A Review of Jay-Z's Album The Blueprint

Another year, another Jay-Z album. But this one, released on September 11, 2001, is not just another Jay-Z record. The centerpiece of Jay-Z's assault on fellow rappers Nas and Mobb Deep, The Blueprint is also Jay-Z's most sonically and thematically cohesive album since his debut. It showcases his storytelling skills, street cred, wit, battle ability, songwriting ability, and flow, without feeling deliberate. Every bit of Jay-Z's talent is on display, which is and of itself an ample retort to anyone who would question his position at the head of rap's vanguard.

Production is handled by the soul-sampling half of The Dynasty: Roc la Familia's production team: Kanye West, Bink, and Just Blaze, along with Poke and Tone, Eminem, and Timbaland. Most tracks are subdued, and not particularly showy. Even Timbaland's Hola Hovito is not Vol. 3 ...Life and Times of S. Carter's brassy Big Pimpin; most rely on simple but lush looped samples, which draw attention to his lyrics in much the same way that the sampled, hook-less beats did on his debut. The album strikes a fine balance between the confidence of Reasonable Doubt and the arrogance of later albums. And here, Jay-Z has given fans what they want-him, and no substitutes; beyond Eminem, there are no guests here dropping vocals for anything besides a hook.

Beginning with The Ruler's Back, at once a nod to Slick Rick and hip-hop history, and an affirmation of his lyrical superiority, Jay-Z begins his main assault with the brutal The Takeover. It's an evisceration, a dismantling of credibility, a brusque dismissal. Rather than build upon past Mobb Deep beefs (Tupac, Keith Murray), Jay brings his own ammo, referencing his releasing footage of hardcore rapper Prodigy in a ballerina outfit at Hot 97's annual Summer Jam concert a few months prior. Nas gets equally rough treatment as Jay describes his career as a failure, though it's questionable as to why Jay-Z chose to lump him in with Mobb Deep as Nas was the bigger star and more worthy adversary.

The Takeover lacks the epic hyperbole of a Tupac Shakur diss. The basis of the insult is not set against a backdrop of cowardice and betrayal, of retribution and reprisal. Much of the power of Shakur's infamous Hit Em Up was in the tone, the sheer vitriol emanating from your speaker. Jay-Z here is as cool, calm, and condescending as he's ever been. His power lies in truth. Prodigy did take dance classes. Nas did put out a lot of mediocre and flat-out bad material, but who would tell Nas he'd underperformed? This public humiliation makes The Takeover the most cringe-worthy aural attack since Hit Em Up.

And just that quickly Jay-Z, having dismembered his opponents and having sent a warning to any who might oppose him in the future, is back to making hit songs. Girls, Girls, Girls is a clever concept record in which Jay-Z slyly describes his love of different types of women here. Izzo is an updated Hard Knock Life. Jigga That ... would be a throwaway club record, except it's quite catchy and serves as a reminder of how effortlessly he tosses them out. Moreover, U Don't Know is a mini-opus, an anchor like Can I Live or Come and Get Me, redolent of Where I'm From from In My Lifetime, Vol. 1, is a clear recapitulation of Jay-Z's rags to riches story, told with style and flair and barbs for the skeptics. It's anthemic, the ethos of the alpha male, whether John D. Rockefeller, John Gotti, or Michael Milken.

On Hola Hovito, over a creaky Timbaland beat, he reiterates a claim that might have been blasphemous when first alluded to in 1997: "And if I ain't better than B.I.G., I'm the closest one." And while it was still un-PC to say, by then, it was true, given the volume and quality of his work, though many hip-hop fans wouldn't admit it in 2001. Jay-Z was facing a backlash due to his growing popularity; by the time this album was released, a Jay-Z record on the radio elicited every reaction under the sun except indifference. He addresses this on Heart of the City, noting he felt underappreciated. It's perhaps the only part of the album in which his invincible persona crumbles a little: from "better than B.I.G.", to a somewhat unseemly appeal for even more respect. But this is mitigated by a rousing production by West, and the tracks that follow: Never Change, an affirmation of his illicit roots for his old friends and old fans, the moving and personal Song Cry, and the breezy All I Need.

Renegade, featuring a dark beat, (one of two on the album), features nimble rhymes from Jay-Z about his childhood, but Eminem upstages him, employing alliteration and metaphor, as he caustically flips idiomatic phrases. Jay-Z's verses align the record with the rest of the album, but it's a weaker defense of his illicit lifestyle than Slim Shady provides of his illicit content.

This leads into the mournful closer, the title track, The Blueprint, a chronological autobiography. His use of ellipsis and internal rhyme heightens the poignancy of each line:

Momma loved me, pop left me
Mickey fed me, Annie dressed me

This is followed by two bonus tracks: the first, the brooding Breathe Easy, uses the extended metaphor of rapping as physical exercise. Done well, it's a fierce rebuttal to any criticized Jay-Z's skill as a rapper; one-liners are good, but storytelling and extended metaphors are among the hallmarks of rap's elite from B.I.G. to Andre 3000. This is followed by an even livelier version of Girls, Girls, Girls, one that practically makes you forget about the original. Produced by Kanye West, Jay-Z provides new verses, as clever as the first set.

These tracks together make a truly remarkable album, and while it may be closer to the hip-hop industry than the street, it is amazing in its ability to captivate and enthrall. It affirms that whether one likes it or not Jay-Z is in fact the heir to B.I.G.'s legacy.

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