Dissect - MX1E1 - "The Climb Back" by J Cole

Episode Date: April 4, 2023

Our "Lyrical Masters" mixtape kicks off with a line-by-line analysis of J Cole's 2020 track "The Climb Back." For clues on what artist and song we're dissecting next week, follow @dissectpodcast on Instagram. Host, writer: Cole Cuchna Producer: Justin Sayles Audio Editing: Kevin Pooler Theme Music: Birocratic Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The most important thing Jay Cole learned in high school was how to climb mountains. A passionate basketball player with dreams of one day making the NBA, Cole tried out for his high school's JV team as a freshman and was cut from the team. He blew it off arrogantly, believing it was their mistake, making no effort to improve his game. The next year, he tried out again, and again, he didn't make the cut. This time, the rejection was a reality check, and so for the first time in his life, Cole legitimately worked on his craft, spending his off-season in the gym, doing drills, staying disciplined.

His junior year, Cole made the team, but he didn't get much playing time, so once again he spent his offseason working. His senior year, not only did he make the team, he was named a starter. Reflecting on this experience, Cole wrote, quote, this accomplishment might seem insignificant to most,

but for me, it may have been the key that unlocked the rest of my life. It was proof to myself that I could climb mountains. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the story of a young man who left everyone and everything he loved to chase his dream. A little nigga from North Carolina, Fair Nile to be exact.

Packed up all his shit and moved to the big city of dreams. Well, he ain't no a motherfucking soul. And he ain't have a motherfucking thing. Just a dollar in a dream. Jay Cole would eventually put basketball on the back burner to pursue an equally lofty dream, becoming a hip-hop superstar. After moving from North Carolina to New York,

Cole made a name for himself with his debut mixtape to come up. Not unlike his naive assumption of making the JV team, Cole felt it was only a matter of time until he got signed. Meanwhile, he was broke and partying too much. And I was kind of being complacent because I had crazy music and I was kind of chilling, like as if that was good enough to get me to where I needed to go. And I had a realization. One time, nigga, I'm in a party. I'm drunk and I'm high. So I had to leave the party and go to the backyard. So I'm back there paranoid like, oh my God, like, nigga, I'm going through it. Nick, life is on me, nigga, rent. And these niggas walk in the backyard come find me, and they're like,

yo, we want to hollets you right quick. Bro, it turned into an intervention. These niggas was like, hey, bro, what you doing? You say you want to do this music shit, but all you doing is really just like hanging out, partying this shit. And at this point, I'm 21 years old, you know what I mean, 22? And I'm like, nigga, why you didn't make it a basketball? Because you wasn't fucking working.

Once again, Cole got to work. He spent 12 hours a day writing verses and making beats, staying disciplined. The result was another mixtape, the warm-up. Its lead single Lights Please caught the ear of Cole's idol Jay Z, who signed him to his first major label record deal. Jay Cole had climbed another mountain. By his third studio album 2014 Forest Hills Drive, Cole had not only made the team, he was a multi-time all-star starter. Forrest Hills Drive was his third album to debut at number one. He broke the Spotify record for most streams in a week.

He was selling out venues across the world and he had been nominated for multiple Grammys. But shortly after Cole arrived home from tour in 2016, he began to notice a change. The top of the mountain he'd climb was no longer a peak. It was becoming a plateau. This past five years has been a fight against comfort. This is the moment a lot of your favorite rappers hit a crossroad where they did what the fuck they set out to do,

and then the fruits of their labor started working against them. That same energy and that same passion they put into the craft was gone and it was replaced by. by like comfort and luxury. Cole had grown accustomed to the altitude. By his own admission, he'd become uninspired, no longer caring about punchlines and witty lyricism the way he did when writing those early mixtapes

and proving himself to the world. I had to make a real decision. Are you okay with getting comfortable, chilling, mailing it in? If this is as high as you ever got, not career success-wise, but from a skill level, did you leave no stone unturned creatively? And when I thought about that feeling, I was like, no, I'm not cool with that. And so Cole did the only thing he knew how.

He embodied the mindset of the offseason. He built a studio in the basement of his house and went to work, writing verses, making beef, staying disciplined. Through the power of his own mental manipulation, Cole transformed the plateau into the base of an even taller mountain. And he was ready to climb. From Spotify, I'm Cole Kushna and this is Dissect, long-form musical analysis broken into short digestible episodes.

Welcome to our first ever mixtape series, where we'll be dissecting one song from a different artist every episode. This mixtape's theme is Lyrical Masters, exploring some of hip-hop's most gifted lyricists. Today, we're kicking things off with Jay Cole's 2020 song, The Climbled. Jay Cole's attempt to reinvigorate his passion for rap resulted in 2021's The Offseason, a self-described master class in preparation. The Climback was the project's first single, released in July of 2020, a tumultuous summer that found America entrenched in a global pandemic, reckoning with the racially motivated killings of Amad Arbery,

Brianna Taylor, and George Floyd. The self-produced track begins with an excerpt of John Hider's The Taoist Leadership, a book that applies Chinese Taoist principles of simplicity and natural harmony to modern leadership. Are you doing this work to facilitate growth or to become famous? Which is more important? Acquiring more possessions or becoming more conscious? Which works better? Getting or letting go?

There's a problem with owning a lot. There's a problem with getting more and more. The more you have and the more you get, the more you have to look after, and the more you might lose. Is that owning or being owned? But if you give up things, you can give up spending your life looking after them.

True to Taoism, this excerpt offers simplicity as a solution to self-imposed stress, underscoring the ego-driven motivations of acquiring more and more, be it material possessions or recognition. Cole took pieces from this passage to create this. Are you doing this work to facilitate growth or to become famous? Which is more important? Getting or letting go?

Understanding the context of the climb back, we could see how these questions would resonate with Cole, as his artistic growth had become hamstrung by the comforts of fame and fortune. In order to grow again, he had to let go of those comforts and return to his mentality when he had nothing. There's also the entirety of Cole's career arc to consider. as the off-season is ultimately considered by Cole a preparation for his final album, The Fall Off. The question between getting or letting go, thus articulates Cole at a crossroads between him getting a music career and now preparing to let go of it. Beyond its personal implications, citing the Tao of leadership in the midst of heated national protests and collective chaos feels like a potent offering of historic wisdom aimed at American leaders during this time. Donald Trump was a president who many felt desired the presidential title more for his own ego and personal fame,

than his belief in his ability to lead the country. In 2020 specifically, a poll found that nearly two-thirds of Americans believe Trump was doing more to divide the nation than united. Fittingly, Taoism's foundational text, the Tao Dijing, was first written as an attempt to restore harmony in a Chinese kingdom riddled with widespread disorders and chaos. The climbback's opening gesture, first presented in the turmoil of 2020, can be heard both as an indictment of Trump's leadership

and a suggestion to embrace the egoist principles of Taoism in order to restore harmony in America's own time of crisis. Now after the opening sample, the climbback launches into its main instrumental, produced by Cole himself. The track's central sample is sourced from a 1974 song called I'm So in Love With You by Brief Encounter. This excerpt is chopped, pitched up, and time stretched to create this eight-bar loop. In this rendition of the sample, the lyrics appear to say, You can do anything I can do. This thematic undercurrent will sustain throughout the entirety of the same.

song's five-minute duration, a constant reminder that any boast Cole makes about himself is also attainable by his listeners. Behind this main sample, Cole programs a rhythmically ambiguous drum pattern. While the snare drum falls predictably on the third beat of each four-beat measure, the kick drums are unpredictably placed across an eight-beat pattern, creating a fluid, slow-motion groove that lacks a concrete foundation. in a while, but how long will it take for you smile? This is that comeback to light shit. My niggas pick me up and we gonna light the city up as if the sun had a nice shit.

And painting town red for my nigger found there too soon. Yeah. Cole begins the song's hook, everything come back around full circle. Once again with the clear understanding of the song's context, the opening line describes Cole's desire to rekindle the fire he had early in his career. Here we notice some clever wordplay with comeback, a hybrid of the come-up, his debut mixtape and the climbback, the song attempting to return to the come-up's artistic drive. This fulfills the literal definition of full circle, which is a series of developments that

lead back to the original source position or situation. The symbol of a circle also maintains the motif of Chinese philosophy established at the song's start. A central symbol used in Taoism and other Eastern religions is yin yang, where an outer circle represents the primordial universe, which is divided into two halves by a curved line. One half of the circle is black, representing the inside, the other is white for the Yang side. A circular dot of the opposing color sits within each half. Broadly speaking, yin yang, dark and light, represents the duality of opposite and equal qualities forming a whole. Whenever one quality reaches its peak, it will naturally begin to transform into the opposite quality. The Tao De Ching describes a concept this way. When people see things as

beautiful, ugliness is created. When people see things as good, evil is created. Being and non-being produce each other, difficult and easy, compliment each other, long and short, define each other, high and low, oppose each other. Its clear Cole was intentionally tapping into these dualities, as he continues the chorus highlighting opposites. He wraps, why do lies sound pleasant, but the truth hurtful? Everybody got a cry once and a while, but how long will it take before you smile? These observational questions seem purposefully open-ended, encouraging individual exploration and meditation. The first question about the seemingly contradictory experience of lies being more pleasurable than truth is at its heart a question about a perception of

reality versus reality itself. Often we consciously or unconsciously bend our perception of reality to meet our desires or expectations, to make us feel better about ourselves, or even justify behavior we know deep down to be wrong. These fabricated realities provide escape or comfort in the short term, but inevitably come crashing down when we no longer can outrun the truth, forcing us to climb. One of the main goals of Taoism is stripping oneself of ego and desire that cause these problematic misconceptions in order to observe and become one with the true nature of the universe, avoiding the crash that facilitates the need for the climb back in the first place. Col then continues rapping, this is that comeback to life shit. Again, it seems he's

being self-referential about his return to music and resurrecting his passion for rapping. But of course, he's still playing with universal dichotomies, life and death. Within the consistent, Easter motif, comeback to life is a play on reincarnation, a fundamental concept in many Eastern religions. Then for the first time, Cole gets more specific, rapping, My N-Words pick me up, and we go and light the city up as if the sun had the night shift. The duality here is light and dark, day and night. Cole's friends picking him up as a play on the previous comeback to life, as if he's symbolically being picked up off the ground or from out of a casket. Cole's also literally being picked up by his friends in a car so they can go light the city up or party on

He then adds a bit of a twist at the end of the chorus saying, And Paint the Town Red for my N-word found dead too soon. Paint the Town Red usually refers to a spree of some kind, most often a night out partying with friends, which continues the theme of the previous line. But we're forced a second-guess's interpretation when we understand that the motivation here is the untimely death of a black man. Given the cultural climate at the time of this song's release,

we can't help but think of the murder of George Floyd under the knee of a white police officer. In this context, lighting the city up and painting the town red, likely refers to the protests that occurred in the wake of Floyd's death, where buildings were lit on fire and cities were torn up in outrage over the continual abuse and systemic oppression of the black community. Now, there's additional layers to this chorus, layers that will become clearer once we hear more of what Cole has to say. Yeah, to the left of that decimal, I need seven figures to play the joint. Turn up your decibels, peep-pie decimeter joint. Check all my projects like the workers that section 8.

Coal's rectorly My niggas shoot first is if they never played the point More two guards, enough traps to fill for you haws. Cole's revitalized drive for punchlines and wordplay is immediately put on display in the verses opening moments. He wraps, To the left of that decimal, I need seven figures to play the joint. With a decimal point being the dividing mark between dollars and cents,

seven figures to the left of it denotes a million dollar figure, the starting price for Cole to play the joint or perform live at a venue. Notice the quick internal rhyme at the first syllables in left and decimal, le and de. There's also what we might call a ghost rhyme, as Cole refers to a decimal point, and despite not actually saying the word point,

he still creates a rhyme with it in joint. He continues, turn up your decibels, peep how I decimate to joint. Notice both the internal rhyme and the alliteration of decimal, decibles, and decimate, while maintaining the music motif.

With decibels relating to volume levels, Cole telling us to turn up our decibels is a clever way to say, listen closely. The rapid internal rhymes allow Cole to rhyme joint with joint in two successive lines without it feeling lazy or repetitive. In this second use of joint, he's now referring to a song, boasting his ability to decimate or destroy the track. He continues the analogy, check out my projects like them workers that Section 8 appoints. Section 8 housing, also known as the projects, are federally subsidized houses for low-income families, who might also have social workers making visits to these houses. Cole, of course, creates a double entendre with projects,

referring to his musical projects full of joints he's decimated. Notice how he maintains the double rhyme scheme, as Section 8 rhymes with decimate, while a points rhymes with joint. He then punctuates this opening quatrain with an actual punctuation mark, saying you'll see how I flipped like exclamation points. Here we get the elusive quadruple entendre with the word flipped. First, it continues the housing motif, as in flipping houses or turning a profit by buying a property for cheap and selling it for more,

typically after renovations. This reading is then a boast about Cole's ability to make something out of nothing, finding success through his musical ability. Second, Flip refers to flipping a sample, a phrase used to describe when a producer transforms an excerpt of a pre-existing song by creatively incorporating it into their original production. If we were to check out Cole's projects like he asked, we would find that he self-produced many of his own tracks, including this one, where he literally flips a sample. Third, flip refers to flipping out, referring to Cole's ability to spaz out lyrically on a track. Finally, the fourth layer is a literal play on the lowercase letter I, which, when flipped upside down, becomes an exclamation point, the symbol used to

express passion or excitement, referring to Cole's decimating explosive wraps. The nuance wordplay doesn't end here, as he continues, my N-words shoot first as if they never played the point, more two guards. Cole begins a basketball analogy, contrasting a point guard, the pass first position that orchestrates a team, with the score first position two guard, also known as a shooting guard. The play here is that Cole's friends are quick to shoot or pull the trigger of a gun, rather than assess the situation like a point guard assessing the floor and making sound decisions. This gives way to the line, enough straps to fill four U-Hauls. On the surface, this is a claim that his shooters have enough weapons to fill multiple large

U-haul trucks, with straps slaying for guns, being a play on ratchet straps used to secure cargo inside moving trucks. But Phil Four, as in Phil Four U-Hauls, seems to be a homophone for Phil Ford, an all-American basketball player who played for the tar heels in J. Cole's home state of North Carolina. Fittingly, Phil Ford played point guard. We also recognize that in four of these first six lines of the verse, Cole has included a number. There was seven figures, section eight, two guards, and four U-halls. Given how intricately crafted these lines have been, we suspect these numbers might signify something, and it turns out they do. Working backwards, we find that if we combine the two and the four in the basketball analogy, we get 24, the number Kobe Bryant

wore in the second half of his career. Just six months prior to the climbback's release, Bryant tragically died in a helicopter crash, so the knot here feels like an appropriate homage. Of course, Kobe was a shooting guard, tying in perfectly to the line's two guard motif. This revelation clues us into the meaning behind the eight in Section 8, as Kobe wore the number eight. As Kobe wore the number in the first half of his career. But what about the first number, seven? This one isn't so obvious. That is, until we combine it with the eight to get 78,

signifying the year Kobe was born, 1978. They never played the point, more two guards, enough straps to fill for you haws, more depth than World War II calls around these parks. We pour the brown just to drown these thoughts of black corpses in county malls, Lord. Those images haunting, I ain't been to sleep yet. It's 10 in the morning, I'm sending a warning.

with me is like the BET Hip Hop Awards. I'm starting to see you niggas don't want it. I'm sick of this plunting from niggas I know for show ain't got more dough than Cole. Trash rappers, ass backers trying to go tow to toe. We laugh at you. Staff strapped up on top the totem pole to blast at you. Bassmasters, look how they told the pole.

Gotta know the ropes in a protocol. Or they going for show blow your clothes half off like a promo code. Continuing to refer to his friends with a shoot-first mentality, Cole continues to verse rapping, more death than World War II caused. It appears to be a comment on gun violence, pointing to the fact that since 1968, more Americans have died from gunfire than died in all the wars in American history combined. Coldon paints a sobering image saying,

Around these parts, we pour the brown just to drown these thoughts of black corpses in county morgues. Brown here refers to brown liquor being poured out in memory of a dead friend or family member, a symbolic act that originated in 80s and 90s hip-hop culture. But we can actually trace this practice back to the ancient Egyptians, who would commemorate the dead by pouring a small amount of water on the floor, with water being a symbol of eternal life. At the same time, saying that they pour brown just to drown these thoughts, describes drinking as a coping mechanism to numb the pain and trauma of witnessing and grieving so many deaths.

This emotional and psychological weight keeps cold up at night as he says, Lord, these images haunting, I ain't been asleep yet, it's 10 in the morning. He's essentially describing flashbacks, consistent with symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD. This continues the war motif, as PTSD is commonly associated with war veterans. However, recent research shows that African Americans experience PTSD at a higher rate than any other ethnic group, and there's a growing body of evidence suggesting that black people may experience a specific type of PTSD called race-based traumatic stress, which is induced by repeatedly witnessing traumatic events in person and via social media. This research shows that racial trauma is expressed in many forms and often includes the same hypervigilance, increased aggression,

and sensitivity to threats as traditional PTSD. However, similar to war veterans originally being resistant to the idea of PTSD out of fear of being perceived as weak, a 1998 study found that 63% of African Americans viewed mental health as a sign of weakness, a mentality particularly prominent in older generations. In an article on PTSD and African Americans, R Weekly spoke to an ex-gang member who described a similar mentality, saying, quote,

PTSD affects a lot of people I used to run the streets with, Sometimes when I'm sleeping at night, I can see the faces of the people I've hurt. I can hear them trying to negotiate for their life, asking me for mercy. It's also hard to spend time with my daughter outside because I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, just in case an N-word recognizes me from back in the day and wants to get revenge. I'm thinking of seeing a therapist or something, but N-words like me ain't built to get emotional with nobody, unquote. In Cole's next line, we hear a similar resistance to vulnerability, as he follows his admission of sleepless nights caused by anxiety and flashbacks by saying,

I'm sending a warning, a problem with me is like the BET Hip-Up Awards. I'm starting to see that you N-words don't want it. Kohl's momentary expression of vulnerability triggers him to present a rugged, hard-shell exterior, lashing out preemptively and threatening his perceived opposition. In clinical terms, this feels like hypervigilance, or the state of being highly or abnormally alert to potential danger or threat. The specific reference to the BET Awards plays up the ceremony's general lack of public interest, which in 2021 hit an all-time low in viewership. Cole compares this lack of interest to

his opposition's lack of interest in challenging him. He continues the boast in the next lines. I'm sick of this flaunting from N-words I know for sure ain't got more dough than Cole. Trash rappers, ass backwards, trying to go toe-to-to-to-we laugh. Cole here makes a joke that his competitors are trying to go toe-to-to-to-to-go-to-but, yet they are standing ass-backwards, not toe-to-to-but, an image that makes him laugh. Notably, Cole makes clear his agreement. aggression is meant for his colleagues in rap, so his threats are metaphoric. This leads to the next line, staff strapped up on top of the totem pole to blast at you. Bassmasters, look how they totem pole. Referring back to his friends with straps, his staff, Cole claims to have snipers in

high places, using the phrase top of the totem pole to assert his place at the top of the hip-hop hierarchy. Meanwhile, Bassmasters refers to the annual Bassmasters fishing competition in which the most skilled fishermen compete. Thus, look how they tote a pole, refers to a pole, refers to a how skilled Cole shooters are, as pole, short for fishing pole, is also slaying for a gun. This analogy continues with, got to know the ropes and the protocol, or they're going to for sure blow your clothes off half off like a promo code. The ropes here plays off fishing wire, while protocol refers to an established systematic procedure, which in this case means knowing your place in the pecking order of rap. Failure to comply will result in verbal assassination,

as Cole plays with retail clearance sales selling clothes half off and the image of someone's clothes being ripped apart by bullet holes, leaving them physically missing half the material. Cole continues when niggas wearing coke and not the pros and kinds Well I ain't with that sleeping on the ground like a gopher so I go for mine Coe continues the previous reference to blowing clothes half off Rapping made a little tune called folding clothes and an N-word still ain't known to fold under pressure Here he references a track from his 2016 album for your eyes only titled folding clothes Because of its atypical subject matter,

which detailed daily domestic life with his wife. Folding clothes became somewhat of a meme, inspiring jokes across the internet about doing laundry and drinking almond milk. Cole points out the irony of making a song about folding when this is the opposite of what he actually does when put under pressure. Given the climbback's attempt to rekindle the passion of his early mixtapes, it's possible this line is a reference to the intro of his 2009 mixtape, The Warmup. When life seems to take you through more downs than ups,

seems like it gives you more losses than wins. But do you stand tall? and be bold or do you fold? On the mixtape's second track that directly follows this intro, Cole seems to answer his own question about folding under pressure. Because I only make classics. Now what that take timing? Coal under pressure, what that make diamonds? Rather than folding under pressure, coal excels and makes diamonds,

which are literally formed from carbon under intense pressure and heat. Cole returns to the same analogy in the climb back as he continues saying, well, you know what Cole do, make a diamond, they just rhyme. me, I'm quoting gold. While Cole calls out a literal diamond, his reference to rhyming also implies a diamond certification, which is awarded when an artist sells 10 million copies of an album or song. In 2022, Cole actually earned his first diamond certification for a song no role models from 2014 Forest Hills Drive. Meanwhile, the line I'm quoting gold continues the gemstone and certification wordplay as a gold record is awarded when an artist sells 500,000 copies of an album

or song. Given the similarities between these lines and those from the warm-up, it's possible Cole is quoting gold by quoting himself, as the warm-up was downloaded over 700,000 times on Dapiff alone, equivalent to a gold certification as far as mixtapes go. He continues, one phone call get you canceled like a homophobe in this PC culture. This hypothetical phone call he places is to his shooters, who wait for his command to cancel or assassinate anyone he names. Of course, this is wrapped in a reference to cancel culture and political correctness. which seeks to cancel or end the career of any public figure, who in this case says something disparaging about the queer community.

Cleverly, in addition to politically correct, PC also works as an abbreviation of phone call. Cole then continues this abbreviation motif, rapping, Address Me as the Goat like they call Chief Keefe Sosa. He's still playing off the idea of call, switching from a phone call to what you call or label someone. Cole, of course, should be called the greatest of all time,

just like Chicago rapper Chief Kee's nickname is Sosa, a reference to fictional drug kingpin Alejandra Sosa from the movie Scarface. Cole extends this into, In my sectional like a fucking three-piece sofa, I'm known as the Chosen One. He's playing off the way section is used to describe a certain part or section of a neighborhood, extending it to sectional to play off a sectional couch. Meanwhile, the Chosen One moniker is another callback to his rise as a rapper, as Cole had often referred to himself as such on those early mixtapes.

Cole closes out his verse by returning to the previous image of a black corpse, saying, Another dead body lay frozen. That's how it goes sometimes when N-Words weighing Coke and not the pros and cons. He juxtaposes literally weighing cocaine on a scale to figuratively weighing the pros and cons of selling that cocaine, which can endanger the dealer or the buyer. In contrast, Cole says, Well, I ain't with that sleeping underground like a gopher, so a gopher minds.

The play here is on sleeping underground, used as a use, euphemism for being dead and buried six feet underground. Of course, gophers live and sleep underground as well, hence we get the homophone, gopher mines, describing Cole's drive to get what he wants. Cleverly, literal mines are buried underground and also relate back to the previous reference to diamond and gold, which are collected by mining. Thus, Cole appropriately ends his verse full of wordplay with a well-executed triple entendre. Welcome back to dissect. Before the break, we analyzed the climb back's first verse, which found Cole oscillating between boasts and descriptions of slain black men. And it's with this context that we can reanalyze the song's chorus,

which on its second repetition includes a key additional line. call it bloom. In our opening analysis of this chorus, we focused on two simultaneous interpretations. Cole's returned to passionate lyricism and the 2020 protests around murderous acts of police brutality. But here in the second chorus, Cole surfaces another layer with the addition of a new last line. He says, This that come back to life shit. My N-words pick me up and we go light the city up as if the sun had the night shift

and paint the town red for my N-word found dead too soon. Now I know why they call it Blue Moon. The moon here literally brings a hook full circle, as it starts with everything come back around full circle and ends with an image of an actual circle, a moon. Specifically, a blue moon, as in the phrase once in a blue moon, which is used to describe something that rarely happens. But Cole doesn't seem to be using it as such. Rather, he's using it to contrast with paint the town red, creating another dichotomy

in the chorus. Red and blue here have two, perhaps even three layers of meaning. As it relates to our previous analysis of the chorus, these are the colors of police sirens, and perhaps even allude to the American flag. But the strongest layer is the fact that red and blue are heavily associated with the country's two most well-known gangs, the Bloods and Crips. In this reading, Cole deliberately references gang-related gun violence, describing a scenario in which Cole is picked up by his shooters to paint the town red

or retaliate against those who murdered his friend. Thus, I guess why they call it Blue Moon is a sobering way to end the hook. Traditionally, blue is a color associated with melancholy, like the expression, feeling blue. Meanwhile, the moon's circular shape is used to denote the recurring cycle of gang violence, where one murder leads to a retaliatory murder, which then leads to another retaliatory murder, and so on. We also recognize that Blue Moon is the name of a nationally distributed beer, calling back to the alcohol reference in the line,

we pour the brown just to drown these thoughts of black corpses and county morgues. In this way, we find new meaning in the hook's opening minds, as we're forced to wonder whether retaliatory violence is an attempt to force a frown into a smile, or whether the hurtful truth is that acts of vengeance will only continue a deadly cycle that will ultimately cause more people to cry. It's a full circle of violence, cold-nosed firsthand.

Look, somebody laid on the concrete. No time for that, ain't no looking back because I'm running two. I made it home, I woke up and turned on the morning news. Overcame with a feeling I can't explain because that was my nigga James that was slain. He was 22. Last night, around, he was 22.

22-year-old black male, suspect. We've gathered here today, mourn the life, James McNeillian. I swear to God, tragedy, another tragedy in the black community. We got to do better people. 22 years old, this boy was too young. Our condos is it with his family. Our prayers, we know he's in a better place. On the song changed from the album, For Your Eyes Only,

Cole describes his friend being shot and killed in the streets at 22 years old. He then portrays attending his funeral, where as a pastor speaks, we hear Chris. of mourning, juxtaposed with Cole's internal thoughts about exacting revenge on the people who killed his friend. It's a powerful concept that expresses dichotomous emotions of trauma and loss, and the all-too-human temptation to right a wrong with another wrong, as if that's the comeback to life shit that will somehow resurrect his friend. Survival at all costs. Everyday niggas get logged off, bodies get hard off.

Passing the funeral procession while holding my breath in the car, I thought. It's time to be feeling the devil be winning, but do that mean God lost? Just got off the phone. My nigger, he's back in the kennel. my daughter lost. I brought around close to me before, but he became a dick of the clout and all the holes we need. I slowly peeped. Jealousy on his breath whenever he spoke to me. Like going to low, he feeling that in my shoes is where he's supposed to be.

I try to ignore the signs with there in the back of my mind. It felt like letting the nigger come sleep on your couch and he eating up all your groceries. My nigga repeated the- Colbegins verse 2, survival at all costs. Every day N-words get logged off. Bodies get hauled off. He continues to focus on the deaths and poverty-stricken black neighborhoods and the adaptation required to survive in these environments.

He follows this grave portrait saying, Passing a funeral procession while holding my breath in the car, I thought, at times it be feeling like the devil be winning, but do that mean God lost? This paints an image of Cole observing the death in his community and pondering what it means. The specific description of him holding his breath while driving past a funeral alludes to the superstition that if you breathe around the spirits of the dead,

they'll become jealous and haunt you. But given Cole's contemplative nature in these lines, It feels like he's holding his breath out of guilt, not wanting to enjoy the breath of life while being reminded of the loss of another black man. This conveys the idea of Survivor's guilt, which is when a person feels bad about having survived a life-threatening situation when others did not. This once again links back to PTSD, as Survivor's guilt is a common symptom. Coulden poses a philosophical question about whether the devil winning also means that God lost,

adding to the list of dichotomies in the song. At its heart, it feels like a question of faith. in the face of so many atrocities with no end or solution in sight, one might question the existence of God altogether. Put in more secular terms, when you continually witness humans committing wicked acts, you begin to wonder whether the nature of man is not good, but evil. Quothing continues by starting a thread about a specific friend,

wrapping, Just got off the phone with my N-word, He back in the kennel, my dog lost. He uses a canine analogy to convey his friend is back in prison, with kennel or a dog cage standing in for a prison cell. He then gives us friend's backstory saying, I brought him around close to me before, but he became addicted to the clout and all the hoes we'd meet.

I slowly peeped jealousy on his breath whenever he spoke to me, like on the low he's feeling that in my shoes is where he's supposed to be. Here cold trades clever wordplay for a clever rhyme scheme, using swing-heavy dotted triplet patterns and tight rhyming cadences with an up and down melodic inflection. The central rhyme is a three-syllable scheme, close to me, before but he, hose we meet, jealousy, spoke to me, low he-fi,

and supposed to be. Apparently this friend now in jail is someone Cole brought into his circle, perhaps in an attempt to keep him out of trouble and show him a different path. But instead, this friend fell for the women in proximity to fame that Cole provided him, even becoming jealous and entitled. He further elaborates, I tried to ignore the signs, but they in the back of my mind. It felt like letting an N-word come sleep on your couch and he's eaten up all your groceries. Despite his goodwill, Cole understood he was being used by his friend. He then uses groceries to return back to the three-syllable rhyme scheme to describe another friend who offered Cole some sage advice about this jealous friend taking advantage of it. My nigga repeated this quote to me.

I felt this potency, said most of the n'nigas gonna hang their self just giving a rope and see. Shit, I heeded that and what got showed to me with screaming at some niggas you gotta leave them back. Unfortunately, we seen the trap. N'nick be on that demon clack. Resultally they've been a clap as often as the genius that misquoting me. Un-Wall-Raps. wraps, my N-words repeated this quote to me. I felt its potency, said most of these N-words go and hang themselves, just give him the rope and see. I heeded that and what got showed to me

was screaming that some N-words you got to leave them back. Another one of his friends offers something like advice or commentary on Cole's situation with his jealous friend. He modernizes the old proverb, give enough rope and he'll hang himself, which means if you give people the opportunity to do something wrong or detrimental to themselves, they'll usually do it. In the case of Cole's friend, the rope was money, women, and fame. And given he was showing signs of jealousy, it was only a matter of time that his inevitable downfall would also threaten Cole himself. Thus, Cole took the advice and distanced himself from this person. Given the fact this friend ended up back in jail, it would seem Cole made the right decision

and avoided potential endangerment. He expands on this danger saying, Unfortunately, we seen the trap, and words beyond that demon clock resultantly. Notice that Cole is still extending that rapid three-syllable rhyme scheme. He describes recognizing the trap or plan his jealous friend was setting on him, claiming he was on that demon clock. This is a variation of demon time, a phrase coined by rapper Fabio Forrin that describes a possessed, determined less toward a goal, usually sex or money. During the COVID-19 pandemic, when strip clubs around the world shut down, a secondary use of demon time became prominent, referring to late-night Instagram live streams in which strippers

would dance and collect tips via cash app. Cleverly, Cole incorporates both meanings in the following line. They fiend to clap, as often as the Genius app misquoting me. Clap is slang for a violent act, like shooting or stabbing, so Cole is describing the ill will of his jealous friend who's plotting against him. But Clap also slyly eludes to those proverbial butt cheeks clapping together on those Demon Time Instagram lives. The Genius app refers to the lyric website Genius, where users can annotate song lyrics with

their original interpretations. Hence, Cole is calling out Genius and its users for either getting his lyrics wrong and or misinterpreting the intent behind them. It's for this reason, millions upon millions of people have flocked to the podcast dissect to hear the flawless interpretations of a white guy from the suburbs. Now, as we reach the end of Cole's story about his jealous friend, we might wonder why he chose to include this anecdote directly after alluding to survivor's guilt. It would seem that because he's escaped the circumstances that many of his people are still entrapped

in, perhaps Cole is wondering the best way he could use his position to help. Taking someone in and showing them a different way of life could be one such way. But Cole soon realized that, at least in this instance, the survival at all cost mentality doesn't immediately dissolve the moment you expose someone to a world they've never seen. This dynamic is something Kendrick Lamar explored in his song institutionalized from Tipib a Butterfly, where he describes taking his homies from Compton to the BET Awards, where to Kendrick's surprise, they plotted to rob all the rich people they are surrounded by after the show. Watch on the TV and be okay

But see I'm on the clock once that watch London in LA Remember still from the rich and giving it back to the poor Well that's me at these awards I guess my grandma was warning the boy she said Shit don't change until you get up to wash your egg In this song Kendrick learns that institutionalized racism Not only imprisons people physically in places like Compton But it also imprisons them mentally

As Snoop Dog tells Kendrick at the end of the song You can take your boy out the hood but you can't take the hood at the homie It would appear Cole learned a similar lesson with his jealous friend who ended up back in prison. Untangling the centuries of oppression in America has been an extremely complex and uphill task that's plagued this country since slavery, and we can feel Cole's struggle to find his place as the victim of oppression, but also someone in a position of influence with resources to help facilitate change. A few months prior to the release of the climbback, during the aftermath of George Floyd's murder, Cole's internal struggle was put on public display when the rapper and activist no-name tweeted what

many interpreted as a shot at both J Cole and Kendrick Amar, saying, quote, poor black folks all around the country are putting their bodies on the line in protest for a collective safety, and y'all top-selling rappers not even willing to put a tweet up. Their whole discographies be about black plight, and they're nowhere to be found. Cole responded to this tweet in the form of a song called Snow in the Bluff. While this track was met with pushback by some, for our purposes today we're going to focus on its end, where Cole articulates his confusion and conflicting feelings about his current position. thoughts on the daily feel like a slave that's somehow to say then no coins to buy his way about a

slavery think it just maybe in my pursuit that make life so much better for me and my babies I don't betrayed the very same people to look at me like I'm some kind of a hero because of the zeros that's next to the comments but look yeah I promise I'm not who you think ran into this nigger outside of the store yesterday he said something that had me like wait he was like cold appreciate what you been doing my nigger that's real but damn why i feel faker than snowing a bluff well maybe goes deep down I know i ain't doing enough Cole makes clear his feelings of inauthenticity and the guilty feels about focusing on his family at the expense of advocating on behalf of his community. As Cole closes out his verse on the climbback, we hear more of this internal conflict, as he begins by offering advice to his community, but ultimately ends in a place of isolation and defensiveness.

Meanwhile, I see that your diamonds is glistening. I'm glad that you shine up in need. I remind you my niggins is diamond and nickeling. Scraping on whatever coin they can find. The pettiest crime and committing it. Just to get about for a limited time. Trying to climb on hitch on I find a derivative. You niggas don't feel me.

You see the clout. You don't see the real me. If I sit, you nigger wouldn't heal me. Therefore I'm healing myself. Getting into two of my guys slowly revealing myself. Build on my wealth. A niggins test mine. I'm a killer myself.

Trust. Hey, thank you. Cole continues his verse by talking directly to those in his community like his jealous friend. He says, Meanwhile, I see that your diamonds is glistening. I'm glad that you shine in, but I need to remind you N-words as diamond and nickelin. Scraping up whatever coin they can find, the pettiest crime. They commit in it just to get by for a limited time.

Cole here describes someone resorting to crime to survive, only to use some of that money on jewelry and attempt to present as someone who is well off. Cole sees through this facade and reminds them that they are nickel and dimming themselves, a phrase used to describe a person that pays excessive attention to small amounts of money, often with a detrimental effect. In this way, it appears Cole is saying that being caught up in crime that results in insubstantial amounts of money that's being used on showing material goods is keeping them entrapped and distracting them from seeing the larger picture. Hence we get the line, the steepest of mountains they try to climb. I'm here trying to find the derivative. Here Cole alludes to the song title, The Climb Back. As we discuss,

this title is on one hand self-referential to his personal climbback to the top of his rap form. But now we find the more substantial meaning of the climb as he relates it to the actual subject matter of this song, the uphill battle of being black in America, born into an environment that produces a survivor's mentality in a country that systematically works against you. Cleverly, Cole describes his active search for solutions as trying to find the derivative. In mathematics, a derivative refers to the formula used to determine the gradient of a slope or a function, in other words, how steep it is. So rather than climbing the steepest of mountains, Cole is stepping back and analyzing it,

seeing if there might be a better way to make the uphill climb. This once again displays his active thinking on how to enact change, but it seems clear at this point he doesn't have the answers. Unexpectedly, Coulthin closes out the verse on a defensive attack, saying, you N-words don't feel me. You see the clout, you don't see the real me. If I was sick, you N-words wouldn't heal me. These kinds of isolating, misunderstood feelings are common among celebrities who live a paradoxical existence. On one hand, Jay Cole is a household name and quote-unquote known by everyone. Still, very few know the real him, and despite this, many are

quick to make assumptions about who he is and what he should do with his influence. Worse still, Cole feels that when it really comes down to it, when he is sick or going through a hard time, he doubts any of these so-called friends or fans will really be there for him. These feelings of resentment and isolation have Cole turning inward, saying, Therefore, I'm healing myself, getting in tune with my God, slowly revealing myself, building my wealth. On the surface, Cole's focus on healing, spirituality, mental health, and financial wealth feels like a healthy plan of action. But we're quickly forced to question the modus behind these lines when he ends the verse saying,

An inward touch mine, I'm a kill of myself, trust me. In the end, Cole is left expressing the same vengeful, murderous intent that he previously observed to be responsible for a vicious cycle of loss, grief, and trauma in his community. The wealthies building inspires a preemptive hyper-aggressiveness and vigilance in line with the symptoms of PTSD we discussed previously. In this way, the hostile closing sentiment of the song's final verse brings the song full circle, back to its opening quote. Are you doing this work to facilitate growth or to become famous?

which is more important, getting or letting go. Recall this quote was sampled from a larger passage of the Tao of leadership, a book that gains relevance now that we've heard Cole's conflicting thoughts about his current position of leadership. There's a problem with owning a lot. There's a problem with getting more and more. The more you have and the more you get, the more you have to look after, and the more you might lose.

Is that owning or being owned? But if you give up things, you can give up spend. your life looking after them. Ultimately, Cole is left struggling with the wisdom of the very quote he begins the song with. His isolated focus on self and building wealth leads to stress and hostility over maintaining and protecting all that he's acquired, exhibiting the same take and protect what's mind, survivor's mentality he observed in others. Indeed, when it comes to the question of which is more important, getting or letting go,

it appears that Cole still has some climbing to do. Everybody mentions suicide prevention, man, they even made a hotline. To call it when there's tension, but I got a question, what about a fucking homicide? Need a number four, my niggas to call whenever there's a urge to get triggers involved. After a repetition of the chorus, Cole ends the climb back with a poignant coda. He makes a point that there's easily accessible resources for those with suicidal ideation, but little help for someone thinking about killing someone else, specifically in this case, those contemplating killing another black man in retaliation.

The hotline call refers to is the suicide prevention hotline, which can be accessed by dialing or texting 988, a service similar to an emergency 911 call. In contrast, there is currently no such widely known service specifically for homicidal ideation, and even more specifically, retaliatory homicides and underserved. of communities. It doesn't feel like Cole is arguing against suicide prevention, but rather questioning whether the current system views the prevention of black deaths as a priority or crisis. Broadly speaking, it feels like there's a general attitude that gang-related homicides are self-inflicted, a risk you

take when you choose to become a gang member. But as Cole has alluded to throughout this song, America's long history of disadvantaging people of color created the circumstances into which many eventual gang members are born. It would therefore stand to reason that America should feel a responsibility to help reduce the number of homicides in these communities, just like suicide is considered a national health crisis. But instead, oftentimes gang-related deaths are treated as insular, a not-our-a-pronglegged mentality. For example, when lawmakers attempted to pass a number of gun control restrictions in 2020, a leading gun rights activist, Philip Van Cleave, gave a speech in opposition to these proposals, claiming that everyday gun owners were being penalized by homicides committed

by gang members. Quote, if you took an exactopin to certain parts of every city in the state and around the country, if you cut it out and could take it off the map, murders would drop to almost zero. It's usually gangbangers killing gangbangers, unquote. Van Cleef's claim is statistically false. Gang-related homicides accounted for 13% of homicides in America from 2007 to 2013, the last time such statistics were tracked. But beyond his misleading factual inaccuracy, Van Cleave's statement about cutting out predominantly

black and brown communities from the map of America with an exacto knife, at least to my ears, feels indicative of an attitude that views gang-related violence as a nuisance to white America, dehumanizing these communities as if black and brown deaths are not the deaths of Americans, but some other kind. It's this same otherness that was used to justify slavery and segregation, the legacy of which has created the steepest of mountains for black Americans to climb. Thus, as we reached the end of the climbback, we seemingly find J. Cole standing amidst two mountains. The song's first verse begins with some of Cole's cleverest, most intricate bars to date, a testament to his re-energized commitment to the art of rap.

However, by the second verse, that wittiness wanes as the song's subject matter weighs heavier on Cole's psyche, and his desire to climb the mountain of rap gives way to the thoughts of the much steeper mountain of being black in America. Caught between the comfort of his success and the PTSD-like symptoms of racial trauma. We find Cole wavering between empathy and irritability, between humility and ego. between being outside wanting to help and being inside reclusively focusing on himself. A self-described work in progress, Cole is honestly expressing both sides of the circle, compassion and vengeance, anger and empathy, searching for a Taoist, Yin-yang-like equilibrium

to his life's dualities. At the same time, Cole is also tapping into the more universal struggle of finding a balance between personal ambition and communal altruism, about knowing the most effective ways to personally contribute to a larger cause while building a life for yourself and your family. Ultimately, he ends a climbback by voicing the sobering reality of America's historic indifference toward the deaths of black Americans, a public reminder that while the natural order of the universe may be cyclical, the tragic cycle of retaliatory gun violence is one circle that needn't keep coming back around.

Everything come back around full circle. Why do lies sound pleasant but the truth hurtful. Everybody got a cry once in a while, but how long will it take for you smile? This is that come back the light shit My niggas pick me up And we gonna light the city up As if the sun had a nice shit

And painting time red for my nigga Found there too soon Now I know why they call it bloomin This episode was written and produced by me Audio editing by Kevin Pooler Theme music by bureaucratic If you enjoyed this episode Please tell a friend about the new series

Or share on social media And Tag at Dysect Podcast If you're new to the show Check out our back catalog of seasons Covering Full Albums by Kendrick Lamar Beyonce, Kanye West, Frank Ocean, Tad of the creator, MacMiller, and more. Just scroll down our feed and find your favorite. All right, thanks everyone. Talk to you next week.