After a 12 year fast without a debut album from the ever-mysterious Jay Electronica, “A Written Testimony” has finally arrived. Mashallah. As assumed, the album is full of Islamic themes and perfectly articulated Muslim poetry. Electronica is a member of the Nation of Islam, as the album begins with a sermon from the honorable Luis Farrakhan: the national representative of the Nation of Islam of the great Elijah Mohammad. Intro tracks rarely exclude the artist, but the second song is when this album finds its footing. In what plays as a joint album with Jay Electronica and Jay Z, it is the latter who has the first real verse of the album. References of black exceptionalism stand out fruitfully in his marvelous flow, including King T’Challa of the fictional Black Haven Nation, Wakanda.
Following this, Hit Boy produces what will become the hit track on the album, featuring hums from Travis Scott. Electronica and Hov are rapping bar for bar, reflecting about black history and scripture, as Electronica raps he built his “temple like Solomon in the dessert.” Solomon’s temple held the Ark of the Covenant and is revered as one of the holiest sites in history. The poetry continues on the fourth track, “The Never-ending Story,” which in itself instills a history of Africans in the scope of world history. Jay Z speaks of the “stolen” Jesus with blue eyes that is prominent in white American churches. This is again a reference to the children of Egypt being the real chosen people, and Hov believes they were not white skinned with blue eyes, but Black Americans.
Then the album gets familiar. “Shiny Suit Theory” is the summation of all of the album’s themes: Islamic history, its association with black culture, its representation today, and flexing skill and wealth. “I thought you said it's the return of the black kings, luxurious homes, fur coats and fat chains.” Also, this is the rap song of the album. It was released 10 years ago and made the album, begging the question of why some of Electronica’s earlier cuts didn’t make it (Road to Perdition, any Exhibit track, or Dear Moleskin.) The one line from this song that represents Electronica’s entire discography (albeit short) is simple: “look how far I go in time just to start a rhyme.” The man is a historian as much as a rapper. The shift from song to song bouncing between Elijah Muhammad’s teachings in Arabic and Jay Z’s classic braggadocios bars reflect the two sides of this tape. While it’s been 40 days and 40 nights (and 12 years) of album creation, themes of self-reflection, anxiety, and hurt are more present than we have heard from Electronica (or even Jay Z) in the past. “Sometimes Xanny bars can’t fix the anxiety,” Electronica raps, and “Cry tears to my diary. Eyelids like levees [NOLA stand up] but my tear ducts like glaciers.” Emotional Jay is intriguing but unexpected. It is telling that the final song was recorded the night of the tragic death of Kobe Bryant, and is a song about forgetfulness and losing love ones. Most of his stand-alone tracks gave listeners bars after bars of symbolic poetry mixed with perfect flows and stunning punchlines.
This was the most anticipated release in years for an older generation of rap, and it gave us one undisputed truth: Jay Z still has bars. The man is 50 and slid over beats like it was 2014 over again. The risk of Electronica’s debut being a joint album with Jay Z was risky, but to them, perfect. “Debut with me and Hov is just like highway robbery.” It is true, it worked. But less than showcase what we have been missing from Electronica for over a decade, it reminded us that the King of Rap is still Jay Z, with no misunderstanding. Claims that he “started his own Easter” with the Roc Nation Brunches remind us that he has no qualms about flaunting his billions. “Why would I not have a watch like a Saudi Prince,” he raps over a masterfully remixed sample of Rihanna’s “Higher.” Who else can clear a Rihanna sample than Hova himself?
Jay Electronica continues his teachings of the honorable Elijah Muhammed, the Nation of Islam, and the state of Black America today. His rhymes are poetry, his rhyme schemes are complex, and he retains his status of one of the premier storytellers in the game. He finds contempt in being in the limelight, self-anxiety with scrutiny, but there is no disputing that he could have been running the game before this year, at 43. Let’s hope that, in his words and those of Paulo Cuehlo, he doesn’t “Do like Santiago, and turn into the wind,” once again.