Jay-Z Is Vulnerable, Apologetic and Still Dazzling on '4:44'
Our take on the 13th solo album from the hip-hop veteran


If you know anything about Jay-Z's illustrious and groundbreaking career as a rapper, label owner, entrepreneur and "business, man," it's that the Brooklyn native rarely has had time for apologies. He's kept reinventing himself in varying degrees of gangsta rapper, pop star and wise veteran: brushing off pretenders to his throne on 2001's The Blueprint, canonizing himself on 2003's The Black Album, turning retro storyteller on 2007's American Gangster, topping the pop charts with 2009's "Empire State of Mind" and turned his soaring wealth and fame into luxury boasting on 2013's Magna Carta Holy Grail.
So it's unnerving to hear him apologize to his wife, Beyoncé Knowles, on the title track to his 13th album, 4:44. The key song finds album producer No I.D. (producer of Common's seminal 1994 meditation on a lost hip-hop paradise, "I Used To Love H.E.R.") looping British soul unit Hannah Williams & the Affirmations' "Late Nights & Heartbreak" until Williams' voice resembles a crying jag. Her sampled inflection seems to reduce Jay-Z to shame over his past marital infidelities. "I apologize for all the womanizing/Took my child to be born to see through a woman's eyes," he raps in a pained, chastened voice.
Jay-Z's unusual vulnerability elevates 4:44 to something more than just a tawdry reality show. And the album is full of Love & Hip-Hop-styled revelations: Released just Friday, there's already been a wealth of Internet headlines that have sprung from 4:44's lyrical oeuvre. "Kill Jay Z" talks about a rupture in his longtime friendship with Kanye West, "Caught Their Eyes" takes shots at Prince's former estate attorney L. Londell McMillan, "Smile" takes a dig at Beats co-owner and Tidal competitor Jimmy Iovine, "Family Feud" talks slick about Al Sharpton's selfies. "Kill Jay Z" explicitly references the incident where Beyoncé's sister Solange attacked him in an elevator at the 2014 Met Gala. Lines on "Smile" talk openly about his mother Gloria Carter coming out of the closet as a lesbian after years of weathering "society shame": "Cried tears of joy when you fell in love/Doesn't matter to me if it's a him or her," he raps appreciatively.
Jay-Z may no longer conjure the poetical flights of fancy and enigmatically cool flows he achieved on past classics like 1996's "22 Two's" and 2000's "Change the Game." His rhythm and cadence often lands awkwardly, especially on "Caught Their Eyes" and "Bam." But his occasional lack of vocal grace is the reason why 4:44 is so mesmerizing. In the past, he was what Ego Tripmagazine called the Arthur Fonzarelli of New York hip-hop, the suave player who brushed off mad rappers like cement dust from his shoulders. For years, he hid his talents underneath audacious concepts like American Gangster and crass commercial attempts like "Young Forever." Now, the 47-year-old husband and father of three has revealed himself to be a cranky older musician (especially on the fogey-ish "Moonlight") who can still work ruddy beats and ungainly rhymes into rough magic, and dazzle his audience in the process.
Rollingstone.com
Rollingstone.com

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