CD may be the more enjoyable of the two works, it's a real question as to whether many will give it the fair hearing it deserves. Even those who mean to will find it hard to get its nasty backstory out of their minds, or to reconcile Brown's particular sound and image with the man who committed such an ugly act.

Ironically, Brown has long presented himself as young R&B's nice guy. He smiled in pics where others snarled, and he shied away from the genre's usual horndog excesses. For "Graffiti," Brown has tried to mildly toughen that image, if only to make a stab at growth. The single, "I Can Transform Ya," featuring Lil Wayne, pivots on a rough Swizz Beatz dance riff meant for the clubs. But it doesn't transform Brown. Even when he sass-talks about hotties he wants to take home, he sounds more like an excited kid than an experienced cad of the R. Kelly ilk.

It's not just Kelly's leers Brown avoids, it's his rote approach to music. The singer has long set his sights on pop more than R&B. This time he brings that ambition to fruition. In "Pass Out," he samples Steve Winwood's '80s hit "Valerie," while "I.Y.A." comes so close to Prince's brand of rock, you could park it right next to that star's "Little Red Corvette."

In both the material, and the singing, the artist Brown most recalls turns out to be neo-lounge singer John Legend. Brown's voice proves just as elastic and elegant.

Only toward the CD's close does Brown covertly refer to his travails. In "Lucky Me" he says he "wouldn't wish this on anyone else" (whatever "this" is), while in "Fallin' Down" he goes for the "I'm only human" defense. Meaning, he's whining about his fate, rather than apologizing for having caused it. In any case, the light tone to his voice prevents us from relating it too closely to any real-life events.

The lack of accountability on the CD may upset some, but just judging by the music, Brown has delivered the kind of joyful, engaging work that deserves to be praised by many more people than will feel comfortable doing so.