Album Review: Jay-Z - Magna Carta... Holy Grail

It's not about the struggle any more. It's not even about the rise to the top. It's all about the money. Almost every lyric from Jay-Z's famous stream of consciousness freestyles on Magna Carta… Holy Grail, is such a long distance from his humble beginnings that it's hard to fathom this is even the same dude. It's his freestyling that lets him down – such an insight into his subconscious is really showing off just how shallow he has become. Picasso Baby sees him brag about how much art he owns, how his house is now basically a gallery, except it's just for him. Complaining about the paparazzi taking shots of his daughter is both ridiculous and lazy especially when he can't even help making references to cars and other shit on Blue Magic, his ode to her.

Firmly establishing his position as part of the one per cent, he also bitches about paying taxes on Holy Grail. There's a whole track dedicated to rocking the fashion designer Tom Ford, and the album is littered with more mentions of Maybachs than the entire history of rap combined.  The dire nature of the lyrics is especially shameful considering musically the record is pretty good. Kanye is conspicuously absent but Timbaland makes most of the beats in his classic bouncing style of the Missy Elliott records. Usual contributors like Swizz Beatz and Pharrell pop up in co-production credits, but it feels like their appearance is mostly token to fill the credit sheet, except for Pharrell's typically brilliant work on BBC. 

Jay-Z has nothing left to say beyond a 16-bar guest verse, something he needs to ponder before embarking on another album.