If Shawn Carter, a.k.a. Jay-Z, has found himself a target for clashes throughout 4:44, it's not with Kanye, or Kendrick, or any other fellow musician. No: the Brooklyn rapper's struggle is entirely with himself. At 47, having nothing to prove to anyone, Jay-Z is not out to gauge the competition or battle the new generation. Rather, he is hitting the psychoanalyst's couch. And 4:44 makes for a beautiful couch to do just that. Solid, robust and nicely designed. The album was produced by Ernest Dion Wilson a.k.a. No I.D. (it's rare for Jay-Z to hand the keys to a single producer) and it remains true to the fundamentals of Jay-Z's work. No vaguely electro sounds, no contemporary beats. Jay-Z has made a classic album, a true Jay-Z album, with groovy and erudite choices of samples (Fugees, Stevie Wonder, Funk Inc., Donny Hathaway to name a few) over which he lays down introspective rhymes on the turpitudes of conjugal life with Mrs Carter (who features on Family Feud), and reflecting on his status and ego. He is restrained in his choice of other artists who feature, inviting only Frank Ocean and Damian Marley to the album. But after listening to the album several times over, 4:44 impresses with its precision, its workmanship, and a certain kind of perfection. Jay-Z made the revolution years ago. What's important to him now is to continue to rule and be respected. Mission accomplished. © MD/Qobuz