It also transformed him from a student of the great storytelling rappers to a teacher. That’s clearest on “False Prophets,” released separately just before the album (it wasn’t included because it disrupted the narrative), which found Mr. Cole diagnosing the neuroses of his peers and heroes without naming them, though the internet filled in the blanks quickly.
Rappers rap about other rappers all the time — subliminal insult, direct attack — but rarely from a place of love. “That speaks to the state of us as a people,” he said. “For so long my mind state was, I have to show how much better than the next man I am through these bars. Who’s the best? Let me prove it. And it’s just like, damn, I’m really feeding into a cycle of keeping black people down, I’m really feeding into that.”
Mr. Cole knows that the disease of stardom inspires cries for help, and now, instead of judging from afar, he wonders, “There’s nobody around you to listen? There’s nobody listening?”
Listening is his new métier. The way Mr. Cole presents in his HBO special, which he directed with Scott Lazer, is primarily as observer, not actor. He returns to Jonesboro, Ark., where his father is from, and the two men visit a community center that serves as a makeshift museum of local black history. In another scene, in Ferguson, Mr. Cole watches as two men argue about government obstacles to black progress. Throughout the show, apart from when he’s rapping, Mr. Cole’s voice is barely heard, but his eyes are taking it all in.
“I felt like it would be mad powerful for black people to see black people talking to each other. And you see a rapper who’s considered one of the biggest in the game, just listening.”
He added, “These are people that never get to be heard, by the world or even by each other.”
That lack of representation, Mr. Cole said, can lead to potentially catastrophic misunderstandings. In March of last year, police raided the Sheltuh; Mr. Cole believes a neighbor was fearful it was a drug den. Security footage that captures the raid is used in the HBO special, showing dozens of heavily armed men forcibly entering the building only to find, well, nothing. (A ticket was issued for a small amount of marijuana found on the premises, he said.)
“I wrote six songs that weekend,” Mr. Cole noted wryly — they included the powerful “Neighbors,” from the new album.
After speaking for a couple of hours, Mr. Cole wandered back upstairs and chatted with a friend who’d recently spoken to a friendly neighbor, who took pains to note that she was not the one who had called the authorities. Mr. Cole, who prefers privacy, was frustrated that the locals had caught on to his presence. But he also saw it as an opportunity.
The HBO special was around the corner, and if his neighbors were inspired to watch it, “they’re going to listen to black people for a hour,” he said. “See how human they are, and see black men walk around with their daughters, and get a whole different perspective.”
“If I’m listening,” he said, “why can’t you listen?”
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/04/14/arts/music/j-cole-4-your-eyez-only-hbo-interview.html?_r=1
Rappers rap about other rappers all the time — subliminal insult, direct attack — but rarely from a place of love. “That speaks to the state of us as a people,” he said. “For so long my mind state was, I have to show how much better than the next man I am through these bars. Who’s the best? Let me prove it. And it’s just like, damn, I’m really feeding into a cycle of keeping black people down, I’m really feeding into that.”
Mr. Cole knows that the disease of stardom inspires cries for help, and now, instead of judging from afar, he wonders, “There’s nobody around you to listen? There’s nobody listening?”
Listening is his new métier. The way Mr. Cole presents in his HBO special, which he directed with Scott Lazer, is primarily as observer, not actor. He returns to Jonesboro, Ark., where his father is from, and the two men visit a community center that serves as a makeshift museum of local black history. In another scene, in Ferguson, Mr. Cole watches as two men argue about government obstacles to black progress. Throughout the show, apart from when he’s rapping, Mr. Cole’s voice is barely heard, but his eyes are taking it all in.
“I felt like it would be mad powerful for black people to see black people talking to each other. And you see a rapper who’s considered one of the biggest in the game, just listening.”
He added, “These are people that never get to be heard, by the world or even by each other.”
That lack of representation, Mr. Cole said, can lead to potentially catastrophic misunderstandings. In March of last year, police raided the Sheltuh; Mr. Cole believes a neighbor was fearful it was a drug den. Security footage that captures the raid is used in the HBO special, showing dozens of heavily armed men forcibly entering the building only to find, well, nothing. (A ticket was issued for a small amount of marijuana found on the premises, he said.)
“I wrote six songs that weekend,” Mr. Cole noted wryly — they included the powerful “Neighbors,” from the new album.
After speaking for a couple of hours, Mr. Cole wandered back upstairs and chatted with a friend who’d recently spoken to a friendly neighbor, who took pains to note that she was not the one who had called the authorities. Mr. Cole, who prefers privacy, was frustrated that the locals had caught on to his presence. But he also saw it as an opportunity.
The HBO special was around the corner, and if his neighbors were inspired to watch it, “they’re going to listen to black people for a hour,” he said. “See how human they are, and see black men walk around with their daughters, and get a whole different perspective.”
“If I’m listening,” he said, “why can’t you listen?”
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/04/14/arts/music/j-cole-4-your-eyez-only-hbo-interview.html?_r=1
