A Written Testimony, Mike

A Written Testimony. Fascinating? Yes. Good? Maybe. Going on the playlist? Probably not.

From the vaporware legend that is "Jay Electronica," to sampling accordion-laden and kaleidoscope-evoking late-'60s/early-'70s lounge music, to unleashing Jay-Z's thoughts on race politics on the eve of the pandemic, I went into this album ready to be entertained and, potentially, enlightened.

Certain themes hit right out of the gate: Throwing off the yoke of your slavers' religion, laying claim to hard-won cultural touchstones ("My ancestors took old food, made soul food, Jim Crow's a troll too, he stole the soul music"), and steadily insisting that Jay-Z never sold out—he's just playing 3D-chess with U.S. history ("No civilization is conquered from the outside until it destroys itself from within... Think of things I said that you hated then, Empirical facts that can't be debated now, Things you say today, I was sayin' then").

I also enjoyed the contrast between Jay-Z's usual bravado and Jay Electronica's more high-brow flexing, requiring far more Google searches per bar. However, Jay E's verses quickly get too self-congratulatory. He pats himself on the back for being so open-minded ("Listen to everything from a lecture, From the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan, To Serge Gainsbourg or Madonna or a podcast on piranhas") and for going on his infamous hip-hop vision quest ("I spent many nights bent off Woodford, Clutchin' the bowl, stuffin' my nose... The true history of Jesus comin' to age, I wore a ski mask and glove to the masquerade").

But Jay Electronica is 44. By that age, Jay-Z had already bookended a successful career dealing drugs, released Reasonable Doubt, The Blueprint, and Watch the Throne (among others), branched out into fashion, food/beverage, video games, and started a sports agency. He earned some bragging rights.

In contrast, Jay Electronica's self-written lore seems forced. The transition from private-school teenager (albeit living in a New Orleans project), to sometimes-lover of Erykah Badu and Kate Emma Rothschild, to world-traveling troubadour, just isn't compelling in the same way. That is probably because the process happened behind closed doors (that Electronica seems determined to never open for his listeners—although THAT would be interesting).  

Also off putting are the unironic references to multiple groups with Southern Poverty Law Center entries. Perhaps I'm just fatigued from batshit-insane conspiracy theories plaguing real-world events, but I couldn't get past the mutual Jays' endorsement of 5% Nation and some of the more far-out Hebrew Israelite ideology. It was like seeing Tom Cruise drop a Scientology pamphlet in the middle of a Mission Impossible stunt. I started second-guessing every line, which just isn't a way to enjoy an album.

Ultimately, the album felt a bit like Pitchfork-bait.  It's current, edgy-enough, and certainly not risk-averse (ending with the tear-jerker "A.P.I.D.T.A.," which I do find myself thinking about). "The Blinding" and "Flux Capacitor" are both worth bumping in the car.  Overall: 3.5/5 Slivs