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Lord of the RingtonesHow Akon became a star.

By Jody RosenPosted Tuesday, April 10, 2007, at 7:31 AM ET

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But the essence of Akon's gangsta R&B isn't gangsterism at all. It's misogyny. If your idea of romance involves greased stripper poles and women waiting on all fours to receive a hard smack, Akon is the Don Juan for you. It's pointless to complain about hip-hop sexism at this late date—but it is dreary to find it seeping into R&B, once an oasis from rap's brutish sexual politics. The larger problem with Akon's "love songs" isn't moral but aesthetic: the brain-numbing banality of another ode to a big-booty stripper whose "pussy get wet" when a playa flashes his cheddar. The poetic imagination at work here is summed up by the title of Akon's biggest hit to date (in its unbowdlerized album version): "I Wanna Fuck You."

Even the stupidest lyrics can be redeemed by a great tune. But Akon's music is as dumbed-down as his words. Most songs have anemic little choruses strung together by stolid, almost nonexistent verses. This approach to songcraft can be traced to Akon's musical apprenticeship as a singer of "hooks," the melodic bits in rap song choruses—which, generally speaking, aren't really hooks at all. (In hip-hop, the catchy parts are the beat and the grain of the rapper's voice.) Tellingly, the highlights of Akon's songs are invariably the 16 or so bars he gives over to guest MCs.

As for Akon's hooks: They're little jingles, of four or so notes, generally in minor keys. In truth, they're not really proper choruses so much as advertisements for ringtones, which, as any music-industry analyst will tell you, is where the real money is these days. Between Akon and rapper Mims, the other breakout star of 2007, there's reason to suspect that we have arrived at a historical tipping point—the moment when the cell phone replaces the record as the central icon of popular music culture. There's no question that Akon's stuff sounds best braying from a Motorola Razr. The other day, I was walking in a Lower Manhattan park, when I heard a familiar melody blipping out of a nearby phone. It was the singsong refrain from Akon's "Smack That," and I had to admit, in this robotic version, it was sinisterly catchy: I felt it burning, burrowing into my brain, earworm style. Just then, a group of college-age guys walked by and burst into the song's chorus, singing the tender words that every girl longs to hear:

I feel you creepin', I can see you from my shadow
Wanna jump up in my Lamborghini Gallardo
Maybe go to my place and just kick it, like tae-bo
And possibly bend you over, look back and watch me
Smack that, all on the floor
Smack that, give me some more
Smack that, 'till you get sore
Smack that, oh oh