Re-evaluating the Throne: A Snapshot of Opulence, Regret, and High Expectations

 I feel compelled to start this review by saying that, for the record, I find the last 12 or so years of Kanye West’s public persona abhorrent. I do not harbor or support his anti-Black or anti-Semitic views. It has been heartbreaking to see an artist that I once saw as aspirational go all the way off the deep end. Less seriously, it has been heartbreaking to see his creative decline (which began before he began spouting hateful rhetoric). I’ve barely (if at all) listened to any of Kanye’s creative output since The Life of Pablo (an album I was severely disappointed in), and while I think his recent rash of apologies suggests that he may be realizing the error of his ways as a man (and because of that, in addition to having empathy for the short leash of compassion Black men too often get, I’m not willing to completely throw him in the trash), I’m probably not gonna be rushing out to listen to any new music he puts out. Hell, for the last 8 or 9 years, I’ve had trouble listening to the old music he put out-so much of which I absolutely loved. So, this review comes with a lot of forethought and consideration, something not too often seen on the internet these days. 

Watch The Throne was an event record. Two rappers–one of whom served as an inspiration and mentor to the other–both of whom were at the top of their games commercially, joining forces. It was the hip-hop equivalent of Michael and Prince making a record together in 1985. The expectations were sky-high from both Kanye’s and Jay’s fan bases. Were those expectations met? Ehhh, hard to say. Probably not. But does that speak more to the quality of Watch the Throne or the outsize expectations of the average hip-hop fan?

Watch the Throne is probably a few tracks too long. It contains a handful of filler. There aren’t too many moments of genuine self-reflection or social commentary. It’s two powerful, rich dudes making a powerful, rich (and a powerful, rich sounding) record that’s got some incredible production, a few poignant lyrics, and a few funny lines. Each artist has individually made better albums, but they’ve also made much, much worse. So maybe iron isn’t exactly sharpening iron here, but…is platinum sharpening platinum, maybe?

The first thing that struck me as curious or odd retroactively was that Watch The Throne contains not a single guest emcee. The average Jay or Kanye record is stuffed with features (although it’s worth noting that the best albums in Jay’s catalog go easy on the supplemental artists), so the fact that the only two people rhyming across this album’s length are the same two artists is notable. I respect their commitment to the bit. Like I wrote earlier, neither Jay nor Ye is kicking their most cerebral rhymes, but Watch the Throne rarely slips to the level of laziness that Hov was more than guilty of partaking in. Even if the lyrics are mainly of the “I got money” variety, they’re often witty and/or spit with intention. And the album’s best verses come when the topics shift slightly, whether we’re talking about the men musing on their lives as future fathers on the contemplative “New Day”, Jay musing on standards of Black beauty on “That’s My Bitch” (even if his verse mostly serves as an excuse to big up his wife) or the fellas ruminating on being betrayed by friends on the stuttering, paranoid “Why I Love You.” 

During our recording of the podcast, GG referred to Watch The Throne as “luxury rap”, and while I can’t say what that sub-genre is supposed to sound like, I’ve gotta agree that the name sticks. I mean, money is certainly a constant lyrical topic. Neither ‘96 Jay nor ‘04 Kanye would have been able to pull off observations of opulence like “Otis” or “Niggas in Paris.” Also, this album sounds expensive. No dusty soul grooves here (at least not until the Pete Rock-helmed bonus track “The Joy”, ironically one of my favorite tracks). The beats sparkle, and they’re also provided by a laundry list of A-list collaborators, from the RZA (whose work on “New Day” can best be described as an homage to Ye’s early productions) to the maximum minimalism of Pharrell Williams on “Lift Off” and “Gotta Have It.” That said, the album’s best production moment comes courtesy of relatively unheralded 88-Keys, whose “No Church in the Wild” is an unsettling, cinematic album opener. As Kanye’s lyrical content was growing increasingly darker, “Church”’s imagery of religious symbols and threesomes matches the prowling soundscape perfectly. It’s a stunning, if unsettling snapshot of opulence and regret that stands as one of the best songs in either artist’s catalog (and had a lengthy afterlife in TV and movie trailers until Kanye’s diarrhea of the mouth/mental illness derailed that train.)

I’ve been in complete Ye-blackout mode (even including the old stuff) for a year or so now, so it was interesting to come back to Watch The Throne, even with the extra baggage, and find that I still enjoyed it. The ridiculous expectations for it may have prevented the album from receiving all the flowers it deserved, but at that point in time, Jay and Kanye had more than enough flowers anyway…and probably still do.