In reviewing the Kanye West/Jay-Z double bill Watch the Throne way past deadline, I’m given the benefit of perspective. Just a couple months out from its initial, unconventional release (first iTunes, then major retailers, and finally mom and pop outlets), hipster-baiting catchphrase "that shit cray," an annoying refrain from this record's weakest cut, "Niggas in Paris," has already managed to ingratiate itself into the cultural lexicon. (“Cray,” by the way, is an unfortunate abbreviation for crazy, not the freshwater crustacean.) But more pressingly, let's take a look at the way an album ostensibly meant as a promotion of flagrant decadence may be perceived by a post-Occupy Wall Street world: Kanye's been visiting protestors on the front lines, spawning think-pieces from mostly white journalists questioning whether someone of such inflated wealth should lend their voice to this grassroots movement. Way to miss the point, white journalists. The reason Watch the Throne will hopefully someday be viewed as more than a celebration of two industry moguls' riches is that it isn't really about that at all.

As some smart folks have already noted, Watch the Throne is in part a celebration of just how high a black man (or two, in this case) can get in 2011. One might think it insensitive to brag about power and wealth when so many others have seen such misfortune, but that's one reason why Jay tends to fare better here than Kanye; his braggadocio has always been invested with gravity and pathos, and more so as he gets older and more introspective about the disparity between his happily married, influential life as an icon and his days selling coke on the corner. Kanye's never had those street bonafides; he grew up middle-class in Chicago and, as far as we know, never had to run drugs a day in his life. He wasn't exactly born into privilege, and he's seen some sadness in his life (most notably the loss of his mother from cosmetic surgery complications), but his rise isn't as pronounced as his mentor’s, and his lyrical boasts come infused with a sense of arrogance Jay's rarely do. Then again, it's the contrasts present between these two titans of contemporary hip-hop that make them so compelling as a duo, and that make Watch the Throne function both as the crowd-pleasing blockbuster they publicly wanted it to be, and the more complex work of art they clearly yearn for it to be appreciated as.

Personally, I like Watch the Throne best as abstract narrative: much like Kanye's addled masterpiece, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, it follows a skyward trajectory of fame and battles back the demons of celebrity culture seduction. After the spectacular midnight hour stage-setting of "No Church in the Wild," which features typically dark and alluring lyrical turns from both principles, Jay's wifey Beyoncé puts in an extended cameo on the celestial fanfare of "Lift Off," finding a perfect encapsulation of the record's themes in one line: "You don't know what we've been through to make it this far." Later, the incendiary "Murder to Excellence" fills in the blanks, with Kanye spinning disconcerting images of "black on black murder" and Jay countering with a "celebration of black excellence." To these two, the latter represents both salvation from the aforesaid violence and the danger of feeding those fires, and Watch the Throne constantly succeeds on the strength of that juxtaposition: the frictions of fame and its effects on two artists who'd never be strong enough to walk away from it but are certainly thoughtful enough to understand the negative effect it can have on them as people. As on Dark Twisted Fantasy, all this familiar celebrity angst is given resonance through the filter of a black man's awe at his ability to even get this high, to be someone of power and influence in a society he grew up believing wouldn't allow it.

That's the heavier core of Watch the Throne, but the album’s second great strategy is the way it eschews weight for levity with just the right balance. My favorite track on this album, and in fact likely my favorite track of the year, is "Otis," a marvel of economy in production: Kanye transforms a vocal sample from a vamping Otis Redding into the base of a jovial trade-off between he and Jay. The two friends riff on their fame with the improvisatory verve of a great soul singer, an unconventional but brilliant tribute to the aforesaid icon of popular music. Watch the Throne isn't always as grave or as spirited as "Murder to Excellence" and "Otis," respectively—"Niggas in Paris" is decadence without wit to ground it (though the "Blades of Glory" sample is funny) and "That's My Bitch" is weirdly misogynistic without quite seeming self-aware about it. But a few mishandled tracks can't shake the sturdy foundation of this fun, intelligent record, one that confirms these two artists' place in the pop pantheon both as figures of huge commercial standing and socially-conscious descendants of black music's enduring values.

Review by:
Sam C. Mac