Unlike Watch the Throne, Jay-Z lacks a foil to bring out an emotional or sociological underpinning, someone to help Magna Carta resonate beyond look at my shit. Timberlake is in my name is Bob and I work at my job mode during the laughably overblown Holy Grail", cycling through every tortured artist cliché short of a crucifixion metaphor. And as bad as the Smells Like Teen Spirit interpolation reads on paper, once you hear JT and Jay-Z duet on and we all just entertainers/ And were stupid and contagious, the Nirvana song becomes just another forgettable status symbol. And where Kurt Cobain felt compromised by his fame, Jay and Timberlake are doing everything in their power not to offend the money people-- whether its Samsung, Target, or someone dropping $250 to see them at the Rose Bowl.
Jay-Z rapping about the incomprehensible awesomeness of his life is nothing new, and the corporate synergy is hardly a novelty: The Black Album doubled as a retirement party, Kingdom Come was launched by a Budweiser commercial, American Gangster coincided with a Hollywood blockbuster of the same name, and, in hindsight, Blueprint 3 was made with full knowledge that Jay-Z would be Coachellas first hip-hop headliner. Hes a businessman and a business, man. After all, while Samsung shelled out seven figures for exclusive access to the Jay-Z brand, Shawn Carter was the guy signing the contract and cashing the check. But the best of those joint ventures seemed determined to reach a new audience and create a connection. The weirdly distant and safe Magna Carta Holy Grail abides by the tried and true business principle that the customer is always right: you just have to remember who the customer is here.
