REMEMBER THE TIMES

A storied hitmaker recalls his rags-to-riches story.

Riley played a major role in pop music in the 1980s and ’90s, cannily blending hip-hop beats and R&B vocals to pioneer a genre dubbed new jack swing. Moreover, he’s done it both as a performer (most notably the trio Guy) and behind the boards, writing and producing for Bobby Brown, Michael Jackson, Blackstreet, and dozens more. He’s earned the right to brag a little, though his story started humbly, as a child in the Harlem projects with a gift for music. By the time he was 12, he was playing keyboards and singing in bands, and after a brief ill-fated stint selling drugs, he stayed focused on music. His story would be a straightforward rocket ride to the top were it not for his early manager, Gene Griffin, who, in Riley’s accounting, was a svengali who bullied lucrative writing, publishing, and co-production credits for himself. But Griffin and other “paper gangsters” aside, Riley’s story is mostly trained on his successful collaborations with MCs and singers, most notably Jackson; as one of the lead songwriters and producers of Jackson’s 1991 album Dangerous, he spent more than a year all-but cohabitating with him. (And witnessed nothing untoward, he stresses.) Riley can be entertaining company when he talks about working in the studio—he’s charmingly enthusiastic and specific about the gear he uses to work on tracks—but almost inevitably reverts to boasting a lot about how successful his singles, albums, and tours are. (The book’s early pages are filled with lengthy encomiums from protégés and contemporaries.) Even now that doesn’t command the charts, he still overhypes his social media standing and K-pop ventures. Riley is an icon, but his memoir feels too much like a tour of his capacious trophy room.

An autobiography more about the hits than the soul behind them.