It's a vigorous if not particularly moving track, principally produced by Timbaland and J-Roc, which expresses bewilderment and conflicting emotions about rising from poverty to opulence. Like few other album openers, "Holy Grail" encapsulates what follows it and reflects a particular point in an artist's career. Jay-Z has been in this mode at various points, but never in such concentrated, enlightened form, whether the subject is his mistakes as a husband, the struggles of his long-closeted lesbian mother, the effects of enduring systemic racism, or the assertion of his supremacy. Filled with references to profit and forms of pride granted by birth and earned by hustling, 4:44 nonetheless is an unglamorous set well suited for solitary and reflective late-night listening. Even the Frank Ocean and Beyoncé appearances sound sourced from a crate. The whole album has a fine matte-like finish with nuanced rhythms and soul, funk, reggae, and prog samples that frequently enhance the tracks on an emotional level, not just a sonic one. From any other artist, 36 minutes of repentance, self-satisfaction, and wisdom regarding issues such as faithfulness, vast wealth, ethical consumption, and the deficiencies of a younger rap generation would likely fall flat, but Jay-Z continues to write at a Hall of Fame level and raps with high levels of conviction, contrition, and wit. This somehow makes album 13 seem older than its true age. Even more noteworthy is its chronological distinction as a follow-up to Beyoncé's Lemonade, a cathartic album prompted in part by Jay-Z's extramarital behavior.
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Approach-wise, the 13th Jay-Z studio album is a change of course for its employment of only one beatmaker, No I.D., whose previous Jay-Z credits across a decade plus - a comparatively flashy crop that includes a major portion of The Blueprint 3 - amount to an album's worth of tracks, primarily as co-producer. Going by a jocular shot at specific Al Sharpton social media activity within, there was also the completion of 4:44, delivered on the last of the month.
The Beyoncé Knowles-Shawn Carter family added fourth and fifth members. The 44th president of the United States inducted him as the first rap lyricist into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. What's important to him now is to continue to rule and be respected. But after listening to the album several times over, 4:44 impresses with its precision, its workmanship, and a certain kind of perfection. He is restrained in his choice of other artists who feature, inviting only Frank Ocean and Damian Marley to the album. Jay-Z has made a classic album, a true Jay-Z album, with groovy and erudite choices of samples (Fugees, Stevie Wonder, Funk Inc., Donny Hathaway to name a few) over which he lays down introspective rhymes on the turpitudes of conjugal life with Mrs Carter (who features on Family Feud), and reflecting on his status and ego. No vaguely electro sounds, no contemporary beats. (it's rare for Jay-Z to hand the keys to a single producer) and it remains true to the fundamentals of Jay-Z's work. The album was produced by Ernest Dion Wilson a.k.a. And 4:44 makes for a beautiful couch to do just that. Rather, he is hitting the psychoanalyst's couch. At 47, having nothing to prove to anyone, Jay-Z is not out to gauge the competition or battle the new generation. No: the Brooklyn rapper's struggle is entirely with himself. Jay-Z, has found himself a target for clashes throughout 4:44, it's not with Kanye, or Kendrick, or any other fellow musician.
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