3.0 out of 5
Roc Nation
Roc Nation
Jay-Z's new album is not a classic.
There's missteps galore; suspect taste involved in beat and guest selection; atrocious lead singles; a general lack of genre vitality due to inescapable preconditions like its creator's vast wealth, topic exhaustion, and suspect visions from producers Timbaland and Kanye West.
If you've spent hours debating Jay's discography with friends, this bottom line is a bummer. Jay-Z makes classics. He may or may not the best rapper of all-time, but he's unquestionably dwarfed Biggie, Pac, Nas, Andre, Rakim, Big Daddy Kane, everyone, in quality output. Has since '01.
Reasonable Doubt. Volume 2: Hard Knock Life. The Blueprint. The Black Album. American Gangster. My appraisal accounts for five, five-star, mind-consuming LPs.
His second tier of releases is perhaps most engaging years later. There's waves of quality and value and charming filler in ultimately hit or miss albums like In My Lifetime and The Dynasty. We attach gems like "This Can't Be Life" and "Snoopy Track" and the first three cuts from Kingdom Come to instantly better playlists. We seasonally return to these meaty albums to scavenge songs, lines, to remember by-gone rappers like Sauce Money.
Tier two is Blueprint 3's final resting place. This despite cynical haters bitter at its existence. Anyone drawing the Jordan as a Wizard parallel needs to remember that Jay-Z's mind is monstrous and, when he hits the right pockets, flows are fire. Study the Gangster bars and tell me he won't retain relevance in his forties.
Admittedly, BP3 has lots of bullshit.
The cover art itself (a collage of instruments intended to represent Jay's path to crafting an album out of live arrangements and expansive production) is a flat yet defining statement. This is the first Jay album not to feature Jay-Z looking hard on the cover. Conversely, this is one of Jay's most guest-heavy vehicles and one wherein he's perfectly content letting the moment speak for itself.
In other words, this is the first Jay-Z album where all channels and bright spots don't necessarily lead through Jay-Z. Even the crew-promoting, Dynasty-partying Hova wouldn't harbor so much material outside his wheelhouse of nurturing thoughts. He's cool letting his investments and disciples do their thing while he reaps glory.
And, like, I get J. Cole is the first artist signed to Roc Nation, but a newly nabbed deal warrants him a verse on Blueprint motherfucking 3? The Cole collab, "A Star Is Born," is literally a rundown of rappers Jay-Z is a fan of; "Clap for 'em," he clamors on the hook. The song itself is alright, but it's a corner office victory lap anthem segued between many corner office victory lap anthems.
Flavors of the moment Mr. Hudson and Drake sing lame hooks and make horrid songs; Timbaland phones it in; Kanye brings his 808s leftovers and we get dry, moderately passable results. I ultimately blame Kanye for this poorly realized, incomplete vision.
Repeatedly, Jay talks about a "new classic," about making relevant music for advanced minds and thereby vaulting hip-hop past its immature phases. He talks about his responsibility to hip-hop. He talks about looking to the booming indie rock scenes thriving in gentrified urban centers for examples of positive music practices. He's inspired by the renaissance of multi-ethnic Brooklyn neighborhoods run over with creative white people.
The banging but lyrically hollow "D.O.A." reflects said passion. Ditto for the aforementioned Drake disaster, "Off That," the J.U.S.T.I.C.E.-sampling, Swizzy-redeeming "On to the Next One" and delectable, vintage Neptunes-circa-2003 throwback, "So Ambitious."
Within the futile frontlines for tomorrow, it's Hov relaxing and brandishing hardware. This chill state of mind makes for the best music because a) it runs back the playful, loose form of the first Blueprint, b) Jay-Z bragging ("I can make a Yankee hat more famous than a Yankee can") is the best Jay-Z, c) his avante garde, fashion forward, MGMT-big upping, oft-ridiculed sophistafunk vision of rap's future blows.
"Thank You" is a minimalist, smooth Kanye throwaway (here "throwaway" refers to the sticky as hell, simple beats 'Ye blinks up that recall '90s bumpers like Camp Lo's "Luchini") over which Jigga rattles off asides about attending boxing matches and waving from varying, private boxes.
"Empire State of Mind" is a blissful, towering wave of New York City love that finds Alicia Keys destroying a triumphant hook and Jay dropping inspired, honest, perfectly melodramatic raps about Dominicans and McDonald's.
The orchestral, lushly accented Kid Cudi song is gorgeously detailed. The album's intro is fierce. "Reminder" is furious and focused and Timbaland siphons just the right amount of bitterness from his longtime client. Also, the Jeezy cut goes hard.
When Jay-Z's business connections get clogged in his process (still not over J. Cole's presence), that savvy ceo-mind of his clouds the music. When Jay-Z celebrates, we're happy to ride along.
It's Tuesday evening on a Hova release date, 6:58 P.M. CST, this is the longest I've gone without copping a new Jay album. Off to Best Buy.
- Ramon Ramirez
There's missteps galore; suspect taste involved in beat and guest selection; atrocious lead singles; a general lack of genre vitality due to inescapable preconditions like its creator's vast wealth, topic exhaustion, and suspect visions from producers Timbaland and Kanye West.
If you've spent hours debating Jay's discography with friends, this bottom line is a bummer. Jay-Z makes classics. He may or may not the best rapper of all-time, but he's unquestionably dwarfed Biggie, Pac, Nas, Andre, Rakim, Big Daddy Kane, everyone, in quality output. Has since '01.
Reasonable Doubt. Volume 2: Hard Knock Life. The Blueprint. The Black Album. American Gangster. My appraisal accounts for five, five-star, mind-consuming LPs.
His second tier of releases is perhaps most engaging years later. There's waves of quality and value and charming filler in ultimately hit or miss albums like In My Lifetime and The Dynasty. We attach gems like "This Can't Be Life" and "Snoopy Track" and the first three cuts from Kingdom Come to instantly better playlists. We seasonally return to these meaty albums to scavenge songs, lines, to remember by-gone rappers like Sauce Money.
Tier two is Blueprint 3's final resting place. This despite cynical haters bitter at its existence. Anyone drawing the Jordan as a Wizard parallel needs to remember that Jay-Z's mind is monstrous and, when he hits the right pockets, flows are fire. Study the Gangster bars and tell me he won't retain relevance in his forties.
Admittedly, BP3 has lots of bullshit.
The cover art itself (a collage of instruments intended to represent Jay's path to crafting an album out of live arrangements and expansive production) is a flat yet defining statement. This is the first Jay album not to feature Jay-Z looking hard on the cover. Conversely, this is one of Jay's most guest-heavy vehicles and one wherein he's perfectly content letting the moment speak for itself.
In other words, this is the first Jay-Z album where all channels and bright spots don't necessarily lead through Jay-Z. Even the crew-promoting, Dynasty-partying Hova wouldn't harbor so much material outside his wheelhouse of nurturing thoughts. He's cool letting his investments and disciples do their thing while he reaps glory.
And, like, I get J. Cole is the first artist signed to Roc Nation, but a newly nabbed deal warrants him a verse on Blueprint motherfucking 3? The Cole collab, "A Star Is Born," is literally a rundown of rappers Jay-Z is a fan of; "Clap for 'em," he clamors on the hook. The song itself is alright, but it's a corner office victory lap anthem segued between many corner office victory lap anthems.
Flavors of the moment Mr. Hudson and Drake sing lame hooks and make horrid songs; Timbaland phones it in; Kanye brings his 808s leftovers and we get dry, moderately passable results. I ultimately blame Kanye for this poorly realized, incomplete vision.
Repeatedly, Jay talks about a "new classic," about making relevant music for advanced minds and thereby vaulting hip-hop past its immature phases. He talks about his responsibility to hip-hop. He talks about looking to the booming indie rock scenes thriving in gentrified urban centers for examples of positive music practices. He's inspired by the renaissance of multi-ethnic Brooklyn neighborhoods run over with creative white people.
The banging but lyrically hollow "D.O.A." reflects said passion. Ditto for the aforementioned Drake disaster, "Off That," the J.U.S.T.I.C.E.-sampling, Swizzy-redeeming "On to the Next One" and delectable, vintage Neptunes-circa-2003 throwback, "So Ambitious."
Within the futile frontlines for tomorrow, it's Hov relaxing and brandishing hardware. This chill state of mind makes for the best music because a) it runs back the playful, loose form of the first Blueprint, b) Jay-Z bragging ("I can make a Yankee hat more famous than a Yankee can") is the best Jay-Z, c) his avante garde, fashion forward, MGMT-big upping, oft-ridiculed sophistafunk vision of rap's future blows.
"Thank You" is a minimalist, smooth Kanye throwaway (here "throwaway" refers to the sticky as hell, simple beats 'Ye blinks up that recall '90s bumpers like Camp Lo's "Luchini") over which Jigga rattles off asides about attending boxing matches and waving from varying, private boxes.
"Empire State of Mind" is a blissful, towering wave of New York City love that finds Alicia Keys destroying a triumphant hook and Jay dropping inspired, honest, perfectly melodramatic raps about Dominicans and McDonald's.
The orchestral, lushly accented Kid Cudi song is gorgeously detailed. The album's intro is fierce. "Reminder" is furious and focused and Timbaland siphons just the right amount of bitterness from his longtime client. Also, the Jeezy cut goes hard.
When Jay-Z's business connections get clogged in his process (still not over J. Cole's presence), that savvy ceo-mind of his clouds the music. When Jay-Z celebrates, we're happy to ride along.
It's Tuesday evening on a Hova release date, 6:58 P.M. CST, this is the longest I've gone without copping a new Jay album. Off to Best Buy.
- Ramon Ramirez
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