The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
6D — Fall 2018
Ever since “‘03 Bonnie &
Clyde,” Jay-Z and Beyoncé have
wanted you to know two things
about their relationship: they’re
in love and they’re rich. For
years that’s the most they’ve
cared to divulge. They kept
their 2008 wedding as hush-
hush as possible and would
almost never be caught publicly
without sunglasses — Jay often
opted to cover his eyes while
they sat courtside at indoor
NBA games. They popped up
here and there as if to bless
us with their public presence,
but that exterior appearance
was all us normal people got to
witness.
It wasn’t until 2016, with the
release of Beyoncé’s creative
opus Lemonade, that cracks in
the perfect marble sculpture
of the Carters became visible.
Bey not only touched on the
social and political nature of
Black love, but the personal
as well; she was on a quest for
self-knowledge in the face of
infidelity. That infidelity, Jay-
Z’s alone, was nothing but
a tabloid rumor for a couple
years
but
made
headlines
with
Lemonade
and
was
only further made concrete
when 4:44 arrived in 2017.
With
4:44,
Jay-Z
brought
his flaws to the forefront,
admitting his guilt and asking
for forgiveness. Who knows
what happened between the
two superstars behind closed
doors, but it seems to them
the highest form of therapy is
making music together. And
with the unannounced drop of
EVERYTHING IS LOVE, this
unorthodox trilogy of healing
has its final act.
EVERYTHING
IS
LOVE
represents
a
synthesis
of
Beyoncé’s perfect pop formula
and Jay-Z’s classical brand of
rap, but instead of being the
lavish pairing we have come
to expect, it comes across as a
controlled mess. The couple’s
undying love is at the center of
the album, but the music itself
has no heart — there’s no sonic
flow as the tracklist jumps
from a sexy string symphony
to trap-inspired synth banger
or songs that sound less like
collaborations and more like
Magna Carta Holy Grail or 4
leftovers.
If anything, one of the few
consistent musical takeaways
from the album is that Beyoncé
has cemented herself as a good
rapper, sometimes outshining
Jay-Z in terms of technical
ability. She borrows the triplet
flow on “APESHIT,” trades bars
with Pharrell on “NICE” and
poetically chides her husband
on “LOVEHAPPY.” “You fucked
up the first stone, we had to get
remarried,” raps Bey, almost
certainly looking at Jay dead
in the eyes in the booth. In this
way, EVERYTHING IS LOVE
comes across as Beyoncé album
that happens to feature Jay-Z
on every track, as he functions
more as afterthought than equal
collaborator. His contributions
are fewer and further between
than those of his wife, and his
verses occupy the portions of
any given instrumental at its
barest; Beyoncé is backed by
a soulful chorus on “BOSS”
while Jay-Z is left to work with
snare drums and a singular
background
vocalist.
When
Jay-Z flips off the NFL and
tells them “You need me, I don’t
need you” on “APESHIT,” it’s
almost if Beyoncé could say the
same to her husband himself.
There’s something off about
this new version of Beyoncé,
though, as she brags about
Lamborghinis
and
Patek
Philippe watches on a verse
clearly written by Offset of
the Migos (him and Quavo
lend their ad-libbing talent
to “APESHIT”), and her flow
perfectly matches Pharrell’s on
“NICE,” leaving you wondering
if he just didn’t give her half of
his verse. In fact, there’s this
whole manufactured quality
of EVERYTHING IS LOVE
that
makes
this
meditative
masquerade sound artificial.
Each
song
rests
on
the
shoulders of a veritable army of
songwriters and producers: Ty
Dolla $ign, Cool & Dre and Boi-
1da, to name a few.
Beyoncé and Jay-Z are so in
control of their public images
that it should come as no
surprise they recruited such
talent to bring this album to life.
However, facts like that make
this celebration of their love
seem hollow. The convenient
rollout of EVERYTHING IS
LOVE and the two preceding
solo albums, along with the
On the Run II Tour, makes
the inner conspiracy theorist
in me wonder if the whole
saga of Jay-Z’s affair (except
Solange whooping Jay’s ass
in an elevator) was nothing
more than a carefully crafted
publicity stunt to drive album
sales and Tidal subscriptions.
Ironically, the best moments
of EVERYTHING IS LOVE
comes when it relaxes its precise
focus on the power couple.
Album
highlight
“BLACK
EFFECT” is a love letter to their
own Blackness and acceptance
of the symbolic power they
have
in
their
community.
Jay-Z aims to uplift, shouting
out “I’m good on any MLK
Boulevard” and demonstrating
the power of unity. The video
for “APESHIT” is similarly
empowering; the two have the
fuck-you money to rent out
the Louvre for one night and
use it as their personal artistic
playground,
juxtaposing
successful Black artists like
themselves and their team of
dancers with perhaps the most
recognizable
collection
of
white art on the planet. Jay-Z
props himself before The Raft
of the Medusa, a rarity among
famous paintings as a Black
man is at the pinnacle of the
composition,
while
Beyoncé
dances in front of the Mona
Lisa and Winged Victory of
Samothrace, placing herself as
the new ideal of beauty among
those classical notions.
Yet,
without
the
visuals
for “APESHIT,” the song is
nothing more than an elevated
trap anthem, as the lyrics give
no hint of its take on high
art. And this identity crisis is
representative of the whole
album itself: While it attempts
to shape Jay-Z and Beyoncé’s
love,
success
and
passion
into a jubilant meditation on
Black excellence, it celebrates
Carter
excellence
instead.
Albeit
tastefully
opulent,
EVERYTHING IS LOVE can’t
shake its extravagant vanity.
SONY
‘Everything is Love’ is
excessive without purpose
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
ROBERT MANSUETTI
Summer Senior Arts Editor
The
thing
you
need
to
know about Shawn Mendes
is that he was a Vine kid.
More
importantly,
he
was
one of those Vine kids who
didn’t use the platform for
tormenting
unsuspecting
parents or siblings, but rather
used it mostly for showcasing
musical talents that would have
otherwise
remained
hidden.
Armed with an acoustic guitar
and a wide smile, Mendes
would post short clips of him
covering various Ed Sheeran,
One Direction and 5 Seconds
of Summer songs (and even a
Beyoncé track thrown in here
and there). His rise to fame
started here, under the pastel
green curl of Vine’s logo, vocals
restricted to bite-sized, five-
second long segments.
It’s a shallow personability
that has remained constant
throughout his music, even as
Mendes stepped away from
Vine,
entered
into
record
contracts and started releasing
original albums. His songs lack
substance, depth or dynamism,
instead just minute variations
on the same easily-consumable,
bred-for-radio sound that has
been
recycled
throughout
generations of generic pop stars
from Ed Sheeran to Charlie
Puth. And it isn’t a bad sound
— catchy hooks and predictable
melodies
are
easy
to
sing
along to when you’re stuck in
bad traffic — but it’s one that
lacks originality; music that
never goes beyond established
constraints.
Shawn
Mendes’s
newest
single, “Lost In Japan” follows
the same formula — easily
memorable
“Can’t
get
you
off my mind” a bow on top
of
the
whole
shiny,
auto-
tune slathered chorus — only
with an “edgy” R&B twist.
Rather
than
authentic,
the
dancing synth and energetic
tempo’s upbeat pulse are only
reminiscent of Calvin Harris’s
Funk Wav Bounces Vol.1, and
Shawn Mendes finds himself
continuing to rip off those who
came before him.
To be fair, Mendes is not a
bad artist. His vocal range is
astounding,
natural
falsetto
reaches add texture to every
lackluster
melody
and,
as
he jumps from the smooth
crescendo of the chorus into the
abrupt “I could feel the tension
/ We could cut it with a knife” of
verse one, Mendes is graceful,
never allowing the delicate
warmth of his voice to falter.
“Lost In Japan” is nothing
new. Similar to the breezy
triviality of what came before
it — songs like “There’s Nothing
Holding You Back” or “Treat
You Better” — the single’s best
feature is its consumerism — the
nearly universal sentiment that
can be found within Mendes’s
manufactured
confession
of
love.
‘Lost in Japan’ a false,
manufactured charm
SHIMA SADAGHIYANI
Daily Music Editor