J. Cole
Born Sinner
J. COLE HAS a soft power delivery. His touch is light, but when he gets his words right they make deep impact. He doesn't wear an armor of swag and yet, in his understated way, he's extremely swaggish. (The author would totally do him. Take that haters.)
Cole gets criticized for emulating other rappers and failing to do him. This is serious: derivative is a direly bad thing for an artist to be. Born Sinner makes clear that Cole is indeed a worshipful fan of his elders. He quotes other rappers lots on this album, even in its "Juicy"-derived title. (You know: Born sinner, the opposite of a winner / Remember when I useta eat sardines for dinner.) Worshipful fandom I think is wonderful. Worshipful fandom signals utmost respect. Still, it suggests Cole may not have finished his apprenticeship phase yet.
That said, I quite like this album. I love "Forbidden Fruit," featuring Kendrick Lamar. Any rapper is brave to let Kendrick on a track, as the latter is prone to friendly-fire murders. Here the youngins team up to talk about temptation and the ephemeral nature of all things, and I couldn't have borne co-optation of the "Electric Relaxation" beat for any lesser purpose. (I could write a long post just about use of the word "bitch," in this song, but I'll save it.) This was nice:
Came a man by myself, only father was Time
I know that she relate; baby daddy ain't shit
So she raised that nigga kids but she swallowing mine
MUCH BUZZ HAS surrounded the unusually insiderish and confessional track "Let Nas Down." Long story short (which is a phrase Cole uses before telling an unabridged long story), Cole tried many moons in vain to come up with a single for his first album, Cole World, finally arriving at "Workout," a synthesizey, twerkable radio confection, but like...not really a good song.
I remember when "Workout" was released. I'd vaguely heard of this J. Cole character, but not heard him, and "Workout" told me he would be a slick but insipid, kinda boring rapper talking about the usual shit. Apparently Nas, a great hero to Cole and most other people, heard "Workout" and hated it. On "Let Nas Down" Cole admits this disapproval broke his heart. Rappers tend to hide behind their own mystique; hearing one step out and tell a story about professional travails and what it's really like to be a rapper is fascinating.
Knowing, then, his struggles for a Cole World single, we can only imagine Cole's joy upon birthing "Power Trip," an irresistible hit that is also irreproachably Good. It's Good in a very J. Cole way: raw and tender; unabashed but still cool--like "Marvin's Room," but more simple and earnest. He sings and it works, rendering the Miguel hook superfluous. (It's quite a feat to make Miguel, master of emoting through the mic, look like he's trying too hard.)
To rap emotion is not easy, because a rapper has ever a responsibility to eschew softness. Eschewal of softness is not optional; it's as inherent to the game, as, say, ballers' eschewal of slowness. Like Drake, Cole has a talent for walking the line between vulnerability and swagger. I haven't heard a lovelier way to admit feelings whilst remaining hard than J. Cole's on "Power Trip": Love is a drug, like the strongest stuff ever and / Fuck it, I'm on one. There's a significant pause after "and," like he still needed a sec to think about it.
COLE YEARNS for bangers--he speaks of his "Big Pimpin" envy--but chasing those may cause him to neglect his talent for crooked smile storytelling and Fayetteville charm. I admire Cole for staying humble and being a fan of the greats, but he may not yet have enough respect for his own particular gifts. "Big Pimpin" may move the crowd, but "Power Trip" pangs at the heart.
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