Happy 25th Anniversary to Jay-Z’s debut album Reasonable Doubt, originally released June 25, 1996.
It would be an exaggeration to say that the first time I saw Shawn “Jay-Z” Carter on his grind, I knew he’d be a star. But years later, after he’d fashioned himself as one the most beloved and commercially successful emcees ever, I’ve periodically looked back on that spring night in 1995, and thought, “Yeah, this all makes sense.”
It was a late night in the late spring of 1995, just after the Penn Relays concert. I was a sophomore at the University of Pennsylvania at the time, and every year, in the midst of the Penn Relays track event, the school would host a concert that featured some of the biggest hip-hop acts. That year, the show was headlined by Method Man, but acts like O.C. and Mic Geronimo were also on the bill. A then mostly unknown Jay-Z was curtain-jerking that night, going on first. I’m pretty sure the only reason a Brooklyn resident was on the bill was due to his affiliation with Mic Geronimo and DJ Irv (now known as Irv Gotti).
For whatever reason, the 1995 concert was the only Penn Relays show that I didn’t attend while at Penn. But that didn’t stop my housemates and me from deciding to hang out in front of the venue after the concert was over to peep the scene and try to pop at the women in attendance.
As I milled around the crowd, I came across Jay-Z and crew posted up, handing out free CDs of “In My Lifetime,” his first solo single. The collective may have been standing in front of an early version of their “Buggy Eyed Benz,” an E-Class 190 Mercedes that the then fledging label would use to promote Jay-Z’s music. I couldn’t swear to it, but I’m fairly certain Damon “Dame” Dash handed me the CD, which I still have in my possession. The person I for sure did recognize was Jonathan “Big Jaz” (or just The Jaz or Jaz-O) Burks, who’d released a few projects in the late 1980s/early 1990s, and who was the first artist to put Jay-Z on a record.
During my many years going to hip-hop shows, I’ve seen all sorts of rappers standing in front of the venue trying to sell their wares to passers-by. But it stuck with me that after a show in front of an audience of at least a couple of thousand, Jay-Z and crew went immediately back on their grind, handing out free CDs in the hopes of growing his fanbase.
It had been a long journey for Jay even up to that particular late evening/early morning, and it would be a little longer still before his debut album, Reasonable Doubt, would be recorded and released. Twenty-five years after it first hit shelves, the album endures as one of Jay-Z’s most beloved. Personally, it’s probably my second favorite album of his, though it ranks #1 for many people, including Jay-Z.
I’ll spare you the blow-by-blow description of how Jay-Z came up through the underground, formed Roc-A-Fella Records with Dame Dash and Kareem “Biggs” Burke, and recorded Reasonable Doubt. The Breaking Atoms podcast is in the midst of doing an excellent job at that in their own series celebrating the anniversary of the album’s release. I recommend it if you have the chance to check it out.
It’s interesting to note that Reasonable Doubt presents Jay-Z as an artist fully formed. There aren’t a lot of “Started from the bottom, now we’re here” tales on the album. We enter Jay-Z’s story in media res, after he’s paid his dues, is battle-tested and confident, and ready to ascend into superstardom. In that way, the album has a lot in common with The D.O.C.’s No One Can Do It Better (1989), mixed with the sharp observational skills of contemporaries like Nas and The Notorious B.I.G.
Jay-Z’s self-assured attitude is reflected in the album’s working title, which was Heir to the Throne. Somewhere during the recording process, Jay-Z switched gears and decided to name the project Reasonable Doubt. This choice was reportedly inspired by the lengthy trial of OJ Simpson, which was ending while Jay was recording the album. Jay-Z, Dame, and the crew began to envision Reasonable Doubt as a concept album, with Jay being on trial for being the illest lyricist in the game. Though that idea was also scrapped, you can hear occasional allusions to the concept throughout Reasonable Doubt.
Jay-Z enlisted a whole host of producers for Reasonable Doubt, but the album’s musical soul, mind, and heart came from DJ Clark Kent and Ski, and DJ Premier. Clark Kent is a legendary DJ and former A&R at Atlantic Records. He’d been a staunch advocate for Jay’s talents for years, placing him on many features for projects by Atlantic artists. One of these collaborators included Original Flavor, a group that featured the talents of rapper/producer Ski. DJ Premier had known Jay-Z from the days when Gang Starr was signed to Wild Pitch. Furthermore, much of Reasonable Doubt was recorded at the hallowed D&D studios, Preemo’s frequent base of operations throughout the 1990s.
Despite the trio defining the project’s overall sound, Reasonable Doubt opens with a track that’s not produced by any of those three. Instead, Jay-Z makes his opening statement with “Can’t Knock the Hustle,” a mid-tempo collaboration with Mary J. Blige, produced by Knowbody and Sean C. The song is an ode to Jay-Z’s transition from street hustler to rapper, enjoying himself as he finds a new field to master. “I got extensive hoes with expensive clothes,” he raps. “And I sip fine wines and spit vintage flows / What, y’all don’t know?”
Jay-Z has always been a skilled lyricist, extremely capable at kicking punchlines and battle raps. The song “22 Twos,” based on a routine he’d frequently kick at live events or radio appearances, demonstrates his sharp pen game. However, it’s the psychological depth and arresting imagery that gets a lot of the attention a quarter of a century after Reasonable Doubt’s release. Jay-Z’s flashes of humor and calm demeanor while delivering tales of rough street reality also make the album unique.
You can see the contrast in two different tracks produced by DJ Premier. Jay delves deep into the corrupting influences of capitalism on the “D’Evils,” finding himself consumed with the pursuit of monetary wealth, while aware of the damage that he’s doing to his own psyche and his community. Meanwhile, he displays an entirely different face on the brief “Friend or Foe,” scolding a group of criminal upstarts hoping to move in on his territory. He delivers the entire monologue with a smirk, granting mercy, but warning that further trespasses will be met with bloody retribution.
Jay splits the difference on “Feelin’ It,” the album’s fourth single and one of its most popular entries. He waxes philosophical about his role in the drug game, but does so with a unique, almost care-free panache. Producer Ski later disclosed he originally intended to use the beat himself for a planned solo album. He already recorded a version with him and Geechi Suede of Camp Lo rhyming over the track. Jay heard the track and offered to buy the beat from him on the spot, and Ski agreed.
As dope as I’m sure the original version of the song was, Jay-Z is in near perfect form on “Feelin’ It.” He kicks effortless braggadocio with lines like, “We paid the price to circle us, success, they turned my mic up / I’m about to hit these n****s with some shit that’ll light ya life up.” However, he uses the remainder of the track to describe the stress involved in moving narcotics across state lines, as well as the relief that smoking marijuana provides him.
Jay-Z envisioned “Dead Presidents,” the album’s first single, as the track that would make Reasonable Doubt break big time. He released a version of the track on a 12” through his Roc-A-Fella Records imprint. Eventually, after Roc-A-Fella signed a distribution deal with Priority Records, he updated the song and re-released it “Dead Presidents II” featuring new lyrics. I honestly couldn’t tell you which version I prefer. The song is still resonant 25 years later. Ski has said he was inspired by the piano-driven beat for Nas’ “The World Is Yours,” sampling Lonnie Liston Smith’s melancholy piano work from “Garden of Peace.” It’s an ideal soundscape for Jay to somberly reflect on the pursuit of money, and the violence and death that frequently surrounds it.
“Can I Live,” produced by DJ Irv, is another more serious-minded highlight. Over a sample of Isaac Hayes’ “The Look of Love,” Jay-Z methodically expounds on his work ethic as both a hustler and an emcee, knowing that his focus will lead him to success in both fields. Jay is in a zone throughout the song, delivering what is arguably his overall strongest performance on the album. “Expectation for dips, for precipitation we stack chips, hardly,” he raps. “The youth I used to be, soon to see a million / No more Big Willie, my game has grown; prefer you call me William.”
With all of the somber ruminations throughout Reasonable Doubt, Jay-Z allows himself to cut loose on tracks where he collaborates with other artists, as sharing the spotlight allows him to be a little more relaxed on the mic. Jay seems like he’s having fun throughout his verses on “Ain’t No N***a,” the album’s biggest hit. At the behest of Heavy D, the song was put on the B-side of the “Dead Presidents II” single, but took on a life of its own, scorching the east coast mixtape circuit during the spring of 1996. Even the buzz inspired Jay-Z to release it as the album’s second single.
Part of “Ain’t No N***a’s” success has to do with the beat, a complex sampling job and beat construction by Big Jaz, who uses elements from The Whole Darn Family’s “Seven Minutes of Funk.” Another component of the song’s appeal is the closing verse by the young Foxy Brown. She had first appeared on the remix to LL Cool J’s “I Shot Ya” on the Mr. Smith (1995) album, but her appearance here rocketed her to fame. Jay-Z’s certainly no slouch on the mic on this track, rapping, “I’ve been sinning since you been playing with Barbie and Ken and / You can’t change a player's game in the 9th inning.”
“Brooklyn’s Finest,” Jay-Z’s boisterous duet with Notorious B.I.G., is one of the best-known songs on Reasonable Doubt. Originally recorded as a solo track, it’s always been an odd concoction, as Clark Kent sampled a strange section of Ohio Players’ “Ecstasy,” filled with vocal yelps and a slightly off-beat piano. Jay-Z apparently met Biggie for the first time in the studio when the ascending Bad Boy came in to record the track. The two do display chemistry together as they trade short verses. The two Brooklyn kings hit it off while recording the song, and Jay ended up inviting Biggie to the video shoots for both “Dead Presidents” and “Ain’t No N***a.” Their friendship would help define much of Jay’s future career.
“Coming of Age” introduced the hip-hop world to Memphis Bleek, who would become a prominent artist on Roc-A-Fella moving forward. Jay-Z originally envisioned the track as a team-up with him and Shyheim, a noted Wu-Tang Clan affiliate, but they weren’t able to align their schedules. As it stands, it’s an incredibly inventive story rap that outlines the dynamic between a wizened O.G. (Jay) and a young up-and-comer who he takes under his wing, outlining both of their perspectives before they eventually link up in the final verse. Jay reportedly wrote the entire track, but Bleek is a skilled rapper on his own, and his lively personality gives the track an authentic edge.
The Clark Kent-produced “Cashmere Thoughts” is an underappreciated entry on Reasonable Doubt. Though The Source featured Jay’s verse in their “Rhyme of the Month” column, too often I see it listed as the worst track on the album. Personally, I’ve always loved it. Some of it’s because I’m always a sucker for a beat featuring the watery piano and guitar sample from Bohannon’s “Save Their Souls.”
Clark Kent has revealed the song was originally supposed to be part of a project for The Hard Pack, a supergroup he had put together that included Jay, Jaz, Sauce Money, and Bleek, amongst others. On that particular song, Jay was to be joined by Jaz and Sauce Money, who would all rap using their pimp alter-egos. However, Jaz and Sauce Money never got a chance to record their own verses, leaving only Jay-Z, a.k.a. Cashmere Jones, to spit some fly player shit. “Eighteen-carat gold pen when it hits the sheets,” he raps. “Words worth a million like I’m rapping them through platinum teeth / I got the Grey Poupon, you been warned / ’Cause all beef return well done filet mignon.”
Both Big Jaz and Sauce Money do contribute to Reasonable Doubt, the pair joining on “Bring It On,” likely the best song on the album. According to Dash in an interview with MTV.com, Nas and AZ were originally supposed to appear on the track, but kept no-showing at the studio. As a result, Jay engaged in what he considered a friendly competition with Jaz and Sauce to see who could kick the best verse.
I’m still not convinced that there’s a clear winner, as Jay moves with the “mannerisms of a young Bobby DeNiro” and Sauce carries “money flaring like nostrils for drug dealing apostles.” Big Jaz’s verse may be the tightest, as he combines a twisting flow with complex imagery, as he raps, “You suck pistol like pipe with the crystal / John Stockton couldn't assist you.” Also, his delivery of “Whatever, n***a, Fahrvergnügen” is one of hip-hop best non-sequiturs. The beat is one of DJ Premier’s best creations, flaunting an incredibly ill string loop. A quarter of a century later, and even the most avid beat diggers have yet to discover what Premier sampled on the track.
I don’t have to tell anyone the heights that Jay-Z did indeed go on to in the quarter-century since Reasonable Doubt was released. I’ve written tributes to many of his releases for Albumism. He’s earned a place in the pantheon of hip-hop legends, and quite a few of them maintain that he’s the great rapper of all-time.
I also remember that in April 1996, Jay-Z performed at his second Penn Relays concert in a row. This time he was the second act on the bill, opening up for other acts like The Fugees, The Lost Boyz, and the Boot Camp Click. I was in attendance this time around, so I remember most of the set: he opened with “22 Twos,” then went on to “Dead Presidents.” He received the biggest reaction during his set when he brought out Foxy Brown for “Ain’t No N***a” to finish things up, cementing just how big the song was becoming.
Jay-Z did give it his all that night in front of a mostly packed crowd. Afterwards, I didn’t see him on the street in front of the venue. It was a couple of months before Reasonable Doubt dropped, and he didn’t need to hand out free CD singles anymore. Besides, he was finally at the point where he could leave the promo to the proper street teams.
Reasonable Doubt is far from Jay-Z’s biggest hit record. Many point out that it was certified Gold at the time of its release, not going platinum until years later. The general critical consensus upon its release was that it was a very good album, but not quite in the realm of greatness. The album’s legend has grown over the last quarter-century, as its themes have helped shape many of Jay’s albums that came afterwards.
It’s very clear how dear Jay-Z himself holds Reasonable Doubt. Throughout his now lengthy career, he has continued to champion the project as his best and most important work. The raw power and honesty of Jay’s sentiments have not been diluted by time, still giving the worldwide audience an inkling of what Jay was going to offer the music world in the years to come.
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