Grant JonesReviewing a Talib Kweli album is a fool’s errand, but here comes the latest clown’s opinion.
The baggage that now finds itself dragged around in the shadows of, let’s face it, one of Hip-Hop’s most celebrated artists, is a real shame that has been documented numerous times. It’s often easier to separate the art from the artist when their output differs from their personal shortcomings, but this album wears its self-righteous infallibility on its sleeve, at least for the first half of the record. The title alone reeks of an educator who can’t be educated, but once you finish the thirteen tracks, you’ll feel more confident knowing that Talib Kweli has finally re-captured that feeling you got from his earlier albums.
Let’s give this album some context. For the uninitiated, wondering what on earth I’m talking about, Talib Kweli is a thirty-year veteran of New York’s underground Hip-Hop scene who garnered mainstream affection in the early 2000s. You may have heard his popular singles “Get By”, and “The Blast”, or his flawless LP with Mos Def as Blackstar. Most likely, if you’re reading this website, you’re very familiar with his discography, which in my opinion, is often overlooked. Albums with Hi-Tek, Madlib, Dangermouse, Diamond D and 9th Wonder all demonstrate the calibre of rapper he is, but the last decade has seen his star wither, particularly if you follow his online presence. Accusations of bullying, antisemitism and sexual harassment have all overshadowed his musical output, and considering how lukewarm his last few albums were received, seems to have proven a distraction. Thankfully, he no longer uses social media, but in a recent podcast, he dives into the late 2010s when he was responding to any and every criticism. What surprised me was how he doubled down on his behaviour, even admitting that he enjoyed this period on social media when he was relentlessly replying to randoms, commenting on articles, and even reviewing critic’s reviews of his albums. This very public behaviour was something he has been heavily criticised for, and subsequently received social media account bans for, “I enjoy the endorphins you get from it”, he states.
This perception of him as a bully is something he defends profusely but doesn’t deny, deflecting any opinion that differs from his own. It’s a fascinating interview and solid journalism from Touré, continuously prodding Talib, who asks for proof of anything that goes against his own philosophies. Other journalists reported on these incidents, but because they didn’t document every individual interaction in these conversations (including two days of harassing a woman), he names and shames numerous outlets: Okayplayer, The Root, Rolling Stone, Slate, HipHopDX, Spin and The Huffington Post. The reason I bring this all back up, is because it feels relevant to the first six songs on “The Confidence of Knowing”. There’s a defiance and big-headedness to some of the rhymes that lands differently in the aftermath of all these social media antics, despite his bars being of the usual high quality.
“Breath, Eyes, Memory” sets the album off correctly, but encapsulates the Me vs. Them Mentality:
“Three cheers for your patience this was years in the making
I stripped the beard naked dodged the fears and the hatred
Let me peel back the layers, you’re only here for the greatness
I ain’t here to be your savior, you should save them tears for later
Now lets be clear, I wasn’t supposed to be here
I’m from the future like DeLorean, but ancient as Gregorian calendars
With the leap years, rappers fishier than seafare
Sensitive as bee hair, move along nothing to see here
These pop actions going flat like a can of soda
It’s a fact I keep it black while they white-washing like Sammy Sosa
The white supremacist’s nemesis I’ll be standing over
The corpses of all the corporate bosses cuz they can’t control us
They yelling Jaguar Wright I’m like, I prefer the Land Rover
Plus that cougar wrong and a man know it“
Talib Kweli has always been opinionated, but there’s an underlying petulance to many of his verses. The pro-black messaging is healthy, necessary and particularly welcome from an emcee that’s well-read. Considering how divided the United States is at the moment, I wish there were more rappers like Kweli. The problem here is the execution – there’ll be something interesting or eye-opening that Kweli will talk about, and then undo it with a random jab. Even on the cipher with Coast Contra (“SWAT”) he can’t help but throw a dig to his fans and critics “You’d rather be in the comments than the one they commenting on”. Tristate stomps all over “We Outside” with a plethora of alliteration, seemingly off-topic on first-listen but is a welcome diversion from Kweli rapping about people staying online. He’s at it again on “Turnstyle” – (“Talking online with your fingers without the gang signs”) – ironic considering Buckshot features, who spends more time shilling NFTs and bitcoin these days, than making music.
The first half of the album is littered with reactionary rhymes and continued defence to his online detractors that can distract from some satisfying Hip-Hop, but this completely dissipates after the Ras Kass collaboration “Shalamar”. The last five tracks are more traditional Talib Kweli records and they are better for it. As a wordy lyricist, he excels when partnered with a female vocalist, not only to help balance his lecture-like verses with some lighter energy, but it seems to calm him down. It’s soulful, genuine, human, and universally magnetic, something Kweli sometimes forgets are his biggest assets. Kweli can be a likeable personality on the mic, and has been for many years.
Kweli has a lot to say, but I can’t overlook the excellent work of J. Rawls here. He produced “Brown Skin Lady” for Blackstar back in 1998, and his production here is very much of that ilk, clearly influenced by Hi-Tek’s Reflection Eternal output.
“Pay Homage” captures the magic found on Strong Arm Steady albums and mixtapes from nearly two decades ago, including standout verses from Planet Asia and Phil Da Agony. The world needs more music from Phil Da Agony. This track isn’t just a fun collaboration, but it’s a pivot that shifts this album into more rewarding rap.
This is an album soaked in irony, which isn’t lost on this listener. By learning more about artists from following them online, it has ultimately had a detrimental effect on my perception of this album. If you’re less aware of the online activity of rappers, I think this album may hit differently, but it’s hard to ignore many of these lines when so much information is available about Kweli outside of his music. Most people checking for Talib Kweli albums nowadays will already be Talib Kweli fans, so it’s just something to consider when listening.
The love songs are often his most fruitful, and Kweli’s best work occurs when he lifts others up, rather than punches others down. “Love For Life” with Georgia Anne Muldow and Jimetta Rose is atypical of a good Talib Kweli song – it practices what it preaches. Great black music. I would also emphasise that Kweli is better when he’s not firing off bars at listeners on his own, because the Blackstar member has always had a flow that’s unrefined and baggy, with some lines hurriedly delivered. This is prevalent throughout, but comes with the territory, although if you’re not a fan of how Kweli raps already, you’re unlikely to change your tune after listening to “The Confidence of Knowing”. I thought “It’s Workin'” was another song that I’ll keep revisiting, and it even sounds like a lost Blackstar instrumental.
Following this album, Kweli has an album with Bun B, and another with Large Professor coming in 2025, but this record with J Rawls feels like a line has been drawn. By addressing his controversies, and shifting his focus away from negative energy on the first half, towards positivity on the second half, I feel like he successfully navigates listeners through all the noise that surrounds his personality, on record at least. When he’s attacking systems and corporations, rather than random members of the public and his own fanbase, his grounded storytelling connects more with the listener because you believe his intentions are well-meaning, instead of nasty. It’s a careful line to navigate, but one that I think many rap fans can get by, and if you can, you’ll enjoy one of his best albums in a long time.