Not to be confused with All 4 One.

Here are a couple of thoughts about Boyz II Men:

1. Are they ashamed of their first single, “Motownphilly”? Because here’s the thing: that song is awesome. If you ask me, they pretty much topped out with it, even taking into account the goofy rap portions. I want to make this clear: “Motownphilly” is nothing to be ashamed of. But it seems to me that, after hitting it huge with boring R&B ballads like “End of the Road” and “I’ll Make Love to You” they probably now feel a little silly about their new jack swing debut. It’s goofy and dated and not very sexy at all. They talk about cheese steaks and doo wop.

Here’s the way I see it playing out: Shawn Stockman is at a club with a bevy of women, talking about how great the R&B lifestyle is, name-dropping his industry buddies and talking about how he’s got a pool table in his basement, and suddenly the soundsystem starts blaring: “Back in school we used to dream about this every day; could it really happen, or do dreams just fade away? Everybody’s singing and they said it sounded smooth; so we started a group and here we are, kicking it just for you!” And Shawn turns to the ladies and is like, “um… did you know that Eddie Murphy and I are BFF?” I mean, isn’t “Motownphilly” the equivalent of awkward yearbook photos? Am I just being ridiculous?

2. There must have been a Boyz II Men: Behind the Music, but I sure haven’t seen it. I figure theirs must be the most boring and drama-free music biography. You know, like Michael McCary had a debilitating addiction to cribbage. Or one show they weren’t sure that Wanya Morris would be able to perform because he was bedridden with an ice cream headache. And then the band almost broke up because Nathan Morris slept with Wanya’s girlfriend, only it turned out that Wanya and she had broken up a few months beforehand, but dude, there are rules. And then they fought through the hardship and now they are best friends again, touring state fairs and sweet sixteen parties all over the mid-Atlantic region.