Nas - New York State Of Mind

Street’s disciple, my raps are trifle
I shoot slugs from my brain just like a rifle
Stampede the stage, I leave the microphone split
Play Mr. Tuffy while I’m on some Pretty Tone shit
Verbal assassin, my architect pleases
When I was 12, I went to Hell for snuffin’ Jesus
(from Nas's verse on “Live At The Barbeque”)

Nasir Bin Olu Dara Jones is considered, with striking unanimity, one of the greatest rappers of all time, as well as one of the most famous in memory. Born in New York in 1973, he had released 12 albums by 2020, seven of which earned the coveted platinum certification in the United States. Among these bestsellers is Illmatic (1994), one of the most important works in the entire history of the genre, often ranked near the very top of lists of the greatest hip-hop albums of all time.

The masterpiece debut Illmatic.

The first phase of his career, which we can roughly place within the six years from '94 to '99, is significant for all of late-millennium American music, as well as essential to understanding hip-hop at the turn of the century. He has continued to reach a wide audience even after 2000, though increasingly for news items and gossip rather than for great songs or great albums. Part of this second phase is the long feud with Jay-Z, which has fascinated trade magazines and webzines alike. After all, his output, feverish at the close of the millennium, has grown ever sparser, amounting to just two solo albums and one collaborative album released from 2010 to today: this is a final, more relaxed coda to his artistic journey, one that has revealed a personality attuned to the socio-political issues of the United States and Africa, and ready to act on them, donating his own royalties to the cause.
Let's trace together how a kid who grew up between Brooklyn and Queens became one of the most respected, beloved, celebrated and... imitated rappers of all time.

The dream of becoming a rapper is the kind that burns brightest in the heart of a teenager, with all the intensity that aspirations carry at that age. First nicknamed Kid Wave, then Nasty Nas, fifteen-year-old Nasir Jones made his debut with verses on Main Source's "Live At The Barbecue", from the album "Breaking Atoms" (1991). The track "Halftime", featured on the soundtrack of Oliver Stone's romantic thriller "Zebrahead" (1992), still wasn't enough to land him a deal with a major rap label, and suddenly his adolescence turned into a nightmare: in May '92, his friend and first deejay, Willy "Ill Will" Graham, was shot and killed, in a shooting that also wounded his brother. It's the kind of moment that marks a turning point in a life, the trauma that becomes the push toward a triumphant career. If he were a comic-book superhero, this event would be his origin story.

A few months later, Mc Search began collaborating with Nas, eventually releasing "Back To The Grill", included on his debut "Return Of The Product" (1992). It was Mc Search who helped him land the record deal he'd been chasing, and with none other than the powerful major label Sony. His mentor became executive producer of the soon-to-arrive debut, which also featured a top-tier producer: Christopher Edward Martin, aka Dj Premier, already renowned for his work with Gang Starr, Ice-T, Heavy D, Krs-One, and later a key name behind albums by hip-hop giants such as Big Daddy Kane, Notorious B.I.G., Jay-Z and Rakim. Alongside Martin were other heavyweights: William Paul "Large Professor" Mitchell, already heard on works by Eric B. & Rakim, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, and also on a track by the legendary A Tribe Called Quest, by Slick Rick, by Big Daddy Kane and many others; Kamaal Ibn "Q-Tip" John Fareed, member of A Tribe Called Quest and one of the founding fathers of jazz-rap; Leshan David "L.E.S." Lewis, destined to become an important collaborator of Nas's in the early years of his career, who would reach the mainstream with Will Smith and Jennifer Lopez a few years later; Peter O. "Pete Rock" Phillips, raised on productions for Heavy D & the Boyz, then on to EPMD, Public Enemy, Run-DMC.

The fact that Nasir Jones was singled out as one of the most talented young rappers around, combined with the major label's interest and the involvement of this team of producers, inflated expectations for the debut to the point where people fantasized about an album that would change hip-hop forever: as rarely happens with hype, this time the wait was more than rewarded.

No doubt, we gon’ keep it real, true, true.
(da “The Genesis”)

Illmatic (1994) is barely 40 minutes of hip-hop's New Testament, signed by a nineteen-year-old. If 80s lyrics had been direct, simple and effective, driven by a sacred urge to entertain and be entertained, over the course of a decade the genre had been upended by the need for a social and political message, by the staggering explosion in production complexity, and by the increasingly refined technique of rappers. On Illmatic, all of this comes together: the narration of the hardships of the American metropolis merges with a sinuous blend of funk, jazz and soul, giving Nasir Jones the chance to unleash his poetics of the ghetto: a web of simple, internal and multisyllabic rhymes; enjambments that oil a liquid flow, and assonances that trace out intricate rhythms. His way of joining dense verses with a handful of catchy hooks opens up a middle ground between hardcore rap and the pop charts that few others — perhaps only Notorious B.I.G. — were treading at the time, and a territory Nas himself would conquer with his second, more commercial album.

We enter the narrative with "The Genesis", which sets the urban backdrop of the album and offers a first snapshot of Nas, someone who has lived and breathed hip-hop since childhood. The stylistic manifesto "N.Y. State Of Mind" recounts a life of violence and crime over a claustrophobic jazz loop that repeats itself obsessively, while an extremely long verse is doled out like a rosary speaking of dealing and despair. It's the dominant mood of the record, that of someone who feels suffocated by a neighborhood offering no way out except a dream like music. Not even the dreamy funk of "Life's Bitch", more hedonistic in its lyrics too, lifts the shadow of melancholy and despair running through the album, made plain here by the achingly sweet closing trumpet solo.

I never sleep, ‘cause sleep is the cousin of death
Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined
I think of crime when I’m in a New York State of Mind
(da “N.Y. State Of Mind”)

"The World Is Yours" pinpoints the difficult way out of the neighborhood and its miseries, toward the symbolic conquest of the world: it's a ray of light that warms the heart, a reassuring positivity that shows just how complex Nas's hardcore hip-hop is, never flattened into clichés of violence, braggadocio and greed.

The previously released "Halftime" fits perfectly at the album's midpoint, a song written by a teenager that holds its own even alongside the other classics in the tracklist. "Memory Lane (Sittin' In Da Park)" wraps itself in a religious fervor, as the voices turn almost into a gospel prayer. The letter to friends behind bars on "One Love" sounds, in hindsight, like a cliché: it's a display of authenticity, straight from a true street kid, blessed with an anthology-worthy production by Q-Tip, a wizard who reworks a vibraphone jazz sample to make it sound like a nocturnal counterpoint to Jones's razor-sharp rhymes. "One Time 4 Your Mind" and "It Ain't Hard To Tell" serve as a showcase for the rapper's technique, while "Represent", with its old-school chorus, has all the hallmarks of a hip-hop anthem, starting with its title and its assonance with "rap".

I’m out for presidents to represent me (Say what?)
I’m out for presidents to represent me (Say what?)
I’m out for dead presidents to represent me
(da “The World Is Yours”)

After debuting at #12 on the Billboard 200, the album struggled to consolidate its commercial success. The singles weren't the smash hits one might have expected, so it wasn't until 1996 that it went gold: platinum status for the first million copies sold followed in 2001, and was matched again in 2019, proof that Illmatic has become a textbook long-seller. Then again, hip-hop critics identified it as a landmark right from the start, a masterpiece destined to become essential listening. On that note, the recollection of what happened in the offices of "The Source" offers a snapshot of those first listens:

"It's about 9 pm. I get to the office and gather all the editors in the conference room. I remember who was there: [Matty C], [Chris Wilder], [Schott 'Free' Jacobs]. Everyone's nodding their heads, eyes wide open, jaws dropped, it's hip-hop heaven. We had a pretty crappy sound system, but it didn't matter, I play the tape and this magical music comes out of the speakers. When the funky/eerie/powerful xylophone notes of 'One Love' kick in, I remember [Jacobs] literally lying down on the floor... He can't believe how good it is. None of us can. It's the best stuff we've ever heard in our lives... Internally, we start discussing how we're going to handle this record. I say right away it has to get a 5" (our translation).

At the time, the rule that the highest score was reserved only for true classics made it impossible to award a 5 even to albums with every hallmark of an instant classic: it was withheld even from Dr. Dre's "The Chronic", but it was granted to Illmatic, sparking astonishment among fans and kicking off the rumor that would brand Nas's debut as an overrated album.

Among the thousand reviews and thousand possible analyses crowding the magazines of the era, the books on hip-hop, and even many more general-interest volumes (including the famous "1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die" from Universe Publishing), it's worth citing a 2002 retrospective in "Prefix Mag" written by Matthew Gasteier:

"If every other hip-hop record were destroyed, the entire genre could be reconstructed from this one album" (if every other hip-hop record were destroyed, the entire genre could be rebuilt starting from this one album).

The difficult follow-up, It Was Written.

The second album is an attempt to use crystalline talent to become famous not just among hardcore fans but with the general public. The goal is to match the commercial results of Snoop Dogg's "Doggystyle" (1993), which had sold a million copies in just a few days.

To do that, the plan is to focus on quantity, simplicity and the right manager, overhauling the working method to target the market in a precise, effective way: gone is the lean, essential 10-track, 40-minute tracklist, with few guests and no filler from the debut, replaced by a 14-track, 56-minute block driven by a radio single like "If I Ruled The World (Imagine That)", featuring the then-famous Lauryn Hill of the Fugees; gone is the detachment from the trendy labels of the moment, replaced by an at times very decisive embrace of gangsta-rap and mafioso-rap tropes, much as his colleague Notorious B.I.G. had done on his second album; gone is the team made up solely of sophisticated, jazz-rap-leaning producers, now widened to include big-name hitmakers like Trackmasters and a hugely successful veteran like Dr. Dre; and there's a change of manager, with the arrival of the ambitious Steve "The Commissioner" Stoute.

The genuine, exhilarating Nas of the debut becomes a rapper who name-drops Pablo Escobar as a role model, rattles off famous brands and basically brags about his pedigree as a street criminal. Released in 1996, It Was Written is still the work of a top-class talent, except he has swapped the urgency of telling his own story and telling stories through music for the need to prop up the image of an over-the-top, vulgar gangsta-rapper. "The Message" seems to want to tie back to Grandmaster Flash, but the following "Street Dreams", with its gunshots and a hook lifted from the Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams", drops the mask: this is Nas chasing the other hits of the period, sounding closer to early Jay-Z than to the masters of the golden age.

Dj Premier's return on "I Gave You Power" gives Nas another chance to show off his technique, while "Nas Is Coming" captures his collaboration with Dr. Dre, the god of g-funk.

To really convey the brazen grandeur you sense while listening, Nas also brings in his own crew, The Firm, on "Affirmative Action": that's Nas himself, AZ, Foxy Brown and Cormega, a group that will last only as long as one disappointing album. "Black Girl Lost" (featuring Joel "JoJo" Hailey) veers toward a softer, sensual pop-rap before "Suspect", with its crackle of vinyl, reminds everyone that this is still the author of Illmatic, with spectacular bursts of flow and river-long verses.

Even while sticking to an already well-defined style, "Live Nigga Rap" (featuring Mobb Deep) is still one of the genre's classics, an anthology-worthy two-man freestyle. Finally, there's the already-mentioned "If I Ruled The World", the only moment that could be slotted into the debut's tracklist without suffering by comparison: a nostalgic, melancholy shading; sensational control of rhythm and meter; Lauryn Hill's gorgeous voice and Trackmasters' shimmering production.

⟦Q1⟧

Greeted by critics with the kind of enthusiasm that often follows the artist more than the work itself, the album gives people who had somehow overlooked the debut a chance to pay attention to the rapper too. A mild halo effect carries the follow-up to Illmatic to considerable attention, and it shines, at least in part, with reflected light. Looking back at both albums a couple of decades later, It Was Written feels like the debut's younger brother: a less concise, less polished work, though still fronted by the same world-class rapper.

The commercial results, at least, are far better than those of the first album: it goes double platinum, selling more than two million copies within a few months. The modest creative dip paired with the explosive sales success leads many listeners and music fans to reinforce a narrative that is as stereotyped as it is simplistic and somewhat damning, one that casts Nas as a rapper who sold himself out entirely to the market, losing all substance as a voice for the new hip-hop. That flattens the dynamic driving the first stretch of Jones's career: he certainly doesn't repeat the miracle of the debut, but he keeps inspiring the hip-hop scene, writing, if not classic albums, at least anthology-worthy singles. Above all, as we'll see, it's unfair to the rapper's attempts to keep evolving, struggles that will lead to a genuine, deep crisis within a few years.

The double-that-isn't-quite-a-double, I Am… Nastradamus.

In 1997, the aforementioned Firm debuted with "The Album", achieving notable commercial results, but they survive for only one season: too unstable a project, held together only by the ambition of Dr. Dre and Nas, both riding high at the time. Following the supergroup's success, however temporary, and on the heels of the thrilling sales of his second album, Nas sets to work on a double album meant to be his own "All Eyez On Me" or his own "Life After Death". It's supposed to be called "I Am… The Autobiography", but unfortunately it will never see the light of day: in 1998, a bootleg version of the album hits the internet, in one of hip-hop's most talked-about leaks. To resolve the situation, the decision is made to release two separate records in 1999: first I Am… and then Nastradamus.

The first album contains the hardcore anthem "Hate Me Now", with Sean "Puff Daddy" Combs, but overall it's an uneven work, one that recalls the melancholy of the early days on "Small World" and "Nas Is Like", but also a far more crowd-pleasing style on tracks like the nursery-rhyme "I Want To Talk To You" and "You Won't See Me Tonight", a Latin-tinged r'n'b number that could have come off a Jennifer Lopez album.

There's also room for winking g-funk moments like "Dr. Knockboot" and "Money Is My Bitch", renewing the nod to the West Coast. Split this way between street-level beginnings and crowd-pleasing hits, the album shapes up as one full of compromises, carried by Nas's rapping skill (listen to "Big Things") and held together by the outstanding production of the ever-present Dj Premier and L.E.S., now joined by the more commercial Trackmasters and Timbaland.

Most critically acclaimed Pulitzer Prize winner
Best storyteller, thug narrator, my style’s greater
Model dater, big threat to a lot of you haters
Commentators ringside try watchin’ my paper
Almost a decade, quite impressive
(da “Hate Me Now”)

After debuting straight at number one on the Billboard 200, selling 470,000 copies in its first week, I Am… eventually goes double platinum. Its follow-up Nastradamus, forming an unusual double album with it, seems instead to show a dip in both inspiration and audience interest.

Indeed, it sells half as many copies in its first week compared to its predecessor, a sign of the market's diminished enthusiasm, but it still goes platinum, reaching the million-copy mark. Although the title track is one of the most enjoyable songs of his career, there's little here that can stand alongside his best work from the past, despite "You Owe Me" reaching number 59 on the Billboard Hot 100.

The end of the millennium coincides with the end of the gangsta-rap period for Nas, who risks quickly alienating his fans during a confused phase of his artistic trajectory. To get back on track, the rapper returns to talking about street life and ghetto snapshots as he did on his debut, choosing for his fifth album the title Stillmatic (2001, a portmanteau of "still" and Illmatic). To rekindle his fans' passion, he also stokes a feud with Jay-Z with "Ether", responding to the latter's "Takeover" (2001). The public responds well, and the album once again surpasses two million copies sold, registering a considerable "rebound" from the downward trajectory marked by Nastradamus.

Having returned to the storytelling of his early days, Nas partly recreates the magic of the masterpiece that launched his career, even if the album's impact on the scene is far more modest and the context has changed considerably: not only have experimental gems like the self-titled Deltron 3030 album (2000) and Cannibal Ox's "The Cold Vein" (2001) already been released — albeit aimed at somewhat different audiences — but new talents have also emerged on the scene, and we're talking about giants embraced even by the mainstream like Eminem ("The Marshall Mathers Lp" came out in 2000) and Jay-Z ("Reasonable Doubt" from 1996 but also "The Blueprint", from 2001), the southern-hip-hop duo OutKast (the exceptional "Aquemini", from 1998, and "Stankonia", from 2000, are already history) and rhyme virtuosos like Aesop Rock ("Float" and "Labor Days" date from that same two-year span and fear few comparisons) and MF Doom ("Operation: Doomsday" from 1999).

The “sequel” Stillmatic.

Between 1994 and 2001, hip-hop exploded into a wide range of very different styles, which in the meantime reached high creative levels: in other words, it's no longer enough to be a monster on the mic, a rhythm prodigy and a young kid from the ghetto with a tough past to stand out in a scene so crowded, lively and thriving.

That said, Stillmatic really is a return to his roots, especially to the striking lyrical dexterity that drives the aforementioned "Ether", the frenetic "Got Ur Self A…" (a treat for fans of "The Sopranos"), the aggressive "One Mic" or the explosive "Rule". These are performances that remain a benchmark for every aspiring rapper, but they fail to point the way forward for the genre.

I’ve been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and forgotten
Luck ran out, they hoped that I’d be gone, stiff and rotten
Y’all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave
Talk about me, laugh behind my back, but in my face
Y’all some well-wishers, friendly-acting, envy-hiding snakes
With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take?
(da “Ether”)

It's understandable, then, that The Source would also award Stillmatic the coveted maximum score of five microphones, following an editorial line that hasn't been particularly generous toward the new millennium's scene. Viewed with twenty years of subsequent hip-hop history behind us, easily consulted and traced today, however, it stands as a late example of what Nas's career could have been had he not wanted to move closer to the world of gangsta-rap and mafioso-rap.

A few months earlier, a compilation had brought Nasir Jones together with other rappers from Queens, such as Mobb Deep, Nature, Nashawn, Littles, Bravehearts and Cormega, while also featuring appearances from golden age legends like Roxanne Shanté, MC Shan and Marley Marl. The title of the collection, "Nas & Ill Will Records Presents QB's Finest" (2000), seeks to reconnect the rapper to the housing projects of his New York neighborhood, Queensbridge (abbreviated "QB").

In an attempt to definitively reassemble his rap persona, the compilation The Lost Tapes (2002) also arrives, labeled in its liner notes as "No cameos. No hype. No bullsh*t". It's the opposite of Jay-Z's exalted, spectacular, bombastic and flashy style. It stops the clock after the 43-minute mark, splitting the tracklist into 11 songs and thus proving essential in structure as well. There are tracks that blend seamlessly with those from Illmatic and Stillmatic, such as "No Idea's Original", another showcase of the rapper's technique but also a splendid hardcore-jazz production courtesy of The Alchemist, or the more melancholic "Drunk By Myself".

Reflection and hardcore in God's Son and Street's Disciple.

When his sixth album, God's Son (2002), arrives, it's the year Eminem tries to mend the rift between Nas and Jay-Z by including both on his list of the greatest rappers of all time: in "'Till I Collapse" he indeed name-checks "Reggie [Redman], Jay-Z, 2Pac and Biggie, André from OutKast, Jada, Kurupt, Nas, and then me". It's a work that continues the feud with Jay-Z ("Last Real Nigga Alive"), but one that is also shaped by the recent death of the rapper's mother (the moving "Dance").

Well-placed on the Billboard 200, it goes platinum and confirms a return to form, aided here by a diverse team of producers, including the aforementioned Eminem and Salaam Remi, and by a few high-profile guest appearances, from the queen of black music Alicia Keys on the anguished "Warrior Song" to his future wife Kelis on the funk-pop-rap of "Hey Nas", right up to a posthumous duet with 2Pac.

This is a more reflective, mature and introspective Nasir Jones, finally back in control of his own career. He even allows himself a sample of Beethoven's "Für Elise" on "I Can", echoing Xzibit's experiment on "Paparazzi", and raps over acoustic guitar on "Thugz Mansion (N.Y.)".

The positive run continues with Street's Disciple (2004), a remarkably compact double album that packs the fruits of his new direction into under 90 minutes. Commercially, it's a triumph: it hits the million-copy mark in just two weeks. This time Salaam Remi dominates production, contributing to no fewer than 11 tracks.

Often a pure hardcore hip-hop work with few concessions, it contains the jaw-dropping verses of the obsessive "Nazareth Savage" and plenty of vintage touches in the arrangements (for instance, listen to "Disciple" and "You Know My Style").

There's even an oddity like the presence of Scarlett, the “female” version of Nas created by altering the rapper's voice. Guest appearances are few, but those by Ludacris and Busta Rhymes add depth to the work and wink at a new generation of listeners. The tribute to Rakim on “U.B.R. (Unauthorized Biography Of Rakim),” the rapper who most closely inspired Nas, is particularly touching.

The provocation of Hip Hop Is Dead.

In October 2005 he makes peace with Jay-Z and gets signed to the latter's Def Jam for a two-album deal: an agreement worth around 3 million dollars, not exactly a bad one. The eighth album, Hip Hop Is Dead (2006), mends the rift between East Coast and West Coast, bringing together the turn-of-the-millennium scene in a work that aims to take stock of the genre as the decade draws to a close. Guests range from ex-wife Kelis to the maximalist genius of Kanye West, by way of by-then-friend Jay-Z, pop-rapper will.i.am, and Dr. Dre's former prodigy Snoop Dogg, among others.

Looking closely, the Southern scene is completely absent, kept out of the picture and, according to some, even targeted on the album: southern hip-hop supposedly brought about the end of the genre, a simplification that would later be repeated more or less everywhere with the spread of trap. The fact remains that by the end of the decade there's a sense of change in the air, along with a sense of fatigue—a coexistence of factors typical of the end of an era.

It will be Kanye West himself, with “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” (2010), who marks the dividing line, with a landmark, ambitious work. Within a few years, the new rappers will surpass—both in critical consensus and commercial results—the more seasoned artists who had debuted in the nineties. Danny Brown's debut arrives in 2010, Kendrick Lamar's in 2011, Death Grips join in 2012, and so on.

Hip-hop isn't dead, but a generational changeover is underway, one that few old foxes will survive. Commenting on the title, Nas stated on Mtv.com:

“When I say hip-hop is dead, basically America is dead. There is no political voice. Music is dead... Our way of thinking is dead, our commerce is dead. Everything in this society has already been done. [...] If we don't change, we'll disappear like Rome. I think hip-hop can help rebuild America.”

Thanks in part to its provocative title, as well as its exceptional guest list, the album sparks debate and even goes platinum in the United States. The songs themselves, however, are merely dutiful examples of hip-hop, like “Money Over Bullshit” and “Carry On Tradition,” with “Hip Hop Is Dead” even dragging in Iron Butterfly. A bit of originality comes through in “Who Killed It?,” with its pompous, thriller-movie music, and in the subdued “Still Dreaming.”

The self-titled album, the collaborative Distant Relatives, and Life Is Good.

The ninth album, untitled but known as Nas (2008), reignites attention with social themes, stirring controversy from the choice of title alone, which could have been “Nigger.” It looks like an attempt to win back attention through provocation, at a difficult moment in his career.

It's a record built on classic sounds, which certainly reaffirms the belief that Nas is a master of flow, much as yet another album from Jay-Z or Eminem does, but none of these tracks will go down as highlights of his long career, and the political statements, like “Black President,” haven't aged well. The single “Hero,” bombastic and crowded with female vocals, is his negligible contribution to late-decade pop-rap.

Distant Relatives (2010) sees him team up with Damian Marley, in a fusion of hip-hop and reggae. A fun, eclectic work, which the two artists use to raise money for charity, in order to build schools in Africa.

For the most part, the fun lies in watching the back-and-forth between the two headliners, occasionally widened to include guests who are quite different from one another. “My Generation” brings in reinforcements from Joss Stone and Lil' Wayne, for a decidedly atypical and probably unrepeatable quartet.

A transitional work, one that reflects the new social and political weight of Nas's music, before Life Is Good (2012) marks his true return as a solo artist after a full four years. Album number eleven, written in the wake of his divorce from Kelis, shares the melancholy and reflectiveness of God's Son (2002) and returns, sonically too, to boom-bap and the golden age. Regarding the dominant themes of the album, Nas told Billboard:

“This album is about life, love and money. It's about the fact that marriage is expensive. [...] It represents the most beautiful, dramatic and heavy moments of my life” (our translation).

Now in his forties, Nas recounts his midlife crisis in his own inimitable way, after four years away from the scene, enlisting the help of some heavyweight guests, from Mary J. Blige to Amy Winehouse, from Large Professor to Rick Ross. He turns pessimistic, even bleak on “World’s An Addiction,” but more often he's simply and nostalgically looking back and taking stock. It seems like the ideal way to close out a career, but that turns out to be just an impression.

The personal, and far too brief, Nasir.

After a full six years, in 2018 comes Nasir, an album that, right from its title, aims to be his most personal. Produced by an unstoppable Kanye West, who slots it into a series of five weekly releases, it amounts to just 26 minutes of material across a mere 7 tracks.

Unlike Illmatic, this minimalism doesn't really pay off, and the scant material includes filler and minor moments, much as happens on West's own contemporaneous “ye,” which shares the same miniature format. What's more, the brevity this time is paired with a pomposity bordering on parody (“Not For Radio”) and a hyperactivity that tips into confusion (the relentless “Cops Shot The Kid”).

For the first time, critics roundly reject him: meanwhile, as we noted above, a new generation of hip-hop artists has emerged, making a work like this one feel obsolete, or simply paltry. In the year of Denzel Curry's “Ta13oo” and Travis Scott's “Astroworld,” not to mention Pusha-T's “Daytona,” part of the same release series as Nasir, the comparison is decidedly unflattering for the Queensbridge prodigy.

In 2019 more previously unreleased material arrives for completists, gathered on The Lost Tapes 2. It's a scattered, inconsistent compilation, but amid its shortcomings the talent of old still shines through, the same talent that, 25 years earlier, once changed the course of hip-hop.

The two trilogies of the renaissance: King's Disease and Magic.

When he returns with a studio album, King's Disease (2020), he opts for the format that suits him best: around forty minutes, a dozen tracks, and plenty of Nineties flavor in Hit-Boy's productions. Driving the tracks is his gift for interlocking rhymes and concepts, a puzzle of wordplay and unexpected connections that has always been his strength. The many guest spots help too: Anderson .Paak, A$AP Ferg, Big Sean, Dr. Dre, Brucie B, Charlie Wilson, Don Toliver, Fivio Foreign and Lil Durk. For the occasion, on “Full Circle” the elusive The Firm also reunite, the supergroup formed in the Nineties by Foxy Brown, Az and Cormega alongside Nas himself.

Of course, the days of neighborhood tales, realistic depictions of street dynamics, and even attempts to reinvent hip-hop are long gone. This time Nas simply does what the great rappers do best, recounting reality from his own point of view, blending the personal and the collective. He stumbles when he tries to modernize to the point of losing himself, as on “27 Summers” and “Til The War Is Won,” but overall he manages to put together his best album since Life Is Good (2012), reversing the dangerous downward spiral he'd embarked on with Nasir.

A year later he returns with his thirteenth album, King's Disease II, alongside a group of friends, some of considerable stature. Still, the real star remains his natural way of rapping and storytelling, an attitude towards storytelling that has few equals in the genre. Across these fifteen tracks, the owner of the masterpiece Illmatic seems to simply need to confirm that he's aging very well.

Stealing the show are two collaborative tracks: “EPMD 2,” with EPMD and Eminem, is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to witness a dream-team supergroup behind the mic; “Nobody,” with the return of the rapper-nightingale Lauryn Hill, 25 years after the gem “If I Ruled The World (Imagine That),” manages to craft a disillusioned version of that dreamy track.

Production duties fall mostly to Hit-Boy, who this time moves fluidly between contemporary touches and sophisticated, nostalgic sound constructions. The king may be a bit old and a bit sick, but he's still the king.

The moment is so positive that a Christmas gift arrives too, the brief Magic (2021): it's a masterclass of a show, with tracks like “Meet Joe Black” earning a place in his ideal hardcore anthology alongside new, mature reflections like “Ugly.” The chemistry with Hit-Boy is as rare as it gets.

Almost a year later comes King's Disease III. No guest spots on the mic this time, with the production continuing to range between contemporary touches and sweet Nineties nostalgia. The absolute star is Nas's rapping, hurtling towards his fifties yet still remarkably fluid, backed by three decades of experience in the field and a renewed sense of communicative urgency.

The 16 tracks plus bonus cuts add up to 57 minutes that, amid flashes of jazz-rap and chipmunk-soul samples, skipping piano figures and dramatic strings, old-school scratches and trap-style hi-hat barrages, deliver a Nas who sounds current without disowning his past. It's the close of a trilogy that plays like a rebirth, refined chapter after chapter.
What stands out is his embarrassingly effortless command of the beat, a mix of skill and musicality that demands open applause, as on “Ghetto Reporter,” gets you gloriously moving in time on “Legit,” or hammers your eardrums on the hardcore hip-hop of “Thun.” Nas can play Future's game and beat him at it (“30”) and then refresh the neighborhood anthems of a few decades ago (“Hood2Hood”): he hasn't stopped and he won't stop, as he states on “Recession Proof” (“New makes, new models/ I won’t let ‘em stop me”).
Perhaps the dominant theme isn't always perfectly focused or carried through with the same level of inspiration, but across the three chapters a revitalized rapper emerges, one you'd have been forgiven for expecting far less from, given the state of so many of his peers' careers, even younger ones.

The shorter Magic 2 (2023), again produced by Hit-Boy, mostly serves to certify this second youth of the rapper, in a less ambitious format. More than the mic agility, already on display from the opening "Abracadabra", this new and brief album is remembered for an unexpectedly successful collaboration with 50 Cent, a bridge between two different ways of telling street stories, emerged in two different periods of hip-hop's long history. But it's when he finds an obsessive beat like that of "Motion", between funereal tolls and dramatic strings, that Nas amazes with his ability to change delivery and flow, proving dynamic and flexible even on the threshold of fifty. Clearly he has nothing left to prove, and Magic 2 adds to the thriving creativity shown in recent years without upsetting anything in its premises or results.

Rounding out the streak of collaborations with Hit-Boy also comes Magic 3, also in 2023, which also celebrates the rapper's fiftieth birthday. The 15 new tracks, with Lil Wayne as the only guest on "Never Die", renew the now-consolidated formula of this second youth of Nas, balanced between classicism and contemporaneity. "Fever" polishes that ability to fly from verse to verse with ease, evoking the Nineties spirit with a sample from Illmatic: a space-time portal unites two different eras, meeting in the refined timbre of this hip-hop giant. It's a start that is, in its own way, symbolic, closing a circle that introduces more modern moments and amphibious tracks, which cite the Nineties while creatively reinterpreting them.

Throughout the tracklist Nas recounts his rediscovered creativity, looks back at the past with the wisdom of a fifty-year-old ("Sitting With My Thougts"), radiates good vibes ("I Love This Feeling"), goes back to telling stories of painful everyday life ("Based On True Events Pt. 2") and nails a track worthy of his best work like "No Tears": a march immersed in angelic choirs and heavenly synths serves as a backdrop to revisit violence and commemorate departed loved ones. At the end of the tracklist, "1-800-Nas&Hit" takes the time to celebrate this sextet of collaborative albums, closing a six-part saga with few parallels in hip-hop history.

As a Christmas gift to fans, in December 2025 Nas finally releases the collaborative album with legendary producer Dj Premier, awaited since at least 2006. Light-Years feels like a tribute to Nineties hip-hop, sparkling and fun ("GiT Ready"; "Shine Together"), occasionally dramatic ("NY State Of Mind Pt. 3"; "Junkie"), rarely creative. Nostalgia surfaces on "Sons (Young Kings)", made less trite by the intent to pay tribute to the whole scene rather than, more self-centeredly, to themselves. Still, it's a disappointment for those who waited twenty years for the joint album.

In 2018 Nielsen released the news that the r'n'b/hip-hop macro-genre is the most listened-to in the world. It has overtaken rock, which dominated in previous years, and seems destined to keep winning over mass audiences into the 2020s as well. To better understand the new soundtrack of the world, it's essential to retrace the history of its protagonists, among whom our own Nasir Bin Olu Dara Jones certainly deserves a place.

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