Amidst hip-hop's incessant braggadocio, few rappers have as thoroughly earned their right to talk as Jay-Z. Journalists have made careers out of chronicling Shawn Carter's now 10-year tenure as an artist, from the hustler wordplay of the still-astounding "Reasonable Doubt" of 1996 (still one of the best debuts in hip-hop history) to his 2001 opus "The Blueprint" (still one of the best records in hip-hop history).
When Notorious B.I.G. died in 1997, it was unclear who, if anyone, would be able to replace the enormous creative vacancy left in the New York rap world, but with his babbling-brook flow and singular lyrical acumen, Jay-Z quickly positioned himself as the premier East Coast MC.
But of Hova's many skills, his business sense is perhaps his greatest gift. Since 2000, Jay-Z, current president and CEO of Def Jam and Roc-a-Fella Records, owner of swanky Manhattan hotspot the 40/40 Club, part-owner of the New Jersey Nets, and all-around entrepreneurial baller, has been one of the hip-hop industry's best capitalists. For years, rapping has been just another hustle for Jay-Z, but always one that he has done with complete skill. His business activity never compromised what is one of hip-hop's most remarkable vocal abilities ... until now.
"Kingdom Come," his "comeback album" from a hiatus that no one believed would last, really is as bad as nearly everyone says it is. Now pushing 40, Jay-Z spits with the vitality and passion of someone twice that age - and the wit and insight of someone a quarter of it. "Kingdom Come"'s subject matter is dull and repetitive, and it seems as though El Presidente's myriad business engagements have taken the place of anything interesting he has to say.
Nearly each of the album's 13 tracks features an overzealous celebration of his return from a clearly temporary hiatus or some bit of trite, seasoned advice. Over a Dr. Dre beat as tepid and tiresome as Jay-Z's delivery, Hova raps on "Lost One": "Except that fame is/ the worst drug known to man/ It's stronger than heroin/ When you could look in the mirror like, 'There I am'/ And still not see/ What you've become." What once used to be a rich and engaging contextual repertoire that spanned from street life and legal finagling to nice cars and "Big Pimpin'" has now been reduced to little more than, "Hey! I'm back!"
With all the number-crunching and corporate buyouts eating up his schedule, Jay-Z seems to have run out of time to practice his flow, and it shows on "Kingdom Come."
Admittedly, for years he has been slowing his cadence down since the track meets of, for example, 1998's "Vol. 2 ... Hard Knock Life," but never has he sounded as ungainly as he does on "Kingdom Come." On the title track, he stumbles over his own (boring) internal rhymes, barely filling the verse with "I'm so indebted/ I should've been deaded." What used to be the laid-back cockiness of a rapper who rightly thought that he owned the game is now the boring talk of an investment banker with baggy jeans and a Yankees hat.
But to be fair, Jay-Z isn't the only one to mail it in on "Kingdom Come." Just Blaze brings his A-game with witty tweaks of Rick James' "Superfreak" ("Kingdom Come") and The Allman Brothers' "Whipping Post" ("Oh My God"), but other than that, the beats might be even more underwhelming than the rhymes.
With "Lost One," "30 Something" and "Trouble," the normally untouchable Dr. Dre pukes up not one, not two, but three hollow, limp tracks that even Doogie Howser would struggle to breathe life into. Still, these are bangers compared to the garage band garbage of "Dig a Hole" that Swizz Beats apparently threw together on the way to the studio. Not like Swizz is known as a top producer, but he has to have some better beats tucked away somewhere.
That Jay-Z didn't get the absolute best his producers had to offer is a complete anomaly, and it also lends credence to the belief that he hasn't, in fact, lost his game, but rather, that making a dope album just isn't that important to him anymore. His crowded schedule doesn't allow time for syllable practice, and he can't nag Dr. Dre to step it up while he's buying up more nightclubs and basketball teams. For Hova, it is financially more important to still technically be a rapper than to be a good one.
Maybe it makes good business sense: Much of his allure as an investor is his street cred and appeal to young people, and continuing to release rap records is certainly a way to maintain this persona. But as a rule, it is never sound fiscal policy to put your name on legacy-marring trash like this.
