Album Review: Jay-Z Makes You His Therapist on the Confessional “4:44”

Sixteen years ago, on “Heart of the City”, Jay-Z sang, “Take ‘em to church.” On 4:44, he’s trading religious confession for therapy.

Describing himself with psychoanalytical language like “emotionally available”, and amending his comments when he’s politically incorrect, the unretired and very sorry Jay uses his comeback record to respond to wife Beyoncé’s adultery accusations from her 2016 album, Lemonade.

And then some.

There are more revelations on 4:44 than there are hooks (and there are actually a fair few of those), from the outing of Jay’s mother, his continuing feud with frenemy Kanye West, confirmation of Beyoncé’s previous miscarriages and admissions of his own failings as a man.

Jay also accidentally reveals he binge-watched all those O.J. Simpson shows and documentaries last year too, opening his stand-out track, “The Story of O.J.”, with the quote, “I’m not black, I’m O.J.” (That line leads to the brilliantly executed punchline: “[Long pause] … okay?”)

The album’s producer, No I.D., begins the record with sirens. Jay’s first line is even more alarming: “Kill Jay Z”. Sean Carter knows how the public feels about him following Lemonade’s atomic blast; he correctly concludes forgiveness will come after a self-immolating public penance. The propulsive beat pushing his persona-killing lyrics helps as well.

His attention turns outward on “The Story of O.J.”, which floats on a Nina Simone sample before the drums erupt. The song, which has garnered accusations of anti-Semitism, echoes O.J.’s despairing belief that only wealth transcends race, as Jay sings, “financial freedom my only hope,” and proceeds to explain how his transactions in the art world have made him a millionaire many times over. The secluded Tidal owner can’t be expected to deliver the same street-level statements on racism in America as Kendrick Lamar and Vince Staples, yet how he perceives the racial struggle from the absolute upper echelon is uniquely compelling.

Coarse language warning.

The cheerful, Stevie Wonder-sampling “Smile” is stolen by Jay’s mother, Gloria Carter, who closes the song with a poem about her hidden life as a lesbian. “Caught Their Eyes” is similarly swept away by the suddenly-prolific Frank Ocean, who rhymes “solipsistic” with “admit it”, as only Frank can.

Of course, the main attraction is the epic two-song suite that directly addresses Jay’s rumoured infidelity. On “4:44”, he runs through his transgressions (womanising; harassment; telling Bey, “don’t embarrass me”) and fears (“not meant to cry and die alone in these mansions”), before returning to his repeated refrain: “I apologise.” The figure that looms over proceedings, Beyoncé, graces Jay with a feature on “Family Feud”, in which she sounds distant and faded but omnipresent, before arriving in the foreground of the mix during this musical reconciliation with a very on-brand “Amen”.

Side B doesn't quite reach the heights of Side A, though 4:44 never sticks around long enough to disappoint. In its final, soulful duo of “Marcy Me" and “Legacy” (which, most painfully, recall Kanye’s work on their friendship-forming The Blueprint), we see Jay looking back on where he’s come from, and then, wondering what he’s leaving behind for child Blue Ivy and his new, still-secret twins.

Given that the Carter family refuses to engage with the media, their albums have become the best and only insight into their private lives. However, it’s hard to know if their records are press releases, or creative inventions. Are we hearing the truth about a crumbling marriage and its reconstruction, or are these simply characters, played by two of the great creatives of our era?

We may never know the truth behind the curtains of the Carter-Knowles household. But real or fake, this narrative of revenge, rebirth and reinvention has given Jay his biggest raison d’etre in decades. Retirement should be the furthest thing from his mind.

4/5

4:44 is now available.

Coarse language warning.

Photo: Roc Nation