The Off-Season Review

 

    J. Cole’s The Off-Season was only announced ten days before its release but the amount of hype behind it was extraordinary and while we all know just how capable of an artist he is, I had an uneasy feeling about this project. The cover art for this album did not help in presenting it as a highly thematic or artistic record and the lead single, while layered with polished, jazzy sample chops and brooding with energy, did not do enough to dissuade me from these unnerving feelings. This energetic, lyrical bombardment of a project tends to come off as disingenuous at many turns, and though the production is backed by a roster of talented producers, the overall sonic textures and subliminal undertones provide for a frequent dose of messy, trap-inspired noise. The Off-Season is a decent project overall and has some great tracks to accompany it, but this pedestal that Cole raps from is tiring, emanating his self-proclaimed triumph and grandeur as if to say “I am the best,” which is clearly not true and makes for an experience mired in artificial, jaded soundscapes and an overall feeling reminiscent of too many of his contemporaries.

    J. Cole is a rappers rapper, the dudes got bars and his technical ability for wordplay and rhyming is unquestioned amongst its place with the best to ever do it. The basis of this title The Off Season is a reference to the time before the start of a new basketball season where players put in hours of effort and practice in an attempt to improve their abilities for more on-court success. For lack of a better theme, this idea of “honing his craft” is the overarching idea that envelops this record, admirable in its attempts but majorly flawed in regards to the record as a whole. The first example of this can be found on the opening track “9 5 . s o u t h.” the cut is jammed full of raucous energy and it clearly has some clever bars, but Cole sounds unfocused and his vocal performance is incredibly dull during the beginning. His precision and energy is fixed towards the middle and the end, but the percussion patterns combined with the triumphant synths in the background make for an ESPN primetime sports jingle that seems to say “hey its game time” and it is unmistakably corny. “1 0 0 . m i l’” is another track that falls victim to this mistaken need for grandeur and unnecessary need to reiterate his “grind.” The production is better on this cut with some vivid,  groovy chord arrangements followed by a synth serenely emanating in the background of the cut, yet still finds a way to be brought down by the generic, obnoxious mess that are the piercing hi-hats and the dull kicks. The lyrics and vocals are the main issue on this one, with some messy auto tune ruining Cole on the hook and cheap, painful lyrics about “100 mil and still being on my grind.” The average music consumer will most likely eat these tracks up, claiming that they are “really good” and that this record “must be doing numbers” however, an album characterized by vacuous hype-filled nonsense always sells and it sells to those who have a hard time realizing why some of these tracks are not acceptable for J. Cole’s artistic abilities.

    One of the main issues with this project is that when comparing some of the soundscapes and production tropes used on the record, it appears that this project isn’t as insular and unique as was his previous records like KOD or 4 Your Eyez Only. This isn’t to say that all the tracks sound exactly alike because that is certainly not the case. The crux of this argument is that some of the sonic textures, themes and overall listening experiences are mired in artificial and heavily synthesized elements. Take for example “a m a r i,” “m y . l i f e,” “t h e . c l i m b . b a c k” and “i n t e r l u d e.” The drum loops and overarching percussion arrangements are eerily similar in the way trap-like hi-hats attack the tracks and the rapid nature of the 808s, which seem almost indistinguishable from one another when isolated. Now of course these cuts can be separated by their chords, melodies, harmonies and other sonic qualities, as well as some of the sample chops, but if there were certain tracks that were difficult to tell apart it would be these. The same argument could be said about “a p p l y i n g . p r e s s u r e” or “p u n c h i n . t h e . c l o c k” which are two songs derivative of the boom bap style of rapping. These are easier to tell apart, but they also follow each other in the record and the tempos, rhythms and flow of Cole can meld these into confusion the more they are listened to in my opinion. Most of the tracks mentioned I still enjoy because the production is crisp and of the highest quality, followed by decent bars and adept flows from J. Cole. The main issue is that these cuts lack certain emotional textures and impact because they are devoid of meaningful sonic finishes, vivid chords and the heartfelt dedication that Cole has provided on past projects. This leads to minimal replay value and not much to take away and think on, as well as the album struggling to have many standout cuts. If your record is only meant to intensify and hype up a listener with marginal pay-off, it will crash and burn without a solid fundamental base other than the influence of “turn-up” trap and a barrage of rhyming accompanied by passable lyrics.

    Among the laughable and ridiculous basketball name drops as well as the uninspired, modern contemporary stylistic persuasions, tracks like “h u n g e r . o n . h i l l s i d e” are standout moments and serve to close the record in dramatic and spectacular fashion. Notice that the drums on here are not akin to anything on the record, as they are produced to focus on the gorgeous snare and cymbal sounds, which allows the cinematic, angelic string chords steeped in serenity to shine, not muddled by any crass 808s or grimacing hi-hats. This combination makes for a blissfully indulgent track where Cole actually leaves us with tearing emotions to fill our head and meaningful lyrics that carry weight such as "Can't be afraid of sunlight, Spotlights when it glows, All the pain you hold, Makes you worth your weight in gold." Lines like this that are intensely reflective and harbor great feelings of sorrow and healing were needed in great numbers to mend the blandness of this album. While most of the tracks on this record have energy and passion, this track has energy and passion in buckets, as well as a range of emotions and colorful feelings to catapult this track into an echelon of complexity and quality that we typically see on a project from J. Cole. This was the only track on The Off-Season that I thouroughly enjoyed and the only one that stands out when I think about the record as a whole, which is disappointing because many of these cuts are a few tweaks away from being complete and satisfying songs. This record wasn’t a complete failure; it had some likeable moments and should satisfy many J. Cole fans as well as the average consumer of music. The Off-Season does little to present a man refelcting on his status and titan-like nature in the rap game and mostly serves up boasts and stale takes on issues covered too much in music already. Rather than evoking a more lethal version of J. Cole, the record's descent is scarred by jaded, formulaic production on a majority of the songs and leaves a disappointing and forgettable impression when considering the rest of his discography and the complex epics he has penned in the past.

Score: 5/10