J. Cole bids a fond farewell on The Fall-Off

With this project, the North Carolina MC attempts to stick the perfect landing, as the career which began with The Come Up in 2007 ends with a perfectly mirrored closing curtain on The Fall-Off. Cole has had an unusual career trajectory. While contemporaries (guess who) became hit-makers or revered album artists, Cole took the long route – from Blog Era rap saviour to frustrated label artist and then arriving at his peak much later.

With all the hype, The Fall-Off doesn’t arrive in the form many would have expected. There are no huge standout singles, shock features or reflections on public feuds. As a double-album, it’s not short on content or material. Many rappers attempt a two-disc album, and most crumble under the weight of too few ideas spread too thinly.

However, for the most part, Cole finds a formula to keep it fresh – although certainly not flawless – across an hour and forty minutes, with an album and life narrative split across two ‘discs’, reflecting Cole at ages 29 and 39. There is a different pace and energy to each. Disc 29 is infused with Cole’s ego, pride, anger and a sense of having to prove himself whereas Disc 39 is more reflective, both on his own life and his relationship with music.

The album opens with "29 Intro" which samples James Taylor’s "Carolina In My Mind", and places the listener nostalgically in Cole’s home state. This rose-tinted vision of his youth is punctured by gunshots and leads directly into "Two Six" which opens the album with a rare ferocity from the Fayetteville rapper. It’s the perfect opener, with the juxtaposition of Taylor’s folky depiction shattering under the reality of Cole’s own memory of his hometown.

Early on in Disc 29, Cole makes clear that the focus will be on the rapper himself, his hometown and his peers. On early highlight "Safety", Cole packs three stories within the verses, each reflecting unanswered messages on his phone from friends, with each demanding his attention “I feel no way when you don’t respond, I know your heart and I know our bond”. It’s like an anxiety dream many can relate to, the sense you are letting people down but that life is moving too quickly.

The most accomplished run on the album comes from "Poor Thang" through to "Drum n Bass" on the second half of Disc 29. Each track showcases different sides of Cole, from the braggadocious bars of "WHO TF IZ U" to the songwriting of "Legacy" and the pure composition of "Bunce Road Blues" featuring Future and Tems. The production is varied, compelling and is held together by Cole himself, working with a number of producers including the underrated T Minus.

Disc 29 ends with "Lonely at the Top", foreshadowing the next chapter. It’s a melancholic love letter to his forefathers in hip-hop, undercut by a lingering sense that they’ve fallen off, and that he may follow soon. Approaching Disc 39, it’s unavoidable and now a little dull that we have to mention a back-and-forth that Cole only had a minor part in, but it’s impossible to understand Disc 39 without the context of the Kendrick Lamar-Drake feud.

Cole himself has said Disc 39 was, at least partly, written and recorded in response to the fallout from that situation, although the event itself exists as a shadowy presence rather than being directly addressed. While Cole’s cache in rap circles was somewhat diminished following his famous apology in that battle, in many ways it did define his unique persona within the hip-hop pantheon. In reality, Cole’s retreat was perfectly on brand – not interested in drama or celebrity status, at least not for the sake of it. Cole has always positioned himself as the relatable people’s champion, and that’s the role he settles into comfortably on the second half of the album.

Disc 39 sees Cole enter more conceptual territory, firstly with "The Fall Off is Inevitable" in which he raps his life story backwards. It feels like a creative writing exercise more so than a compelling narrative, however it’s held together with lyrical flourishes and ethereal production. "I Love Her Again" is a stronger entry, as Cole continues the thematic tradition started by Common’s "I Used to Love HER" in personifying hip-hop as a woman. It’s a nice nod to Cole’s place within the rap lineage, and contains the only direct reference to the Kendrick-Drake feud on the project.

The album is a love letter to hip-hop music, with Cole incorporating interpolations and samples from classic records across the album, particularly on Disc 39, whether it’s a DMX hook on "Life Sentence" or the Common sample on "I Love Her Again". This sonic nostalgia echoes Cole’s storytelling, as he reconciles his own experiences within his life’s soundtrack. The biggest conceptual swing is "What If" where Cole writes and performs from the perspective of Biggie and 2Pac, with both agreeing to reconcile in this Marvel-style multiverse moment. It’s a little clumsy and pretty hollow thematically. Given the context of Cole’s own rap battle near miss, it feels like a wasted opportunity to tie this into his own experience.

The slight disappointment of Disc 39 is that Cole’s comfort in his recent life leaves less to be explored than you might hope. That said, there are certainly high-points throughout and the reflection of "Quik Stop" and "and the whole world is the Ville" illustrate Cole’s growth and position now as an elder statesman.

The Fall-Off succeeds in presenting J. Cole in his final form, freed from the pop-chasing of his early career and the GOAT rapper status he always yearned for. Cole realised part-way through his career that his appeal was his relatability, and this album, dedicated to hip-hop and his hometown, is a pure representation of this. He’s an exceptionally proficient rapper, an excellent storyteller, and for the most part, a normal bloke. If this is to be The Fall-Off, there are worse ways to say goodbye.