Thirty-plus years ago, Jay-Z pulled himself out of a life of drug dealing to become one of the most famous rappers of all time. He owned part of an NBA franchise, invested in fashion, technology and alcohol brands, and became a liaison between the NFL and the world of pop music. He has partnered with companies including Amazon, Target and Sprint. Not to mention being married to Beyoncé and having three children.
So perhaps the strategic test he faced about 20 minutes past midnight on Monday morning was, by comparison, an easy task. Meanwhile, the start of his show at Yankee Stadium was delayed for nearly three hours, due to congestion at the entrances. Tens of thousands of people in the stadium were politely upset, trapped in a kind of purgatory, wondering if there would be a show.
When Jay-Z finally took the stage, he leaned in like a PR guru. With justice and conviction, he assured the crowd that their patience would be rewarded. And then, while the sleepless city went into silent mode, Jay-Z went to work, turning a much-delayed performance into a fleeting and engrossing affair – a deeply memorable entry in a long catalog of memorable events.
It was the third of three sold-out nights at Yankee Stadium, with each show focusing on a different part of Jay-Z’s career. Overall, they had an air of ecstatic boosterism. But what lurked beneath was a thoughtful calculation, a small concern, a stubborn commitment to art that survived decades of commercialism and commerce that survived decades of art.
That was compounded by the difference between the first two shows. The opening night, centered on his intimate and haunting 1996 debut album “Reasonable Doubt,” was about storytelling, the establishment of truth and the testimony of a shared understanding with his longtime fans. The second show, which focused on his 2001 album “The Blueprint,” was a light-hearted celebration of both Jay-Z’s peak moments of endless songwriting and the heights to which the genre was able to rise on his shoulders.
The third and most interesting night, called “Extra Innings,” seemed to be an omnibus to fully capture his career, but its most notable moments were very simple. Jay-Z remains, after all these years, perhaps the most technologically savvy rapper ever to achieve mainstream fame. Sometime after 1 a.m., he delivered a collection of surprisingly complex verses – the oddly pointlist “Jigga What, Jigga Who,” the glossy “Clique,” a carefully-heard “Dying Presidents II.” One man, rapping with sophistication and skill, dominates an arena full of fans: By the standards of modern, high-level hip-hop concerts, these performances were almost terrible. Without the 3,000-square-foot video screen and the occasional fireworks display, it could just as easily have been at Carnegie Hall (where he’s performed a packed concert before) or Lincoln Center (not yet, but certainly one day).
There are a lot of other shocking things going on, too. There was an appearance by Rihanna — who Jay-Z signed 20 years ago when he was president of Def Jam — that sounded like a wildfire despite her complaining, “You know I’m rusty, right?” There was big Atlanta rapper Jeezy, who remixed Jay-Z’s “Go Crazy” apparently he hadn’t performed in a decade, and it was his funniest moment of the night. Usher came out and sang “Heart of the City (Ain’t No Love),” one of the few songs that really changed the song. After Pharrell performed a mini set of club classics for the second night in a row, his fans Clipse played their dope hit “Grindin’.” After a while, Beyoncé took the stage with about 20 dancers for an ethereal and muscular mini-medley of smashes, one of the most painful changes of the night that still managed to feel free under the big umbrella of Jay-Z.
The fact that all this was happening in the middle of the night, in an area fenced off but open to the sky, made the whole story a secret, as if the arena was on a plane. No one – on stage or in the crowd – seemed to want to leave. Thousands of really grown men carried JAŸ-Z-30 sale bags like Birkins.
In comparison, the first two concerts were straightforward affairs. “Blueprint” is one of Jay-Z’s most popular and lyrical albums, and his tour of it was like going from one award-winning song to the next, including the singing “Izzo (HOVA)” and the titanic “U Don’t Know.” Towards the end of the set, Eminem joined Jay-Z on stage to perform “Renegade,” their most controversial collaboration, showcasing two opposing styles of grand strategy.
Addressing “Reasonable Doubt” the night before, Jay-Z was nonchalant and respectful. An album of inner ravings, one-act theater monologues and showmanship. Aside from a few flamboyant moments — say, Beyoncé singing Mary J. Blige’s parts on “Can’t Knock the Hustle” — she was mostly about dexterity (“D’Evils,” “22 Two’s”) and solemnity (“Regrets”). The most notable guest was Nas, with whom Jay-Z feuded, though now the two men have enjoyed a grown-up reunion.
Seemingly nodding to this silence of adults, Jay-Z left “Takeover” instead of his performance of “The Blueprint” – one of his diabolical dis songs, its absence suggests if not maturity, then at least pragmatism. The same thing happened when Jay-Z’s oldest daughter, Blue Ivy, played “Feelin’ It” on the piano. You can hear him anxiously jumping around the most beautiful lines of the song.
This was another way Jay-Z navigated some of the more sensitive conversations between his old and new selves. And yet, there were ghosts hovering over these games, important figures in his career whose absence was deeply felt. The Notorious BIG – who was killed in 1997 – made for his best sparring partner in “Brooklyn’s Finest” (although the version here, with some of BIG’s songs separated from the rhythm, sounds too full). Kanye West (now known as Ye), was one of the two sonic artists of “The Blueprint,” and was once Jay-Z’s main protege. But his obnoxious public outbursts have made him persona non grata, in this context and in many others, even though he was once a vocal fan of Jay-Z.
Those who came forward emphasized Jay-Z as a student and a benefactor. On “Bring It On,” from the beginning, he was joined by Jaz-O, the Brooklyn rapper who gave him his first break. And welcome Slick Rick for “The Ruler’s Back.” These were the most local acts of the world-class concert, but they reinforced Jay-Z’s view of himself and his triumphs – as an extension of rap culture, not a violation of it. He extended good wishes to others, including Jeezy, Clipse and Atlanta legend Jermaine Dupri, who is often left out of New York-focused conversations about rap’s popularity, on “Money Ain’t a Thang.”
There was enough overlap across all three shows – versions of “______ in Paris” (delightful) and “Empire State of Mind” (groan-worthy). And throughout the three nights, there were nods to the songs that were left unplayed, whether it was the wicked “Do It Again (Put Ya Hands Up)” or the humdrum backdrop of his famous 1995 freestyle with Big L on “The Stretch Armstrong and Bobbito Show.”
This served as an indication that no matter how perfect these types of plays are meant to be, they can scratch the surface of an artist who has worked for over 30 years. The roads that can be taken here are almost as fruitful as the ones he chose.
Especially considering that Jay-Z is now 56 years old, and may never again do shows of this scale, like this. Maybe an overnight stay at the Barclays Center, or the Sphere in Las Vegas? Or perhaps a set of very quiet and intimate rooms, where he can express the fullness of his wordplay without the pressure of signing up for cheap seats? (Though at this weekend’s shows, no seat was particularly cheap.) But the one-man Coachella he’s planning may not be practical, or appealing, a few years down the line.
That gave more urgency and anxiety to Sunday night – check that, Monday morning – work. After hours of holding the pattern, Jay-Z presented as a man in a war against time, against property, against the fall of the curtain. As the show moved toward 3 a.m., he made it clear that for him — for now, at least — bedtime is a suggestion, not a rule.
