"Lord, my all, what you think of it? Been on this long road accumulating luggage. As time proceeds, preoccupied with everything, I think it's 'bout time that I sing of nothing."
Wale’s fourth studio album, deceptively titled The Album About Nothing, is what happens when a rapper devotes 10 years to his craft, switches labels, subsequently tops the Billboard charts, loses a close friend to a car accident then a child to miscarriage soon after, and realizes that the music industry, the one place he desperately seeks approval, still fails to recognize him as a force amongst his peers. The Seinfeld-inspired album is a 14-track therapy session that takes audiences through the last few years of Wale’s personal and professional struggles, and may be a return to the melodic, heartfelt spoken word for which he was well-known and intermittently loved. A hefty handful of the songs on The Album About Nothing are definitely saying something, and although not a flawless piece of work, they seem to mark a new beginning for the rapper.
Here are 10 things The Album About Nothing is actually about.
The fans.
The album’s second track “Helium Balloon” is a banger that addresses the music fans that don’t understand the necessity of growth and experimentation in art. He raps “You get too fun 'til your core fans au revoir,” alongside Jerry Seinfeld’s commentary explaining that musicians are like helium balloons whose fans are connected to them by string; and, “when a kid gets a helium balloon, he's holding that string and he's keeping this balloon from going anywhere. But he also wants to let it go.” It’s a song recognizing that commercial success does not necessarily forebode a loss of substantial content...from an artist who clearly lost some of his substance on the road to commercial success (see: "Clappers" ft. Nicki Minaj and Juicy J circa 2013). He implies it’s all good as long as the check clears, rapping “Tell the purist that laugh I don't reach out for daps 'cause "No Hands" triple platinum.” Oop!
The loss of a child.
In routine interviews leading up to the release of TAAN, Wale promised to deliver a deeply personal project that would address a miscarriage the woman he was with during recording suffered, and the ways it affected him mentally and spiritually. On songs like “The Middle Finger” Wale raps “Miscarried my first child, ain't finna come out fuck the therapy route, where the syrup and loud?" And, on one of my favorites from this project, “The Matrimony” featuring Usher, he further explains his struggle coping with the loss saying, “Now I'm up in the club with a couple of Move On's and dark, troubled heart. Went from falling in love to drunk and falling apart.This is hard, tryna find some time to move on cause when we lost our baby, I got shady she got too dark.”
Dealing with anxiety and depression in the spotlight using alcohol and drugs.
The Album About Nothing is dripping with references to substance abuse with lines like “Blue 30 come around, there's the smile. Opiated, could show up later with more elation.” And, in a recent interview with Billboard Wale opened up about pill-popping and taking whatever he needed to take in order to present “the right mood” in interviews. He told the publication, “I was depressed not being where I wanna be in my career when I've put the work in. I wasn't sleeping. I was drinking all day and I didn't have anyone to go to. I couldn't fight it.”
The music industry and wanting to quit rap.
As expected, the rapper also tackles the subject of respect and recognition in the music industry--or, in his case, the lack thereof. On “The Matrimony” he raps “Wanted to quit, rap music sucks. But couldn't run a 4.2, so with you I'm stuck,” and in his interview with Billboard he explained that it hurts knowing that he works just as hard as peers, but still deals with dismissal and disrespect. “Everyone says, ‘Be patient. It'll happen,’” he said, “But all signs are showing, no, it won't happen… I want some respect. I want to go to a party and not have Katy Perry tell her security to move me out of the fuckin' way. We do the same thing.”
Building confidence and an identity.
Unlike Wale’s past albums that were packed with features, there are no guest verses on TAAN, and Wale does a good job of carrying this album on his own. His poetic lyrical content and cadence sound great over a live band, as he incorporates some go-go into this project, and I can not imagine anyone from Maybach Music Group trying to keep up. This slow return to his musical roots is telling, and Wale may finally be figuring out where he fits in and is refining his style to reflect that. J.Cole, SZA, Jeremih and Usher make small appearances assisting with hooks and melodies, but this album is purposefully 100% Wale. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he raps “But I can't move with too many rap dudes. I respect dudes from my double M crew, but I'm just not that dude hanging on to who's who's and such.”
Guidance.
Jerry Seinfeld is a large part of this album, and not only does he guide the narrative, but he’s guiding the rapper, advising him. What were once clips and snippets from the popular sitcom, are now actual conversations between the comedian and the rapper. In that same Billboard interview, Wale explains that he didn’t have the encouragement or guidance of his parents in pursuit of a music career or in many of his other endeavors, so it’s interesting to hear Seinfeld act as somewhat of a mentor.
Balancing fame and friends.
TAAN also focuses in on Wale’s struggle to maintain his essence in a music industry that seems to swallow everyone near it. He raps on “The Glass Egg” that sometimes money lets the devil out, and asks “so was it worth your fam or worth all the fame? Exchange your personal relationships for personal gains I'm telling you, balance is a bitch.”
Race and social injustice.
Yep, Wale even made one of those conscious rap songs for you purists, and it features some vocals from J.Cole. The song highlights the abject poverty, police brutality and post-traumatic stress that all urban neighborhoods are plagued with. He deems the situations hopeless because “why complain about the man when a nigga with my skin, the same problems with them I had, is out there killin' n*ggas too?” On “The God Smile,” he raps “The white girl destroyed the black neighborhood, so white boys can run the world,” highlighting the sentient efforts made to damage black community.
Love, of course.
It just wouldn’t be a Wale album without some talk of women and relationships. Wale’s not shy about expressing that he wants to love and be loved eternally and unconditionally, even if that means having to throw a couple thousand ones for a small taste of it.
Letting go.
Overall, The Album About Nothing is about release. Wale has obviously had a rough past few years, and he needed a place to put some of the fear, pain and disappointment he’s experienced. Thus, TAAN was born. It’s not actually as deep as he had promised, but my hopes are that he’ll continue to tap into the other sides of himself; because art can be fun, but it is also heartfelt, and as a poet, he’d been missing that for a moment.
