Feebly.
[Video]
[4.57]
Thomas Inskeep: I can’t think of the last time a rapper so mediocre was so commercially popular: maybe Lupe Fiasco?
[4]
Alex Ostroff: I’m not saying it’s impossible to combine sentimentality and horndoggery successfully – Kanye’s certainly managed it on multiple occasions. But ‘Ye either sentimentalizes & objectifies the same person, sentimentalizes objectification itself, or focuses on the relationship between sentiment and sleaze and the centrality of those tensions to his identity. I think J. Cole is trying to do the same thing, but there’s a disconnect between his guilt and regrets about his relationship with his mother and his duelling trombonists fantasies. The chorus is perhaps an attempt to tie it all together thematically, but Cole is still a Kanye protege who doesn’t have the songwriting skills to execute his often ambitious and occasionally clever concepts. Which basically makes him Lupe 2.0.
[3]
Micha Cavaseno: Years ago, this walking boxden thread come to life once said “You don’t need to rap anymore… Look at Lil’ B.” and its true, because J Cole is eternally inadequate as a producer, rapper and now as a singer and yet his career remains stronger than ever. Here he hoarsely and tunelessly wails for a while, only just catching up to Kanye’s 3rd album maybe 7 too late, before diving into useless rapping for a minute. Boy, his MBDTF is probably going to be just diabolical!
[2]
Crystal Leww: The other day I was chatting with a friend of mine, and he was telling me about his mother proudly telling her friend about something that he’d done. And I remember telling him that I hope I never take it for granted how proud my parents are of me. For three minutes, J. Cole gets that feeling that tightens in my chest when I think about my mom, and then he promptly launches into a verse that veers too far and too poorly away from that feeling. Not all rap songs about bitches and hoes are bad, but it’s bad form to change up the tone halfway through a song about how you feel about your mom.
[5]
Alfred Soto: My students love J. Cole, but they also love Kanye albums released after 2010. What they hear in his perfunctory beats, serviceable flow, and humdrum words I can’t explain, unless they play him so that they don’t have to deal with The College Dropout. “I like to write alone/Be in my zone,” he says. That’s the problem.
[5]
Mo Kim: My parents survived fifteen years in a country they never thought they’d live in. They learned to drive in our local high school’s parking lot and gave half their salary to paying rent in a town where they knew I’d be educated if not accepted; they also carried the weight of their struggles back home, beating and cursing into their two children a distinctly Korean rage that to this day I struggle to spit out. These are never hero-villain tales: we all internalize our own version of the American Dream, and violence is the consequence of our discrepancies. “Apparently” captures the ambiguity of a turbulent past, allowing J. Cole to express a remarkable emotional range as he reflects on his loved ones and his mistakes. The adolescent anger in his sneered “Fuck you” exists alongside the understated guilt of his failure as a son; the hushed sincerity when he declares his love to his mother; the unfettered bravado of that entire second verse–yet to me the heart of the track is that stuttering piano progression strung through its entirety. Even as the percussive rhythms grow defter, it anchors the song, like so many backs bent for somebody else’s children to write their futures on.
[8]
Brad Shoup: That second verse! So damn corny, and loaded with jokes that break apart after a moment’s consideration, like cotton candy in water. Success still doesn’t suit him, thus this project. I’m fine with his raspy singsong (even when he’s on his moon-spoon-june) set against the blurry guitar sustain and violin pizzicato. It’s like a mid-tier alt-rock reverie. Shame he couldn’t think about his mom for more than 30 percent of the track.
[5]