Jay-Z, “The Blueprint 3” (Roc Nation) After 11 studio albums, 13 years, dozens of hits and untold millions of records sold, there’s not much left to debate about Jay-Z. You either like his music or you don’t. So the only comparisons that can be made are with himself.
That said, Jay’s new “The Blueprint 3” is on par with his past work. The beats are the best money can buy, from Kanye West, Timbaland, Pharrell, Swizz Beats and others. The lyrics are creative, imperial and evocative — “the audio equivalent of Braille,” in Jay’s words. Overall, it’s a state-of-the-art performance by arguably the greatest to ever speak ghetto poems over music.
Then why does it feel like something’s missing? More than any other modern genre, rap is built on struggle. On “Blueprint 3,” it seems that Jay’s only problem, other than where to land his private jet, is those pesky haters.
Jay has often mined emotional depths, like on 2003’s “Lost Ones” and “Minority Report,” and classics like “Song Cry” and “Never Change” from the first “Blueprint” album dealt with immaturity, costly loyalties and hard life lessons.
But the original “Blueprint” came out in 2001, the day the World Trade Center fell, followed soon after by the music industry.
Now Jay stands atop rap’s ruins, chilling with Oprah, living not in Brooklyn but Robert De Niro’s TriBeCa “with my highbrow art and my high-yellow broad” (the album’s only reference to wife Beyonce).
Still, the musical distillation of this high life remains potent.
“Empire State of Mind,” with Alicia Keys, is an instant New York City anthem, and “Venus vs. Mars” spins a cleverly told tale of twisted lust.
But the majority of Jay’s “Blueprint 3” lyrics are dedicated to the prowess of Jay. Just imagine if the man who sets trends as easily as he sets the time on his six-figure watches chose to dig deeper for subject matter.
Jesse Washington, The Associated Press
