Jay-Z, Michael Jordan, and Unretiring
The Black Album is my favorite Jay-Z album and one of my favorite rap albums of all time. In fact, analyzing this album is one of the original reasons why I wanted to start a music blog. I'm not entirely sure why, but something about this album stimulates the critical portion of my brain. One of the reasons why this album is so ripe for analysis is because of its underlying concept as Jay-Z's farewell to rap.
Like most rappers, Jay-Z's favorite subject throughout his career has been himself. His songs are so full of auto-biographical details that even casual fans can tell his life story (or at least the life story he wants to present to the public), and this supposed final album is the perfect summation of that narrative. Of course, this artistic statement ultimately was not an accurate depiction of his career path, and his short-lived retirement drew the inevitable comparisons to Michael Jordan, the Patron Saint of Unretirement (though Brett Farve could also lay claim to that designation). Though the comparisons are apt, there is a critical distinction to be made between each man's botched attempt at retirement: Jay-Z's should-have-been-final-statement retains a greater semblance of its aura and significance than Jordan's specifically because it was an artistic statement rather than an athletic one.
One of the unique aspects of the public's relationship with sports is the way in which everything is viewed in context of how it fits into the larger continuity of sports history. Carlton Fisk's home run was a great moment, but because his team ultimately lost the Series that year, the moment is still remembered as a part of the Red Sox's 86-year World Series drought. And when the Sox finally won in 2004, the demons from those cursed years were exorcised in a way the redefined the way fans remembered those experiences. John Elway's early career failures were rendered insignificant when he won two Super Bowls at the end of his career. Dan Marino's individual greatness, including his record setting 1984 season, has been overshadowed by the fact that he never won a Super Bowl. And great players like Roberto Alomar and Scottie Pippen can have their hall of fame careers diminished in the eyes of many fans due to relatively insignificant incidents. Every career, season, game, and moment is inextricably a part of the history of that particular player, team, city and sport.
This is an important part of the experience of being a sports fan. Every victory is more exciting and every loss is more devastating because of the added magnitude of that game's historical context. When Cal lost to Oregon State in 2007 on Kevin Riley's stupid fucking scramble, it hurt so much more specifically because it cost the Bears the number one ranking and a real shot at their first Rose Bowl since 1959. And everyone in the stadium was aware of the historical significance of the loss as it was happening (trust me, I was at the game. I don't want to talk about it). Because every event is inseparable from its place in the historical continuity of sports, Michael Jordan's final shot with the Bulls can never be truly viewed on its own merit, untarnished by his later decision to return to the NBA with the Wizards.
The totality of his career and the history of the teams for and against whom he played are inextricably a part of the significance of each moment of his career. In fact, it is because of this connection with history that his final shot seemed so important in the first place. It was a perfect end to the career of the greatest player in the history of the NBA and it was how everyone (save Utah Jazz fans) wanted to see him finish. He was going out on top with a historically significant, aesthetically pleasing, brilliant, memorable sequence of plays (remember, he stole the ball from Malone on the other end before he hit the shot). But because this wasn't actually his final shot, the moment is diminished. It's still significant (after all, it sealed his 6th title) and memorable, but it is much less than it could have been, than it should have been. But while an athletic achievement cannot be viewed entirely in its own context, separate from history, an artistic one can.
Perhaps the key difference between The Black Album and Michael Jordan's final shot with the Bulls, for the pursposes of this discussion, is the fact that The Black Album is an object and Jordan's final shot was an event. The Black Album was something that Jay-Z and his associates created and presented to the public to be experienced, whereas Jordan's shot was an occurrence that was experienced by the public as it happened. Because an album's significance is not beholden to a particular moment in time, it is free from the type of historical weight that affects a sporting event. That's not to say that an album doesn't exist within the fabric of history. In fact, it functions within the context of multiple historical narratives. It exists within the history of its production, the history of the artist's career, the history of music in general, the history of its reception by critics and the public, the history of its distribution to the public, etc. A sporting event also exists within multiple histories (newspaper articles about the event, people re-watching it years later, people telling stories about it, etc.), but all of those are subservient to the dominant history of the event as it originally occurred, which, as I previously demonstrated, is indelibly linked to the dominant history of sports overall. An album, because it doesn't have a single, authentic occurrence within temporal history, doesn't have a single dominant history in the way that sports does. In fact, I would argue that the most important historical narrative for an album is the one created each time a person listens to it.
Because the most important context for an album is each individual experience of a person or people listening to it, it is significantly easier and more appropriate to evaluate it on its own merits than it is to do the same with a sporting event. Jay-Z's retirement statement, however temporary, still retains some of its value and significance because it can be viewed in its own context, as experienced each time someone listens to the album. Whereas Jordan's final shot was actually his final moment as a player until he unretired, The Black Album is not Jay-Z's final experience as a rapper, but rather an account of of it. An experience cannot be separated from its historical context and viewed on its own merits, but a representation of an experience is intrinsically separated from the historical event itself. Yeah, Jay-Z didn't actually stay retired for very long, and yeah, that does diminish the significance of the album a bit. But because it is a (reproducible) work of art that is separate from a single occurrence, it can still be viewed within the context it creates for itself.
Jay-Z actually makes the Jordan/unretirement connection himself on the song "Encore", discussing when he'll "come back like Jordan, wearin' the 4-5." Of course, Hov's subsequent comeback was much more like Jordan's second unretirement, with the Wizards, than his first, with the Bulls. Both comebacks had their high points but were ultimately disappointing experiences. And while both of these unfortunate unretirements diminish the luster of each man's respective career's, they do not equally exert the same negative effect on what should have been their final moments. Jordan's moment cannot exist in a vacuum, whereas Jay-Z's can, somewhat. Any creative object, whether it's fiction, non-fiction, or something in-between (like Jay-Z's exaggerated account of his life), is a representation of something (an event, an idea, etc.), whereas a sporting event is always the experience itself. Because as a representation of something rather than the thing itself, an album's narrative is intrinsically somewhat false, and therefore not as affected by the actual events surrounding it as Jordan's final shot.
Like most rappers, Jay-Z's favorite subject throughout his career has been himself. His songs are so full of auto-biographical details that even casual fans can tell his life story (or at least the life story he wants to present to the public), and this supposed final album is the perfect summation of that narrative. Of course, this artistic statement ultimately was not an accurate depiction of his career path, and his short-lived retirement drew the inevitable comparisons to Michael Jordan, the Patron Saint of Unretirement (though Brett Farve could also lay claim to that designation). Though the comparisons are apt, there is a critical distinction to be made between each man's botched attempt at retirement: Jay-Z's should-have-been-final-statement retains a greater semblance of its aura and significance than Jordan's specifically because it was an artistic statement rather than an athletic one.
One of the unique aspects of the public's relationship with sports is the way in which everything is viewed in context of how it fits into the larger continuity of sports history. Carlton Fisk's home run was a great moment, but because his team ultimately lost the Series that year, the moment is still remembered as a part of the Red Sox's 86-year World Series drought. And when the Sox finally won in 2004, the demons from those cursed years were exorcised in a way the redefined the way fans remembered those experiences. John Elway's early career failures were rendered insignificant when he won two Super Bowls at the end of his career. Dan Marino's individual greatness, including his record setting 1984 season, has been overshadowed by the fact that he never won a Super Bowl. And great players like Roberto Alomar and Scottie Pippen can have their hall of fame careers diminished in the eyes of many fans due to relatively insignificant incidents. Every career, season, game, and moment is inextricably a part of the history of that particular player, team, city and sport.
This is an important part of the experience of being a sports fan. Every victory is more exciting and every loss is more devastating because of the added magnitude of that game's historical context. When Cal lost to Oregon State in 2007 on Kevin Riley's stupid fucking scramble, it hurt so much more specifically because it cost the Bears the number one ranking and a real shot at their first Rose Bowl since 1959. And everyone in the stadium was aware of the historical significance of the loss as it was happening (trust me, I was at the game. I don't want to talk about it). Because every event is inseparable from its place in the historical continuity of sports, Michael Jordan's final shot with the Bulls can never be truly viewed on its own merit, untarnished by his later decision to return to the NBA with the Wizards.
The totality of his career and the history of the teams for and against whom he played are inextricably a part of the significance of each moment of his career. In fact, it is because of this connection with history that his final shot seemed so important in the first place. It was a perfect end to the career of the greatest player in the history of the NBA and it was how everyone (save Utah Jazz fans) wanted to see him finish. He was going out on top with a historically significant, aesthetically pleasing, brilliant, memorable sequence of plays (remember, he stole the ball from Malone on the other end before he hit the shot). But because this wasn't actually his final shot, the moment is diminished. It's still significant (after all, it sealed his 6th title) and memorable, but it is much less than it could have been, than it should have been. But while an athletic achievement cannot be viewed entirely in its own context, separate from history, an artistic one can.
Perhaps the key difference between The Black Album and Michael Jordan's final shot with the Bulls, for the pursposes of this discussion, is the fact that The Black Album is an object and Jordan's final shot was an event. The Black Album was something that Jay-Z and his associates created and presented to the public to be experienced, whereas Jordan's shot was an occurrence that was experienced by the public as it happened. Because an album's significance is not beholden to a particular moment in time, it is free from the type of historical weight that affects a sporting event. That's not to say that an album doesn't exist within the fabric of history. In fact, it functions within the context of multiple historical narratives. It exists within the history of its production, the history of the artist's career, the history of music in general, the history of its reception by critics and the public, the history of its distribution to the public, etc. A sporting event also exists within multiple histories (newspaper articles about the event, people re-watching it years later, people telling stories about it, etc.), but all of those are subservient to the dominant history of the event as it originally occurred, which, as I previously demonstrated, is indelibly linked to the dominant history of sports overall. An album, because it doesn't have a single, authentic occurrence within temporal history, doesn't have a single dominant history in the way that sports does. In fact, I would argue that the most important historical narrative for an album is the one created each time a person listens to it.
Because the most important context for an album is each individual experience of a person or people listening to it, it is significantly easier and more appropriate to evaluate it on its own merits than it is to do the same with a sporting event. Jay-Z's retirement statement, however temporary, still retains some of its value and significance because it can be viewed in its own context, as experienced each time someone listens to the album. Whereas Jordan's final shot was actually his final moment as a player until he unretired, The Black Album is not Jay-Z's final experience as a rapper, but rather an account of of it. An experience cannot be separated from its historical context and viewed on its own merits, but a representation of an experience is intrinsically separated from the historical event itself. Yeah, Jay-Z didn't actually stay retired for very long, and yeah, that does diminish the significance of the album a bit. But because it is a (reproducible) work of art that is separate from a single occurrence, it can still be viewed within the context it creates for itself.
Jay-Z actually makes the Jordan/unretirement connection himself on the song "Encore", discussing when he'll "come back like Jordan, wearin' the 4-5." Of course, Hov's subsequent comeback was much more like Jordan's second unretirement, with the Wizards, than his first, with the Bulls. Both comebacks had their high points but were ultimately disappointing experiences. And while both of these unfortunate unretirements diminish the luster of each man's respective career's, they do not equally exert the same negative effect on what should have been their final moments. Jordan's moment cannot exist in a vacuum, whereas Jay-Z's can, somewhat. Any creative object, whether it's fiction, non-fiction, or something in-between (like Jay-Z's exaggerated account of his life), is a representation of something (an event, an idea, etc.), whereas a sporting event is always the experience itself. Because as a representation of something rather than the thing itself, an album's narrative is intrinsically somewhat false, and therefore not as affected by the actual events surrounding it as Jordan's final shot.
Labels: basketball, favorite albums 2000-2009, Jay-Z, Michael Jordan, music, sports, The Black Album
posted by Carlos Animals at 12:20 AM
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