The smaller but more influential world of hardcore rap intelligentsia paid attention to him, but in the shadow of Biggie and Pac, Jay felt like a lesser myth. The Source gave it 4 out of 5 mics-approving, not rapturous. Critics were impressed, but not overly so: Mainstream and non-hip-hop publications noted it was clever at times but mostly a rehash of Scarface and gangster-movie tropes. “Ain’t No Nigga” was a hit, for sure, and the album was certified Gold on its release solid, but hardly world-conquering in the dynastic era CD sales. Perhaps he’s never forgotten its relatively inauspicious release. He has curated its legacy so assiduously that Reasonable Doubt seems like the one part of his story about which he remains insecure, the piece of his legacy that might blink out if he didn’t take care of it.
#JAY Z REASONABLE DOUBT ROLE WITH THE WINNERS SERIES#
He’s thrown it a series of lavish birthday parties, celebrating its 10th anniversary with a full-concert performance in 2006 and commissioning a documentary to air only on his TIDAL streaming service for its 20th. He keeps yanking it from streaming services, as if the album is a troubled prep-school kid. Shawn Carter has always been fiercely protective of his first full-length, to the degree that it sometimes feels like it belongs more to him than to us. It was the valedictory statement of a drug kingpin and the commencement of a brand, a lifetime’s worth of private thoughts discharged before the true business of empire-building could begin. Every contributor was paid in bags of cash, piles so mountainous nobody involved could be mistaken how they were acquired. It was the album he made before the world was listening, with only a close crew of friends and associates at the late age of 26. So goes the story of Reasonable Doubt, anyway, a tale Jay Z has regaled us with at every opportunity since its release on a new and unproven independent label called Roc-A-Fella Records.