Hello? Where’d you guys go? I can’t see you.
On December 2nd, J. Cole surprised and rejuvenated Hip Hop fans with his fourth studio album announcement, 4 Your Eyez Only. In the same vain as the long list of surprise 2016 albums, Cole reported this project only a week prior to its release—with a 40-minute documentary including two songs that didn’t make the project ("False Prophets" and "Everybody Dies")—filling his fanbase with pride, excitement and the hope of reintroducing lyricism and authenticity to Hip Hop. The successor to his well-received, featureless, meme-rich project, 2014 Forest Hills Drive, 4 Your Eyez Only was poised to punctuate 2016’s musical depth. Fans took to social media to share their excitement. I had no idea everyone was the biggest J. Cole supporter.
My Facebook timeline was flooded with statuses like: “Finally! J. Cole is bringing real rap back!”… “Cole about to go platinum with no features AND no singles!” … “Jermaine! Be my sperm donor!” I might’ve taken creative liberties with the last quote, but you get my point: people were suspiciously excited for this release. By no means am I knocking Cole or questioning the impact of his anticipated album—I too was happy about his entrance into the 2016 best album discussion. I’m just curious how people went from dismissing him as soft on Born Sinner to acting like they’re suffocating and 4 Your Eyez Only is the exclusive oxygen source.
The week between the album’s announcement and release dragged by, but December 9th finally arrived (technically nighttime, December 8th). Its drop provided classic Jermaine pillars of success: no features, almost exclusive Cole production (with help from Boi-1da, Nico Segal and others) and a succinct 10-song track list. Wiping away tears of joy while calming their trembling fingers, fans prepared to be reintroduced to real rap.
Hello? Where’d you guys go? I can’t see you.
Despite their initial elation, Cole’s “patrons” quickly showed their true colors the following day with their loudest reaction yet: silence. Where did the people go who championed real rap’s return? Is Cole still going platinum with no features and no singles? Do you still crave Jermaine’s seed? For every gushing Facebook post about the 4 Your Eyez Only announcement, there was a disproportionate quietness for its drop. Most likely expecting a release similar to his critically acclaimed 2014 Forest Hills Drive, Cole supporters abandoned adoration when they realized that this album didn’t align with their expectations. But if they were genuine fans, they would’ve seen this coming.
At the inaugural Queens, NY Meadows Festival in October, Cole said that this was going to be his “last show for a very long time.” On his DJ Khaled Major Key album cut, “Jermaine’s Interlude,” Cole discussed retreating from music with the lines, “How the fuck do I look when I brag to you ’bout some diamonds? / Said all that I could say, now I play with thoughts of retirement.” In a December 2nd DJ Booth article, he was quoted saying, “You get to this height, this level in your career in terms of platform, whose to say the next one might go down? It could go up? You’re never guaranteed to be this high again. While I’m here, let me use this opportunity to say the realist shit I’ve ever said. In case the next time it’s down here, when I got to the top of the mountain, this is what I had to say. That intention been there, that feeling has been there.”
Let that sink in for a minute.
All of this evidences Jermaine’s musical identity crisis and undying wish to speak uninhibitedly—he’s unfazed by the public’s reception. Knowing fame’s fickle nature, Cole wanted to ensure that he took advantage of his platform while it was still a pedestal. He’s aware that his microphone is currently one of the loudest; he’s got one of the loudest messages.
Cole’s superior production and perpetuation of socially conscious rhymes contributed to fans’ surging anticipation for this project. Today’s hot-button Hip Hop complaint of exchanging deep bars for hyphy club hits has dominated radio shows, podcasts and lunch table discussions. I get it. I’m the first one to hate on Lil Uzi Vert and the first one to call Lil Yachty a lil bitch. And I’m not even going to say “be careful what you wish for” because that’s suggesting J. Cole didn’t provide a complex, thought-provoking, conceptual album structured by a medley of energizing and somber production. J. Cole strongly delivered on his promise of using his platform to share his uninhibited mindset. He gave us what we needed. Don’t blame him because you didn’t understand your wish.
Was 4 Your Eyez Only filled with bangers and party hits? No. Did Cole ever once suggest that was going to be his route? No. That’s not to say that this album doesn’t possess head-bumping production (see “Immortal” and “Deja Vu”)—it’s to say that this album is a dynamic body of work representing Jermaine’s integrity and ability.
4 Your Eyez Only is a journey—it’s a story of introspection and development. At first look, it’s coming to grips with his purpose in life that extends past music and fame, and into love and family. From contemplating suicide on the first track, “For Whom The Bell Tolls” with the passionate bars, “Tired of feeling low even when I'm high / Ain’t no way to live, do I wanna die? / I don't know, I don't know,” to meeting the love of his life on “She’s Mine Pt. 1” and that love culminating in the reveal of his daughter’s birth on “She’s Mine Pt. 2,” we witness Jermaine’s progression and re-prioritization of life. At second look, it’s much more than that.
It’s theorized that this project isn’t about J. Cole himself, but about his friend. The two follow a similar life trajectory of growing up in Fayetteville, North Carolina and meeting life milestones: falling in love and procreation. However, his friend relies on selling drugs and other street life staples to provide, ultimately leading to his death. The entire project is from his friend’s vantage point up until the last verse of the last song when J. Cole speaks directly to his fallen brothers’ daughter, assuring her that despite hustling, her father was a good man. This album is for her eyes only.
Understanding this hidden point of view further contextualizes Jermaine’s exposition of impoverished neighborhoods. Only an iota make it out like J. Cole did. The overwhelming majority falls victim to the streets like his friend. Cole humanizes the hood's elements by making a pedestrian individual the protagonist, not the rap superstar. J. Cole is one of one: never to be duplicated or replicated.
Jermaine did what he set out to: he made an unrepressed album citing his frustrations, fears and development. This is his To Pimp a Butterfly moment to a certain degree. If you dismissed this album as a boring, monotonous entity, I feel sorry for you. If you only listened once through, I feel sorry for you. You just missed everything you wished for.
Hello? Where’d you guys go? I can’t see you.