How do you meet lofty expectations? After his thoroughly disappointing debut, Cole World- The Sideline Story, J. Cole dusts himself off and takes one more stab at a proper studio album with Born Sinner, a record that promises more than it can deliver. To say that the pressure on J. Cole to create something that will shock the rap world is high would be an understatement, as fans have set their full attention on him ever since his signing with Jay-Z’s Roc Nation label in 2009. To stack this effort up against the great rap albums of all-time might seem unfair, but this is exactly the rubric with which J. Cole seems to encourage his listeners to grade him. Overtly sampling Outkast and A Tribe Called Quest, comparing his character to Jay-Z and his ability to speak the truth to 2Pac, moving his release date to challenge Kanye West, and taking the album’s title from a Biggie-ism, Cole invites comparison after comparison to the genre’s legends. Unfortunately, we fail to see more than mere glimmers of original offerings that Cole himself is bringing to the table, while all of the above listed names had developed personas and styles that had made them stand out at this stage in their careers.
Cole insists, “It’s way darker this time,” at the very beginning of our trip through Born Sinner, but in comparison to what? If it is in comparison to Cole World, that would be like a screenplay writer insisting his next script is way darker than Elf. ANYTHING will pass that test. Still, J. Cole does show signs of maturity, using clever wordplay to mock his generation for listening to Trinidad James and inquiring about his affiliation with made-up secret societies in “Villuminati.” He’s ready to be an adult and tackle larger issues, but in many cases the topics that Cole covers are not nearly as heavy as he believes they are, and are either dull (“Chaining Day”) or have already been explored in greater depth (“Crooked Smile”, whose only saving grace is the appearance of TLC, feels like a carbon copy of Kendrick Lamar’s “No Make-Up," or even worse, Bruno Mars’ “Just The Way You Are”). Other times his focus seems to be a bit scattered, struggling to deliver a clear message (“Trouble”). Couple that with a sanctity vs. sin theme that doesn’t seem fully fleshed out, and you have an album that certainly suffers from its share of rough patches.
That is not to say that Born Sinner doesn’t have its moments of redemption. The production on the album is impressive considering it was almost entirely undertaken by Cole himself, who is continuing to improve as a beat-maker (hopefully this will bode well for his collaboration with Kendrick Lamar, due out some time in the next year). “Power Trip” (featuring soul-singing extraordinaire Miguel) is miles ahead of any other pop crossover hit he has attempted to make, and looked at in the context of being a love letter to hip-hop much like Common’s “I Used To Love H.E.R," it is quite beautiful. The Carolina rapper is able to show off his chops on “Mo Money” and “Ain’t That Some Shit," the only complaint being that these interludes weren’t a bit longer. The true prize, however, is towards the end, as J. Cole confronts his past failures accompanied by what can only be described as, in the best of ways, a sweaty lounge saxophonist on the straight-shooting “Let Nas Down.” He speaks of losing sight of why he began rapping and how he disappointed the one lyricist he worshiped above all others on his way to the top of the charts. J. Cole asks future rappers to heed his warnings, proclaiming “Long live the idols may they never be your rivals.” It seems to be the only instance where he successfully develops his own identity through mentioning another rapper. Followed up by the full-hearted cut “Born Sinner” featuring Cocaine 80s singer James Fauntleroy, the end of Born Sinner manages to make up for some of the weaker songs that come before it.
I’ve been a fan of J. Cole since my brother showed me his mixtapes when I was just starting high school. I could sit here for hours and talk about how angry I am that he sampled “Da Art of Storytellin’ (Part One)” by Outkast on “LAnd of Snakes” and “Electric Relaxation” by A Tribe Called Quest on “Forbidden Fruit," and did neither of those songs justice, but my frustration comes less from a place of resentment for challenging the hip-hop gods and more of a desire to here him do something completely original. J. Cole has spent far too much time lurking in the shadows of rappers that are more talented than him, as the constant namedrops that plague so many of his songs have become nothing more than dead weight. Hopefully he will continue to take steps forward in the right direction, but at age 28, he’s not exactly a kid anymore, and if he doesn’t turn things around soon, all that potential he displayed back in 2009 may go to waste.
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