Still writing 2019 on things on the regular? Tjay’s here to help!
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[5.62]
Joshua Minsoo Kim: Released on New Year’s Day, “20/20” finds Lil Tjay at his most pensive. He channels the realistic, tempered expectations of entering into any new year. The piano — suffused with hope and weariness in equal measure — finds appropriate accompaniment in Lil Tjay’s battered crooning. He acknowledges the blessings and hardships, both just elements of a life that’ll only ever be fine. “20/20” is overlong but rightfully so; it has the feel of being endlessly lost in thought, of wishing such ruminating could substitute actual living.
[7]
Alfred Soto: He sounds like the kid he is, and the contrast between his anxiety-ridden verse and the generic trap beat is real: he treads on Quavo and Future’s turf, conscious that he ain’t there yet.
[6]
Tim de Reuse: The beat is as tired as the the adjusting-to-fame-but-also-bragging-about-it premise. Tjay pulls together a few sympathetic lines when he gets introspective enough about why he’s doing what he’s doing, but he would’ve needed many more than that to justify the cartoonishly sad piano tinkling along in the back.
[3]
Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Absolutely a standard piano trap midtempo number, without all that much in the way of stylistic variation. Yet there’s something compelling about Tjay’s warble, and the candor in his lines, that elevates “20/20.” “Jail kinda saved me” is the line that ties it all together — Tjay’s position is still a precarious one, and his whole performance transmits both a thankfulness for where he’s gotten and a fear that he won’t make it any further.
[6]
Julian Axelrod: Lil Tjay doesn’t have to make solemn, beautiful snowbound ballads like this. He has a beautifully creaky, almost prepubescent voice, the kind that sounds at home next to boy bands and actual boys. He could become a full-fledged pop star anytime he wants. But “20/20” finds a young man on the precipice of stardom grappling with fame: not just the newfound attention and potential pitfalls, but surreal mundanities like the politics of doing a guest verse. Tjay recedes so far into the beat you can barely hear him over the 808s. It almost sounds like the song happened to him and not the other way around, but he never lets it slip out of his grasp. This is the sound of a future superstar relishing his last moments of not having control.
[7]
Joshua Lu: The opening line sets “20/20” up as a boastful song, yet what follows is not standard rap bombast but instead introspection. Amongst Lil Tjay’s sprawling thoughts on his mother, his nascent success, and his desire to truly be the greatest lies the relatable fear that his impact is ephemeral, and that just being popular in the present guarantees little for the future. The song itself isn’t terribly enthralling, especially because of the boilerplate instrumental, but it’s enough to command your attention long enough for him to tell his story.
[6]
Edward Okulicz: The piano’s better without the trap, and so’s Lil Tjay — shorn of the actual beat, there’s something more pensive, more magnetic about his performance. Could have done with an edit in length as well as in mix.
[5]
Brad Shoup: Is there a plaintive piano bit he’s ever said no to? When he talks about being the greatest it’s poignant, like digging into a time capsule. There’s something in hearing him rap about becoming not being, but it kinda sounds like athletespeak.
[5]