Defenders of R. Kelly implore listeners to separate the music from the man, which is a good rule to follow in general, but the specifics of his case make it a little harder to do. If the child pornography allegations leveled against him weren't so heinous (not to mention detailed and allegedly supported by videotapes), and if he weren't so quick to paint himself as a martyr — highlighted by, but not limited to, him bizarrely empathizing with Osama Bin Laden in a 2003 interview with Blender Magazine — it might be easier to ignore his trials and tribulations and focus on the art. Of course, a whirlwind of similar charges, including an annulled marriage to the teenage Aaliyah, doesn't exactly help matters either, nor does his music. His catalog is soaked in sex and gleefully shallow, celebrating the pleasures of the moment, whether it's carnal ("Bump n' Grind") or corny ("I Believe I Can Fly"). The heightened graphic sexuality of his oeuvre feeds suspicions that the allegations, even if they can't be proved, have weight, which makes it very hard for some listeners to hear Kelly's music without thinking of the scandals.