On 4:44, Jay-Z wasn’t searching for pop trends. Like on Magna Carta, he knew he was the trend. But unlike Magna Carta, he didn’t bow to pop shit. The money and popular interest follow him and his every move, and Jay took that opportunity to lead the masses towards some of his most thoughtful, affecting, fascinating hip hop.
It’s a surprise, hearing a very real, emotional, self-aware human being so consistently in a Jay-Z project. He has, of course, discussed his shortcomings and sensitivities on previous occasions – but to nowhere near the same extent. He introspects on his infidelity and marriage, his relationships with his children (and mythologising in their eyes), while also engaging well with racism and wider social issues. Even tunes delving into ideas about billionaires, which I don’t particularly care about, I can appreciate the inward-looking-ness of.
Jay is also witty, sharp, sweet – and focused. The beats of No I.D. help that focus, perhaps the most continuous of any Jay-Z project. Soulful, chipmunked, they separate Jay in his own league of pop culture importance, chart-adjacent, not chart-chasing.
After trekking through nearly two and a half decades of Jay-Z, I’m wary of naming 4:44 his best. It’s his most interesting and consistent album, perhaps his most iconographic. Is it important? Maybe not so important as Reasonable Doubt, The Blueprint and The Black Album. So maybe not his best, but my favourite.
