For gospel entertainer Kirk Franklin, music-making isn’t just something he does to keep busy or to fulfill contractual obligations. For him, releasing a new album is actually an event, an extravagant gala where more is always more. There’s never any scruples as to how much to spend, how many guests to invite, or whether or not there’ll be a dress code to enforce. The more the merrier, and that’s all that matters.
Franklin threw his last shindig in 2002 with The Rebirth of Kirk Franklin, but that was partly a live album, which meant the self-proclaimed Dallas-bred “church boy” had to keep it contained, beautiful and, well, churchy. His last real party, however, happened nearly eight years ago with the revolutionary Nu Nation Project, the first gospel album to team Bono, Mary J. Blige and Fred Hammond on the same record.
With Hero—his most recent celebration on his newly created Fo Yo Soul label—Franklin once again pulls out all the stops. Like his 1998 Project, studio albums afford him the chance to open up the dance floor without reservations, and the ’80s disco-pop vibe of opener “Looking for You” is the perfect kick-off to the festivities.
But that’s only the appetizer. After that, the majority of Hero is lavish, sumptuous and dramatic beyond compare, and Franklin is comfortable tripling up as writer, producer and choirmaster, leaving no detail unattended. An idiosyncratic master of ceremonies, you can’t fault him for bringing down the beats-per-minutes drastically in subsequent numbers, especially in the orchestrated title track—with its frenetic choir, orchestrated flourishes and a knockout vocal tag from gospel great Dorinda Clark-Cole.
The near-theatrical spoken-word “Let It Go,” featuring none other than tobyMac and P.O.D.’s Sonny Sandoval, is a gripping biographical account, one that uncannily utilizes elements of Tears for Fears ’80s hit “Shout” to drive its point across.
During its midsection, Hero pays homage to Franklin’s gospel heritage with energy, aplomb and delicacy, depending on who’s doing the singing. “Could’ve Been Me” (feat. Tye Tribbett and J Moss) is an explosive romp that ranks with Franklin’s best, while the tender, organ-caressed “Brokenhearted” (with Marvin L. Winans) takes us right back to church and the altar.
Despite all these highs, the guest of honor doesn’t arrive until the last third of the album, when Franklin passes the microphone to soul music legend Stevie Wonder during the one-of-a-kind “Why,” a horn-suffused, ’70s-styled anthem overflowing with social conscience.
By the time the cooler-than-cool “Keep Your Head” and the bubbly “Sunshine” bring the disc to a close—each with their inventively placed ’70s and ’80s samples—you realize Kirk Franklin has once again hosted a doozey of a block party, one so dense, far-reaching, and heroic, it might take him over half a decade to replicate it.