Hedayat Reda “For the past 10 years, this album has been handcrafted with one intention: a personal challenge to myself to create my best work. To do on my last what I was unable to do on my first. I had no way of knowing how much time, focus, and energy it would eventually take to achieve this, but despite countless challenges along the way, I knew in my heart I would one day get to the finish line. I owed it first and foremost to myself. And secondly, I owed it to hip hop.”
In 2012, one of my most-played songs was “Work Out” by J. Cole. I was living in Santa Barbara, doing an exchange year at University of California, Santa Barbara, and had recently downloaded a playlist that ranged from Kanye West to country. I would play it on repeat on a speaker in the courtyard of my dorm as the soccer and water polo bros rushed in and out of practice. This was the age before Spotify and Apple Music, when you still had to find torrents or convert a YouTube video to MP3. It would take ages to curate that perfect mix of high and vibin’ to keep you going through the day.
J. Cole, to me, is truth. He is the embodiment of what it means to stay true to your voice and reinvent your creativity with authenticity and class.
In 2018, I spent 6+ months running every day to KOD (J. Cole’s fifth studio album). I thought he could not evolve anymore, and yet KOD brought a less melodic, more raw and unfiltered sound, with the kind of steady beat that plays on your heart. Pain disguised—high energy, fast-paced, autonomous. To this day, I cannot listen to that album without feeling like I need to put on my sneakers and rush out into the world.
When it was rumored that The Fall-Off was coming out, I did not know whether to be excited or nervous. For those not in the know, J. Cole has been working on The Fall-Off—his self-proclaimed swansong—for over 10 years. Teased in “1985” and rounding out the sports-metaphor series that began with his first mixtape, 2007’s The Come Up, this two-disc oeuvre to hip hop is said to be his final album, combining the best of his songwriting with industry-heavyweight collaborations.
It’s hard to review an album that plays on your soul. Hip hop and rap are the genres we turn to for fight—for the reminder that life is about making it through.
The Fall-Off is a two-disc, 24-song amalgamation of intimate moments and homages to hometown, upbringing, and the trials of Black living in America. It begins with 29-year-old Jermaine’s return to his hometown and tribute to his North Carolina roots, sampling James Taylor’s “Carolina On My Mind.” Each disc represents a return to Fayetteville at different stages of his life: the first after his stint in New York at age 29, the second closer to present-day Cole at age 39.
OG fans will flock to disc one for its mixtape-esque feel and grittier sound. The first side of Cole’s latest is urban storytelling at its finest. Starting off with “Two Six,” a Kendrick-reminiscent, confrontational, catchy tune, Cole situates us in Fayetteville—from his humble beginnings to his rise—told in fast-paced cadence. “SAFETY” launches us into ’90s hip hop and rap, with a tight flow, street vibes, and Cole’s particularly honest brand of understanding of women and relationships.
“Run a Train,” the first of the feature list, includes Future sampling on the beat and reflections on fame and violence. Notable lines include “like breathalyzer tests I’m tryna walk a straight line” and “goin backwards like a penalty to see a younger me.” Not versed in the world of gang violence myself, I found Cole’s inclusion of the Gaza conflict in the line “When too many bodies get piled up in these rivals’ histories/ So stoppin’ this violence in like bringing the Gaza Strip peace” both contentious and attention-grabbing. To liken that struggle to a genocide feels like a distasteful stretch to me, yet it also made me wonder how bad violence in America must be to merit such a metaphor in the first place.
“Legacy,” another track with a feature (PJ), is archetypal Cole, bringing it back to Cole World times: honest, melodic, simple. “Bunce Road Blues” is one of the tightest hits on this album, a great mix of Cole’s songwriting with Tems’s soulful voice: “I’m handcuffed, I’m roped in” rings in my head long after I’ve abandoned the album. Nonetheless, I believe Future could have been left out of this one; his scratchy voice does not add much to the story and feels like an unnecessary addition.
“Drum n Bass” is perhaps my favorite song on both discs. With no intro, it starts strong, the melody reminiscent of Forest Hills Drive with more modern songwriting and a beat that echoes KOD. The directness of Cole’s writing—whether in his references to women and the rap scene or the betrayals in the music industry—is relatable (in an unexpected way), and one can’t help but bop along to the beat.
Ending with “Lonely at the Top,” Jermaine brings us back to “Middle Child” and “1985”: advice to a younger generation and diary-like reflections on where he is in life. One of the rawest songs on the album, this stripped-down, vocal-heavy track reveals a new side of Cole that hits deep—one I would love to see more of.
Disc Two is Forest Hills Drive++. Cole in his refined era. “39 intro” leads with melody (who knew Cole could sing?) and segues into verse-heavy, classic Cole style in “The Fall-Off is Inevitable.” If I had to summarize what Cole’s rap feels like, this would be the reference point: slick rhymes, deep sound, reflection-heavy lyrics. It is clear Cole spends time contemplating how his experiences interlink and how they represent the wider narrative of his generation.
“The Villest” is a knockout: fast-paced rhyme, chill beats, and a feature from Erykah Badu. “Me and you, your momma and your cousin too” and “I got something I wanna tell you/ Dreams can come true, you’ll get yours too/ But it won’t save” are hooks so intense you find yourself singing them in the shower after only one listen.
“Old Dog” feat. Petey Pablo showcases Cole’s incredible flow. Rapid-fire lyrics (when does he breathe?), confrontational tone, slightly repetitive content—but still funky and fun.
“Life Sentence” mixes instant gratification with deep thought. Through intimate meditations on love and loss told in a confessional, open-page manner, I am left asking myself the deeply personal questions: “what goes on paper when you write?” and “why?”
“Only You” with Burna Boy… no words. I did not know I was waiting for a Cole/Burna Boy collaboration, but I am damn happy it happened. Sometimes I believe Cole’s strongest work emerges in contrast with other featured artists, and this song is no exception. His unique brand of storytelling works beautifully in a duo format, softening his tone and adding musical depth to his work.
Other honorable mentions on disc two include “Man Up Above” and “I Love Her Again,” while “Ocean Way” attempts to introduce a new type of singing to the album—perhaps less successfully.
In summary, while maybe not his strongest work—a double album is a huge undertaking without slipping into repetitive themes and cliché writing—The Fall-Off is undeniably a work of art in its own right. It tells a story, takes you on both an interior and exterior journey, and offers powerful moments to dwell on and question. Cole’s finale is a worthy one—an album we will be playing over and over again (especially once it’s warm enough to run again).
With this album, I do think Cole has cemented his status as one of the GOATs. Here’s to hoping it won’t be his last.
4/5 stars.
