Category: Music

20. DOA (Death of Auto-Tune) (2009)

Strange to think there was a time when Auto-Tune was viewed as a controversial fad in hip-hop, the mark of lesser talents. It makes DOA something of a period piece. Still, you can’t deny the powerful ferocity of Jay-Z’s ire, nor the old-school crate-digging library music sample.

19. Dirt Off Your Shoulder (2003)

Peak-period out-there Timbaland production – minimal, funky, but psychedelic – inspires a lyric that prefaces Jay-Z’s “retirement” by claiming he is quitting because he has proved he is the greatest rapper alive. The video features a gesture later copied by Barack Obama, but it’s all about the beat and the beautifully framed boasts.

18. 4:44 (2017)

According to the producer, No ID, Jay-Z had to be forced into recording the title track of his response to the accusations of infidelity on Beyoncé’s Lemonade. The music was, he said, designed to “box him into telling that story”. The result is a racked mea culpa, vulnerable in a way Jay-Z had never been before.

17. I Just Wanna Love U (Give It 2 Me) (2000)

From peak-period Timbaland to peak-period Neptunes, complete with an uncredited vocal from Pharrell on the Rick James-indebted chorus. This was Jay-Z’s first No 1 on the US Hot R&B/Hip-Hop chart – and you can see why. There may be deeper songs in his oeuvre, but it’s unmatched as a party-starter.

16. Empire State of Mind (ft Alicia Keys) (2009)

Plenty of people have written paeans to New York, surely the most eulogised city in pop history, but coming up with something that became an unofficial anthem – up there with New York, New York – is another thing entirely. Empire State of Mind achieved it through an irresistible blend of grit and yearning splendour.

15. U Don’t Know (2001)

An amazing, overwhelming Just Blaze production – a head-turning cacophony made out of blaring synth fanfares, booming bass and an insanely sped-up Bobby Byrd sample – perfectly matches Jay-Z’s declaration of his imperious business sense: “Motherfucker, I … will … not … lose,” he declares. You don’t doubt it for a minute.

14. Can’t Knock the Hustle (ft Mary J Blige) (1996)

One rumour suggests Mary J Blige guested on Jay-Z’s debut album for old time’s sake: she dated Roc-A-Fella’s co-founder Damon Dash before she was famous. Her vocal is sublime, but Can’t Knock the Hustle’s most striking aspect might be Jay-Z’s sheer confidence on the mic as he bids goodbye to the streets.

13. Niggas In Paris (with Kanye West) (2011)

“This shit weird / We ain’t even ’posed to be here,” suggests Jay-Z during the pinnacle of his collaborative album with Kanye West, a depiction of the pair enjoying Paris fashion week. He suggests subsequently that, as black men, they are “supposed to be locked up”. The rhymes are crisp, the production – Kraftwerk-y synths, huge drums – superb.

12. Can I Live (1996)

A stunning study in contrasts, the sumptuous, slow-motion sound of Isaac Hayes’ The Look of Love up against Jay-Z’s anguished depiction of life dealing on the streets. The “tedious” repetition, paranoia, “hopelessness” and desperation – and the likelihood of early death suggested in the title – meant he wasn’t that different to the addicts he was serving.

11. Nigga What, Nigga Who (Originator 99) (ft Big Jaz) (1999)

Jay-Z perfected his craft rapping at high speed with his mentor Big Jaz; this is recalled on Nigga What, Nigga Who, which has the same rapid style and features a guest appearance from Big Jaz. Behind the desk, Timbaland comes up with a fabulously agitated, stop-start take on his late-90s style, only amplifying the power of their flow.

10. Big Pimpin’ (ft UGK) (1999)

The lyrics of Big Pimpin’ aren’t going to win any awards for their empathy towards women, something Jay-Z later acknowledged: “What kind of animal would say this sort of thing?” But the music is fabulous – Timbaland again, this time in Indian-flute mode – and UGK grab their guest verses with both pairs of hands.

9. D’Evils (1996)

The bleakest, darkest moment on Reasonable Doubt, a gloomy, gripping saga of murder and revenge exacted on a childhood friend – “we used to stay up all night at slumber parties”. D’Evils points to deprivation as the cause of crime, but it doesn’t do much to stem the self-loathing tone.

8. Heart of the City (Ain’t No Love) (2001)

Produced by West when he was still struggling to get his rap career off the ground, Heart of the City’s majestic sample from Bobby “Blue” Bland provoked an immediate, urgent response from Jay-Z: he recorded his rhyme – a riposte to haters that is weary yet blisteringly angry – in one unedited take.

7. Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem) (1998)

This was controversial on release – it was taken in some quarters as a shameless crack at pop success. But Hard Knock Life has outrun the novelty factor conveyed by its sample from the musical Annie, perhaps because Jay-Z’s rap is impressively tough: a flint-eyed examination of his rise to fame that served only to make him more famous.

6. Dead Presidents II (1996)

A sequel to the single Dead Presidents that swaps some of its bragging for a more nuanced examination of Jay-Z’s pre-fame life – including the shooting of a friend. The Lonnie Liston Smith electric piano sample is incongruously beautiful. The track also samples Nas, a borrowing that ultimately led to long-running enmity.

5. 99 Problems (2003)

Rick Rubin reanimates the rock-guitar-heavy sound he pioneered with Run DMC and the Beastie Boys, while Jay-Z explores the perils of dealing with racist police, offloads on critics and the hip-hop press (“fuckers”), suggests his enemies “wouldn’t bust a grape in a fruit fight” and quotes Ice-T on the earworm chorus.

4. Public Service Announcement (Interlude) (2003)

Don’t be fooled by the description in parenthesis, or the fact it was a last-minute addition to the Black Album: Public Serve Announcement is a highlight of Jay-Z’s oeuvre. Fired up by a contretemps with a journalist, he delivered a brilliant lyric split between swaggering assertion of his greatness and more complex self-examination.

3. Brooklyn’s Finest (ft The Notorious BIG) (1996)

The sound of one of hip-hop’s great what-ifs. Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls had plans to form a group – the Commission – that were scuppered by Biggie’s murder in 1997. Brooklyn’s Finest offers a thrilling glimpse of what might have been, the pair trading lines and continually ratcheting up the intensity.

2. Takeover (2001)

Jay-Z and West’s relationship has been turbulent, but they were never more in harmony than on this spectacular diss track. West’s beat turns the Doors’ Five to One into a relentless, growling menace; every lyrical punch thrown at Nas and Mobb Deep bruises in a way that suggests getting on Jay-Z’s bad side is a terrible idea.

1. Where I’m From (1997)

Sandwiched between his debut and the huge-selling Vol 2… Hard Knock Life, In My Lifetime, Vol 1 was slightly underwhelming as million-selling albums go, its production flashy, its lunges for pop success a little too obvious. But its penultimate track is something else, something you would turn to if you wanted to explain Jay-Z’s greatness as a rapper. His compelling depiction of life in Brooklyn’s Marcy Projects feels completely realistic. He sounds horrified by the day-to-day bleakness – “life expectancy so low we making out wills at 18” – but also affectionately nostalgic and defiantly proud.

With no fully staged, large-scale opera production at this year’s Edinburgh International festival, this concert performance of Wagner’s Tannhäuser had been eagerly anticipated. Its fantastical and elaborate plot make it a tricky work to bring coherence to in a semi-staging, but Sir Donald Runnicles and Deutsche Oper didn’t disappoint.

The young knight Tannhäuser is torn between the carnal allure of the goddess Venus and his longing for the pious Elisabeth. After disgracing himself by singing in praise of Venus at a song contest, he is exiled to Rome to plead for absolution. On his return, he tells how he was rejected by the pope, who informed him that he would only be forgiven when green leaves grow from the papal staff. Heartbroken, he finds his beloved Elisabeth has died praying for his salvation, only to learn from a group of pilgrims that the pope’s crosier has, in fact, sprouted leaves. Wagner went to great lengths to stress that Tannhäuser was not a morality tale, and the opera’s imperatives are notoriously ambiguous.

Making his role debut as Tannhäuser was the American tenor Clay Hilley, whose bright and robust voice is made for its technical demands. Hilley sang with zeal and commitment; it was only slightly disappointing that he was the only singer requiring a score, which lessened the immersive quality of the drama at certain points.

The other soloists were equally impressive, despite apparently having been held up en route to Edinburgh and so performing on only four hours’ sleep. As Wolfram, the US baritone Thomas Lehman (one of the Deutsche Oper’s ensemble members) brought an understated emotional sincerity to the role with a light but rich timbre, effortlessly filling the Usher Hall.

Festival-favourite Emma Bell was superb as Elisabeth, capturing both the divine and vulnerable aspects of her character. Her voice soared effortlessly above the orchestra with a celestial intensity. Irene Roberts, singing Venus, was almost as irresistible, with a suitably beguiling tone.

Under the baton of Runnicles, orchestra and chorus brought Wagner’s score (here the opera’s earlier Dresden version with the addition of the Paris Bacchanale) to life, articulating a huge dynamic range from hushed pianissimos to supernatural fortissimos, and painting a soundworld that went a long way in making up for the lack of staging.

The gospel troupe’s latest album is named after the radio show that first booked them, way back in 1944. The Boys, from the Alabama Institute for the Negro Deaf and Blind, modelled themselves on black groups such as the Golden Gate Quartet, but under the south’s Jim Crow laws they were bizarrely allowed to sing only white gospel. From this modest beginning the group’s ever changing roster has come to embody gospel and its spirit of perseverance and sanctity for a global audience, helped by star-laden collaborations and inspired cover versions (Waits, Dylan, Stones). Here the focus is on tradition; the whooping, frenetic Send It On Down and Nothing But Love, the testimony of You Can’t Hurry God. The voices – rich and grained, with the occasional surprising falsetto – are backed by a minimalist four-piece that adds a 1940s swing to Work Until My Days Are Done. There’s a moving, ruminative cover of Friendship, made famous by Pops Staples, while Curtis Mayfield’s Keep On Pushin’, a piece of c ivil rights optimism, is here slowed to stubborn resistance; such are the times. That two members of the group have died since recording adds poignancy to The Last Time (We’ll Sing Together), but the Boys endure.

Ten days ago, Sakari Oramo took over a BBC Symphony Orchestra concert at short notice to conduct Mahler’s Seventh Symphony. But his major Mahler commitment with the BBCSO at this summer’s Proms was always going to be an even more massive symphony, the Third, a performance that also involved the upper voices of the BBC Symphony Chorus, the Trinity Boys Choir and the mezzo-soprano Jenny Carlstedt.

By their sheer scale alone, performances of Mahler’s Third are always special events; some of those, conducted by Claudio Abbado (twice) and Bernard Haitink, rank among the most memorable concerts I’ve been lucky enough to attend. Fine as it was, Oramo’s account didn’t quite come into that special category, lacking Abbado’s ecstatic intensity and Haitink’s epic sweep, but it was impressive in its own right, superbly played by the BBCSO, with the brass in particular outstanding, though the vagaries of the Albert Hall acoustics, with a few new eccentricities apparently added this year, were sometimes distracting.

Coming in at around 95 minutes in a work that can easily last over 100, Oramo’s performance was on the swift side. But nothing ever seemed rushed or forced, though there was a real snarl and snap to the martial episodes of the huge first movement. The dreamy post horn solos that interrupt the third-movement scherzo were given plenty of space, while the cool-toned Carlstedt was allowed to make the Nietzsche setting of the fourth a moment of wondering reflection; the great paragraphs of the finale, part hymn, part apotheosis, were unfolded with unwavering certainty.

After the Mahler there was something that has become too much of a rarity under the current Proms regime, a late-night programme of smaller-scale contemporary music. This one was given by the Manchester Collective, who presented a typically eclectic sequence of pieces. It began with two works combining electronic and pre-recorded sounds, Hannah Peel’s shimmering Neon and Ben Nobuto’s joyously witty and bewilderingly discursive SERENITY 2.0, and then contrasted Oliver Leith’s quirky string arrangement of a 17th-century fantasy by Matthew Locke and the seventh of David Lang’s fragile solo-violin Mystery Sonatas, beautifully played by Rakhi Singh, with Steve Reich’s Double Sextet, in which the six members of the collective were paired with pre-recorded versions of themselves. A wonderful contrast in every respect to the great symphony before it.

Billy Bragg has released a response song to US country singer Oliver Anthony’s viral hit Rich Men North of Richmond.

The Virginian’s song, which purports to be about workers’ rights, has clocked up nearly 30m views in 12 days after supposedly being discovered and promoted by a local radio station. It has found favour amid conservative politicians and commentators, who have wielded it as a cudgel in the culture wars.

Critics, meanwhile, have noted its individualist streak: Anthony perpetuates the myth of welfare scroungers, questions why his taxes should pay for healthcare issues related to obesity, amplifies conspiracy theories about paedophiles (“I wish politicians would look out for miners / And not just minors on an island somewhere”) and suggests that the US “kickin’” down “young men” is responsible for a suicide epidemic.

Anthony has since stated: “I sit pretty dead centre on politics” and declined requests for interviews.

Bragg titled his response song Rich Men Earning North of a Million. In a video introduction, the British songwriter and labour rights advocate said: “Since I saw that clip of Oliver Anthony singing his song Rich Men North of Richmond, the ghost of Woody Guthrie has been whispering in my ear. ‘Help that guy out,’ Woody keeps telling me. ‘Let him know there’s a way to deal with those problems he’s singing about.’ So today I sat down and wrote this response to Mr Anthony’s song, for people like him and people like you.”

Bragg’s song advocates taking action and joining a union, and rewrites lines from Anthony’s song. The original first verse went:

I’ve been sellin’ my soul, workin’ all day
Overtime hours for bullshit pay
So I can sit out here and waste my life away
Drag back home and drown my troubles away

Bragg’s rewrite runs:

If you’re selling your soul, working all day
Overtime hours for bullshit pay
Nothing is gonna change if all you do is wish you could wake up and it not be true
Join a union
Fight for better pay
You better join a union, brother
Organise today

Bragg’s song goes on to posit unions as the way for workers to create problems for the “rich men earning north of a million”, and denounces Anthony’s individualist politics: “So, we ain’t gonna punch down on those who need a bit of understanding and some solidarity,” he sings. “That ain’t right, friends.”

He takes Anthony’s comments about obesity to task, reframing them within the context of the US healthcare crisis: “If you’re struggling with your health and you’re putting on the pounds / Doctor gives you opioids to help you get around,” he sings. “Wouldn’t it be better for folks like you and me if medicine was subsidised and medicine was free? / Join a union.”

Bragg concludes by addressing Anthony directly:

Know your culture wars are there to distract while libertarian billionaires avoid paying tax
You want to talk about bathrooms while the flood waters rise, the forest is on fire
They want to divide us because together we’re strong
Are you gonna take action now you sung your damn song?
You don’t like the rich man having total control
You better get the union to roll

The success of Anthony’s song comes in the wake of Jason Aldean’s Try That in a Small Town, released in May. Another intentionally divisive country song, it hit No 1 in the US in August and caused controversy for its suggestion that “good old boy” Americans take justice into their own hands, warning anti-police, anti-patriotic individuals against bringing their politics to a small town “full of good ol’ boys, raised up right”.

The video, released in July, featured images of masked Black Lives Matter protesters, molotov cocktails and a burning US flag, and featured scenes filmed in front of a Tennessee courthouse where a white mob lynched a young Black man, Henry Choate, in 1927. It was pulled from Country Music Television days after its release.

Aldean responded that the song had nothing to do with race: “In the past 24 hours I have been accused of releasing a pro-lynching song (a song that has been out since May) and was subject to the comparison that I (direct quote) was not too pleased with the nationwide BLM protests,” he tweeted. “These references are not only meritless, but dangerous.”

“Try That in a Small Town, for me,” he continued, “refers to the feeling of a community that I had growing up, where we took care of our neighbours, regardless of differences of background or belief.”

In response to Aldean’s post, country star Sheryl Crow tweeted: “I’m from a small town. Even people in small towns are sick of violence. There’s nothing small-town or American about promoting violence … This is not American or small-town-like. It’s just lame.”