Songs like BBC and Somewhereinamerica are simply fun to listen to, and their largely superficial lyrics do nothing to dampen that enjoyment. JAY Z ALBUMS MAGNA CARTA HOW TOHe sounds most engaged on “Jay-Z Blue,” where he grapples with his deepest fears about parenthood: “Father never taught me how to be a father, treat a mother/I don’t wanna have to just repeat another, leave another/Baby with no daddy.” It’s a vivid, powerful moment that reminds you what he can do when he really cares. Much like The Blueprint 3, Magna Carta Holy Grail is an album you blast in your car or listen to while working out, filled with great production and driving beats. Maybe he’s starting to run out of things to say – or maybe, absent a foil like Kanye West on 2011’s superb Watch the Throne or Kendrick Lamar on this year’s “Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe” remix, he can’t find the energy to push himself creatively.Įven at his most checked-out, Jay-Z remains a great MC listen to how he layers his imagery on the Frank Ocean-assisted “Oceans”: “On the holiday, playing ‘Strange Fruit’/If I’m-a make it to a billi, I can’t take the same route.” But there’s not much on Magna Carta . . . Holy Grail that he hasn’t said before in more interesting ways. He retired, then unretired, and that was four albums ago. Jay-Z has been telling us about himself since 1996. In part, he’s the victim of his own remarkable longevity and extraordinary success. What happened to the guy who would have devoured those jiggly synth squelches a couple of years ago? It hurts to see him waste a primo Timbaland beat like this. “Tom Ford, Tom Ford, Tom Ford.” He sounds bored half to death by the basic rhyme, listlessly repeating the designer’s name like it’s going to magically transform into a clever or catchy hook. “Numbers don’t lie, check the scoreboard,” he says in a distracted tone. Take “Tom Ford,” which might mark the lyrical nadir of Jay-Z’s catalog. What’s disappointing is, he doesn’t always seem to be winning that argument. But Jay often sounds like he’s trying to convince himself that he should still be excited about making music. The production, mostly handled by Timbaland, is woozy and grand – another luxury possession. Jay-Z sorts through his mixed feelings about celebrity, then cheers himself up by itemizing the awesome things he owns. This is how it goes for most of Magna Carta . . . Holy Grail.
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