J. Cole's Neighbors: The importance of not being #Relatable

On December 9th, 2016, American rapper J. Cole released his fourth studio album, "4 Your Eyez Only." The album was a solid piece of work that was met with generally positive reviews but it echoed one of the main attributes and faults of J. Coles music, the fact that it is very #relatable. And sometimes to a fault. During my first listen I liked what I heard and I felt like it was business as usual until I got to the 7th track of the album, Neighbors.  What caught me was not that the track was a departure sonically from what I had heard from Cole's catalogue, but because there was something starkly different about it from pretty much anything else I had heard from his work prior. It was and is, in my opinion, J. Cole's least relatable track. 

The song itself is a very simple song. The beat is very stark and without much ornamentation (the story of how he made it is pretty cool), the hook is very plain and the lyrics aren't full of double entendres or braggadocio but thesis of the song, which is inspired by true events, is where the magic lies. That statement being,  MY HOUSE IS SO BIG THAT MY NEIGHBORS THINK I'M PABLO ESCOBAR REBORN. For those who don't know the story, J. Cole's mansion in North Carolina was once raided by SWAT after his neighbors believed him to be some kind of drug kingpin. This is not very relatable. Not even in the slightest. Much of Cole's work has mainly revolved around the plight of poor people, loving your life despite struggle, with the occasional party track here and club banger there, but with the ultimate desire to tell stories that connect. What made Neighbors such a stand out track was not that he did not desire to tell us our stories, but he told us his. The story of a mega successful rapper and how even in a world where millions know his name, can still feel so small and two sets of lyrics expertly paint the picture of what it means to be Jermaine Cole, international superstar.

"I been building me a house back home in the south ma, wont believe what it's costing. And its fit for a king right or a n*gga that can sing and explain all the pain that it cost him." 

"Somethings you cant escape, death, taxes and a racist society that make every n*gga feel like a candidate, for a Trayvon kind of fate." 

"I been building me a house back home in the south ma, wont believe what it's costing. And its fit for a king right or a n*gga that can sing and explain all the pain that it cost him." 

"Somethings you cant escape, death, taxes and a racist society that make every n*gga feel like a candidate, for a Trayvon kind of fate." 

The song isn't revolutionary. It doesn't want to be. It doesn't give us a hook we can chant in moments of pain or inspire some great cause. All it says is, "The neighbors think I'm selling dope." In other words, its just honest. It plays out more like a journal entry with an instrumental than political statement about race relations in America. And with that Cole connects in a way that I feel he hasnt been able to in the past because he trades out being #relatable with being real.

So why does this matter? In my journey to create art that I want people to consume and feel, I struggle with trying to be relatable. I don't want to be obscure. I want to people, and a whole lot of them, to see what I make and to feel some personal connection to it and I lie to myself by saying that the only way to achieve this is to force feed them their own stories. I want to be everything to everyone but the reality is I can't. You can't. By all means you if make art or create anything you must make art or create for people that aren't you and tell stories that aren't only exclusive to you and people like you but remember.. You aren't them and they aren't you.  I don't know what it means to be J. Cole and J. Cole doesn't know what it means to be me but because of the unrelatable honesty of tracks like Neighbors, I see a tiny but important glimpse into the world of J. Cole. 

JAY Z's 4:44. Being past your prime and yet still at your best

Last week on Thursday, June 30th, JAY Z dropped his 13th solo album 4:44. It arrived much acclaim, many praising the albums mature sound and unprecedented introspection. Introspection is something that Jay has shown the ability to do but it has never been on this level and not with this much detail (particularly his admission of infidelity in his marriage with Beyonce). I will you let you know from the beginning, this is not an album review. 4:44 is a good album and I have no interest in going into detail about why it's good but what I am interested in doing is examining a larger truth that the album presents. The idea of being past your prime but still being at your best. 

It's no question that JAY Z is past his prime. Since Blueprint 3 (which came out in September 2009) Jay has been plagued with rumblings, some not so quiet, that he is not the rapper he used to be. Even though his place on the Mount Rushmore of Hip Hop will forever be cemented, his place in the current state of affairs has constantly been under review. Mediocre albums (Magna Carta), lazy sounding features (Timberlake's Suit & Tie), and growing references to high art (a fact that even Drake pointed out) have done nothing but add fuel to the fire. On 4:44 he doesn't prove that he is back to the JAY Z of old. His lyrical prowess is not quite what it used to be, his wit is sharp but isn't armor piercing, his ear for production is still amazing but not as iconic as it used to be. However, and this is big, what JAY Z does prove with this album that he is at his best.

Instead of trying to rehash things that he had done before or write a lyrical, overly dense album to prove that he's still the man (there have been times over the years that he has proven his clout as a rapper's rapper but that) JAY Z decided to do something smarter that made all the difference. He swapped wit and lyrical prowess for wisdom. Instead of trying to have us unpack his bars and lines, he lays out his emotions and thought process and has us unpack that instead. "I'll f*ck up a good thing.. if you let me" is a line from the album that exemplifies this for me. The JAY Z of old may be gone but he has been replaced by a wiser, vulnerable and more mature JAY Z. A JAY Z that can speak to the culture in a way he hasn't done before. 

This is starting to sound like an album review but I promise you it's not. Like I said it's about the larger truth at hand. I'm only 23 and I'm in my mental and physical prime. I can run as faster than I have ever been able to. I can think more creatively than I have ever been able to before. If you're older than me you're probably thinking that I should enjoy it while it lasts. Ideas won't come as quickly as they used to and I'm going to feel my body wear as the years go by. Trust me I know that. And I will know it more fully as it happens. I'm in my prime right now and I'm enjoying it and if you are older you can probably think back to when you were also in your prime. But that's the thing. Your "prime" is fleeting. Time insures that as fact. What isn't fleeting is the idea of being at my best. Understanding what works for you, what used to but doesn't anymore and using all of the factors to create the best thing you can create. You may not be able to produce or create as quickly, you may have to stare at a blank screen longer and longer for that one great idea to unfold but in an era of nostalgia and golden age mentality maybe what we need isn't you in your prime but you at your best.