On Feb. 6, J. Cole released his seventh and final album, “The Fall-Off.” This double-disc project is a self-reflection of Cole’s life and career as a prominent rapper in the music industry.
The first disc, “Disc 29,” is told from the perspective of a younger J. Cole. “29 Intro” starts with a sample of “Carolina in My Mind” by James Taylor, and an audio of people laughing and conversing overlaid on top of it, before everything is cut short by the sound of gunshots. This sets the tone for “Disc 29” as one of both nostalgia and pain. Reflecting on Cole’s upbringing in Fayetteville, N.C. “Disc 29” continues to be a roller coaster of emotions, from deep-rooted hurt and anger in songs like “Two Six,” to mournful songs like “SAFETY” and “Run A Train.”
Production-wise, this part of the album feels almost retro — especially “SAFETY” — referencing Cole’s earlier style as well as the early days of rap. Thematically, Cole is reliving his younger years, criticizing himself and his surroundings. This is seen especially in “Poor Thang,” where he describes the difficulty of growing up around gang violence and how that shaped his young mind, talking to himself about how he put up a front until he found an outlet in music.
Towards the end of “Disc 29,” the music starts to feel a bit more modern, symbolizing how Cole is growing up throughout the album. The last two songs close the first half of the album by expressing his future desires. “Bombs in the Ville/Hit the Gas” discusses Cole’s growing family and how he wants to put more time aside to be a present father for his sons, while “Lonely at the Top” is an ode to his predecessors in the rap game.
“Disc 39” is arguably the stronger of the double discs. “39 Intro” is full of classic bravado; Cole posits himself as one of the best — if not the best — in the game, even referring to himself as “the half-Black messiah.” “The Fall-Off is Inevitable” is an interesting autobiography of Cole’s life told in reverse. He starts from his own funeral, where he imagines his grandchildren carrying his coffin to the altar where his body will be displayed, before eventually ending at the moment of his birth when his mother named him.
There is a distinctive difference in maturity between the two discs. Cole plays the role of the young, brash, fresh-faced rapper well in “Disc 29,” but he truly shines in “Disc 39,” where he sounds more authentic and grounded. He explains his reasons for retiring from music in this section, citing his family in “Life Sentence” and “Only You,” and his disconnection from the newer generation of rappers making a name for themselves.
The album reaches a powerful climax on “Quik Stop.” Cole depicts a routine day, stuck in the loop of making music and chasing vices, until he is interrupted by a fan at a gas station who reveals how Cole’s music helped him change his life. “Quik Stop” demonstrates the power of music to transform someone’s life.
“Ocean Way” closes “Disc 39” on a melancholic note. This decision reflects a general tone that wove through each of the songs on the album. While it may not be his strongest body of work, it is still masterfully crafted, flowing cohesively and incorporating J. Cole’s best skill: his ability to take the listener along a journey through his expert lyricism.
Ultimately, J. Cole’s exit from the music world is one made with great difficulty for the artist, but he has decided to focus on himself, his family and love.
