While you was blowing X amount of dollars on a bracelet, the sovereign nation of France was opening their files on the UFO phenomenon: I.E. spaceships. It’s just the facts, Jack. May as well face it: every rhyme I write will still get cracked in the chapter of Revelations, Adam will get cracked in the blackness of mediation. Mysterious shit: Call me Jay Dough-gone, I’m on some serious shit. Scholars wonder “Why do he bust?” The Lord blessed me with a Midas-y touch. Everything I laid to hands turned to Ethiopian gold, shiny and buff, I got a firm understanding on the minus and plus. So I ain’t got time to argue with a rapper about how he ain’t got rhymes that’s fucking with mines. I’m trying to kill Lucifer: so if I have to break because a rapper in my face telling me that he the great, you can bet a shiny nickel i’ll blast his motherfucking ass way past Jupiter. Couldn’t be stupider fucking with the Nuclear. Mayan, Aztec lion, Asiatic black man from Zion, Quetzalcoatl supreme, letting off steam. Dimethyltryptamine, make a man dream. But y’all would much rather hear me rapping about trash, the size of Erykah’s ass, blunts, and cash. We need saving, minds are consumed with swine, we need bathing…
— Jay Electronica - FYI
There’s something about the way these words flow from Jay’s mouth over the major progression piano loop that make the world seem really light. Going through all of
Eternal Sunshine is amazing. It’s beautiful, heartfelt and honest. You think “finally, someone is rhyming for the sole purpose of the art form, and not because they have to recoup label money”, and it’s fantastic. And then you get to 6:45, and then it’s just magic.
Yes, magic.
I seriously believe there are certain songs that are just magic, where certain words match up over certain melodies, and it makes you feel. There’s a part in the Bright Eyes song
Four Winds that literally sends chills down my spine every time I hear it, and it’s magic. The FYI segment of Eternal Sunshine does something similar; it’s a comforting hug when no one’s around. There’s a mixture of humbleness and braggadocio in the words and the voice that feel almost parental here, like he’s hear for
us, not to be confused with the
y’all (those who want to hear about trash, the size of Erykah’s ass, blunts and cash), but us, his
fans friends. I feel safe and well guarded when I’m listening to this verse, and it’s one of those things that make me hit the rewind button over and over and over.
