"Kill Jay-Z," the album's awfully effective opener, hides most of Carter's better lyricism, discussing family with a closeness far removed from the majority of JAY-Z's other material. But it's clouded his ability to rap about anything at all, and it runs counter to 4:44's purpose of being intensely personal.Įlsewhere, results vary. He's made a lot of money and, understandably, he's proud of it. This isn't deeply personal as much as it is a business leader trying and failing to explore himself and his values. Between a very basic description of appreciation- ' bought some artwork worth 1 million / 2 years later that sh it worth 2 million / few years later that sh it worth 8 million,'- and a very basic description of appreciation- ' could'a bought a place in Dumbo before it was Dumbo for like 2 million / that same building today is worth 25 million,'- he trades on antisemitic stereotypes to prove a very basic point about appreciation.
JAY Z 444 REVIEW SKIN
Perhaps no song is more emblematic of this than "The Story of OJ," a riff on race through types of 'ni ggas' and the retail value of skin colour. Despite JAY-Z's material, he always seems cooly distant to what he's rapping about, in part due to his clumsy technique. It's nice to listen to but it's never going to do anything impressive, at all. His style might carry him through a feature, but Reasonable Doubt, The Black Album, and, dare I say, The Blueprint 3, are behind him, and he's settled on a performance practice best described as lounge rap. But the truth remains that JAY-Z is not spectacularly skilled as either an MC or a lyricist. Never mind the fact that Beyoncé outperformed him on a song where he trotted out a fairly well done 21 Savage impression Carter's still got it, whatever it is. Otherwise, he's specialized in tight, not entirely clever but nevertheless boastful raps that, whilst absolutely stunted in momentum, can make a song worth listening to ("Drug Dealer's Anonymous," "I Got The Keys," "Biking"). At his worst, as in "Monster," he delivers words with a lack of grace matched only by his studiously average stadium rap flow.
Of course, the rumours of JAY-Z's demise have often been, at best, labored and unnecessary. 4:44 is merely a victim of actuality: these days, JAY-Z just isn't much of a rapper. But, despite the content of the subtext, and the profundity with which Carter appreciates these situations, it's difficult to wrap it all up as a given. He even ethers Kanye a little bit, with No I.D. He very loudly brings his shame to the fore, raising paranoia over whether or not it was his philandering that caused divine intervention in Beyonce's multiple miscarriages.
He talks about his mother coming out as gay, and the very real implications of that news. As Carter raps throughout, he admits to infidelity, which directly led to to him abusing Solange in the elevator. Although smothered in the sort of promotion that boosted Beyonce's fantastic self-titled album and Lemonade (and, coincidentally, sunk Magna Carta,) 4:44 presents itself as a fresher, honest reflection on the recent happenings of Shawn Carter, which, admittedly, isn't just the matters of the bourgeoise.
None of which is to say JAY-Z doesn't deserve to make music, it's just that when he does, he often doesn't realize just how boring he sounds making it.Īnd that's where 4:44 slides into the discussion. If you listened to Business Man JAY-Z's last album, Magna Carta Holy Grail, you got exactly this a warped sense of personality, made by a man whose idea of existence once involved a racially dented American Dream, but now is just the American Dream. They don't feel like you and I might feel, and, sure, though they might once have felt the things that you and I feel, they're now also wrapped up in a whole other language that dissuades lowly outsiders from looking in. They're cold, technocratic, and suspicious of feeling, trusting of statistics, profit margins, equity, the bottom-line, and a myriad of buzzwords. The sentiment is nice, but it all looks like it means nothing, other than the accumulation of money through, *ahem,* goodwill.Įssentially, business leaders aren't very good at connecting with humans. In photos, he points his finger in the way that Willie Stark might, rolling up his sleeves and promising to reach out and connect with people with the inherent coldness of PR expertise, each handshake sanitized both metaphorically and literally. You might not have heard his presidential exploratory campaign disguised as a goodwill tour has snaked through Alabama, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Indiana, with all the electoral expertise of a man intent on an unwise 50-state strategy. Mark Zuckerberg is running for president. Review Summary: Cry, Jay Z, we know the pain is real.