Duets from beyond the grave: is this pop’s creepiest trend?

Biggie Smalls is to be resurrected for more posthumous couplings, this time to duet with his widow Faith Evans. Will this gimmick ever die?

Notorious BIG, back by unpopular demand.
Notorious BIG, back by unpopular demand. Photograph: New York Daily News/Getty

“Long-awaited” is one of the oiliest cliches in the music industry’s PR lexicon and the press release for the forthcoming album The King & I takes it to Orwellian heights: “Faith Evans and the Notorious BIG release long-awaited duets album.” Most fans stopped anticipating new material from one of hip-hop’s greatest MCs when he was murdered 20 years ago, but apparently some have been impatiently waiting for him to get his finger out.

If anyone has the moral right to use Biggie’s voice, then it’s Evans, his widow, and the project has the blessing of Biggie’s mother, Voletta, but has he not done enough by now? His verses have already been repurposed on 1999’s Born Again; Runnin’ (Dying to Live), his necrophiliac “duet” with the similarly deceased 2Pac; Michael Jackson’s Unbreakable; and 2005’s prematurely titled Duets: The Final Chapter. What more do we want from him?

Barry Manilow’s My Dream Duets album, possibly the genre’s worst offender.
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Barry Manilow’s My Dream Duets album, possibly the genre’s worst offender. Photograph: PR

There’s something uniquely creepy about the duet from beyond the grave. A good duet requires both singers to be, if not in the same room, then at least cognisant of each other’s presence. A duet where only one person knows what’s going on isn’t worthy of the name. The first one I heard was Natalie Cole’s mawkish exchange with her late father Nat King Cole on Unforgettable in 1991, 26 years after his death, but this regrettable trend actually began back in 1965 with Father & Son by Hank Williams Sr and Hank Williams Jr, “singing together in a recording miracle”.

Whoever conceived that bit of studio chicanery has a lot to answer for, from Lisa Marie Presley communing with Elvis on Don’t Cry Daddy (these titles!) to Rod Stewart exhuming Ella Fitzgerald on What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?, a question to which the answer should be: “Not much, Rod. I died in 1996.” Weirdest of all was My Dream Duets, on which Barry Manilow “performed” with Marilyn Monroe, Dusty Springfield and nine more dead singers, presumably because nobody had the guts to stop him. At least Drake and producer 40’s ominous plan to Frankenstein a new Aaliyah album hasn’t come into existence – at least not yet.

An artist is more than a voice. When he was alive, Biggie chose which verses to commit to record and what music to use. He had taste and integrity. In death he has become just a voice on tape; a subjective memory; a device in somebody else’s narrative. The best thing you can say about The King & I is that Biggie would have been happy to duet with Evans, unlike previous posthumous collaborators Nelly and Korn, but for God’s sake let this be the final final chapter.

The King & I is released on Friday 19 May