In a recent interview with Entertainment Weekly, Usher mused, “I was going out night to night, having a different woman in my bed every time I chose, and I began to wonder: Am I really being a playa or am I a whore?” With this bit of philosophizing, he gave voice to urban music’s emerging existential crisis. “There does come a time when you start thinking, ”˜Who’s gonna love me and take care of me when I’m down? Who’s gonna care about making sure that I’m okay? I need a companion. Damn.’ ” Interestingly, the former lady’s man turned in his pimp cup this past year, marrying and starting a family.

Usher’s latest outing, Here I Stand, chronicles this journey to maturity. Things kick off with the playboy anthem “Love in This Club”, which sees Young Jeezy inquiring if you’d like to get busy with a thug in the club, implying that sex can be so casual you need not even leave the building for it to take place. The disc progresses to a series of sensual love ballads exploring the highs and lows of grown-up relationships. With the project, Usher has articulated a shift that’s taking place across hip-hop and R & B.

Urban music has long been invested in a view of sexuality similar to that of a teenage boy: i.e., the goal is to get as much sex from as many different chicks as you can, with as little commitment as possible. Now, nobody would expect a bunch of high-school dudes to know anything about the art of seduction, let alone true partnership. But as rappers and R & B crooners start pushing 30, the whole hit-and-run shtick gets more than a little tired.

The best example of this played-out sentiment is G-Unit’s remake of the Marvin Gaye classic “Come Live With Me Angel”. Whereas Gaye
serenades the apple of his eye with, “I wanna be your lover,” 50 Cent and company dispense with any pretence of romance, flatly declaring, “I really wanna fuck you.” Super.

It would be one thing if this attitude was limited to wax, but it has real-life consequences for female fans and women who work in the music industry—who are regularly propositioned for random hotel sex.

So ingrained is this stance that anyone who questions it can expect a fight. A couple of summers ago, I got into an online debate with Phonte from North Carolina rap duo Little Brother, whom I had criticized for making references to the anatomy of Toronto rapper Eternia, thereby dismissing her as a sexual object. “The audience wants the ”˜conscious rapper’ or underground rap artist to be asexual,” Phonte subsequently complained in an interview with XXL Magazine. “We want some pussy! I hate to burst people’s bubbles, but to the female rap fans: yes, your favorite underground rapper wants to fuck you. They ask you to come to they room after the show, they don’t want to talk about the culture, they don’t wanna play you their new album, they wanna fuck.”

All of this is why Usher’s position is so groundbreaking. And he’s not alone, either. Across the board, urban artists are coming to the realization that there’s more to life than getting laid with strangers.

In 2005 Nas married Kelis, even tattooing her face on his arm, and utterly disregarding 50 Cent’s scathing sucker-for-love taunts. Jay-Z, too, traded groupie love for a wife this April. Appropriately enough, Hov turns up on “Best Thing”, near the end of Usher’s new disc. No doubt anticipating the backlash Usher invites by daring to speak about grown-man love instead of pubescent lust, Jay sighs, “I mean, Usher, is this what it come to, man? This how we gonna do it. I mean, even grass grows, baby, you know. Seeds become plants, boys become men. What we gonna do? Let’s lead the way.” Hallelujah.