The following review appears in The Source 20th
Anniversary issue currently on shelves.
Pick that shit up. This, however,
is the uncut version:
Fedoras off to the
only Jay-Z album that heads everywhere – from clubs to campuses to corners –
agree is a resounding classic. Reasonable Doubt immediately preceded
the underground-commercial schism, and, historically speaking, marks the first,
last and only time that Hova’s creative genius was not at all compromised by
hokey beats and senseless boasting.
Though he’d
accomplished relatively little in hip-hop before Reasonable Doubt, on his debut Jay-Z came off as a superlative
statesman. Couture braggadocio was in
its fetal stages, and, on tracks such as “Feelin’ It” and “Can’t Knock the
Hustle,” Hova introduced a newer, more sophisticated type of player. Not to mention one who spit full clips
alongside B.I.G. on “Brooklyn’s Finest.”
There are too many
exceptional moments to mention. On
“Ain’t No,” Jay and Foxy Brown freaked The Whole Darn Family’s “Seven Minutes
of Funk” for a generation who missed Erik Sermon’s rendition. For “22 Two’s,” he spilled an elaborate
verbal feat that inspired countless concept cuts; and on “Friend or Foe,” Hova
used his obligatory Premo beat to draw a picture that Picasso would be proud
of.
Despite the tales
of drugs, guns and glory spread across Reasonable
Doubt, Jay-Z was hardly reckless. In
his finest moments, namely “D’Evils” and “Dead Presidents II,” he detailed
didactic street tales while acknowledging: “Murdering is a tough thing to
digest.”
Looking back, it’s
necessary to wonder: Would the genre would be better off if Jay-Z never ushered
in the money first, music second attitude that distinguished him from his
contemporaries, but that now plagues hip-hop?
Maybe, but not beyond a reasonable doubt.