Lights out, folks, the man says he’s done.
With the release of his newest double album, “The Fall-Off,” Jermaine “J.” Cole announced he’s concluding a nearly two-decade spanning career of music. And as far as his releases go, Cole has decided to end squarely in the middle of the road.
“The Fall-Off” is a whopper of a work, with its combined two discs clocking in at nearly two hours of artistry. The two segments, titled Disc 29 and Disc 39, respectively, have distinctly different feels.
Disc 29 is meant to chronicle Cole’s return to his hometown of Fayetteville, North Carolina, at the age of 29, running high off of his early success. Like his early work, Cole focuses on what made him great. Interspersing quick lyricism with slow, melodic lines, all thrown over excellent beats, Disc 29 is a thoughtful experience — one man’s reflection on a version of himself from nearly a decade ago.
Songs like “SAFETY” epitomize this reflection, with lines talking about a Fayetteville resident dying from AIDS after “runnin’ with fruity types.” The lyrics grow more homophobic, almost daring the listener to object, until Cole stops himself, saying, “Nah, time’s changed, I know that’s wrong / Now that we grown.”
The two-song combination of “Drum n Bass” and “The Let Out” chronicles Cole asking out a woman in a club, then nervously leaving and fearing violence on the way to his car, saying “Only God knows” if they’ll make it there safely.
Disc 39 is a different story entirely. It’s based on Cole’s experience once again visiting his hometown, but now as a 39-year-old, married with two children. The album is the same Cole, down to the subjects of his songs. Cole is emphatic on “Old Dog,” collaborating with fellow North Carolina native Petey Pablo to rap about his home state.
On Disc 39, Cole shifts to love. “Life Sentence” and “Only You” are dedicated to his wife, portraying his marriage as a lifelong commitment. Admirable, but tying a partnership to incarceration is a choice that implies little of the advertised self-reflection Cole claims to have undertaken.
Cole is undeniably in the upper crust of modern hip-hop. But as far as send-offs go, he falls short of his self-given title of “the greatest rapper of the century.” The album should serve as evidence that retirement isn’t his best choice. If he wants that title, he still has work to do.
