The Weekly Coos

When Nas & Hit-Boy released Magic in 2021, Nas made a bold proclamation about how they’re the next GangStarr, the next Premo and Guru – as bold as that proclamation is, I never expected it to turn into a speedrun of releases to further that idea. Since then, Nas delivered on that with King’s Disease 3 –  it reverts with the weak connectivity on Magic 2, where even the best verses from Nas can’t entirely detract you from the mundane aesthetic guiding the boom-bap core of the production. With Magic 2 continuing to boast their kineticism and “supposed” legendary parallels, like on the final track, “Pistols On Your Album Cover,” where Nas proclaims, “Hardest shit since Rakim and Eric B.” That diatribe doesn’t hit like it did in the moment on Magic. If it got said on King’s Disease 3, it would carry more weight, but with Magic 2, it becomes an afterthought as it comes after predominantly underwhelming 27-ish minutes leading to it. I’m not here to squander the album, as there are some highlights to reflect on, but it has now made future expectations from the duo tepid. 

I won’t deny I had little trepidation with the album as the positive consistency streak was running high from King’s Disease 3 to features, and I thought, “Hey, this could actually be better than the last Magic;” I was wrong. It isn’t to say Magic 2 is an outright horrible album; there are quite a few bright spots, like the 50 Cent feature and Nas’s flows, especially in the latter half. Unfortunately, Hit-Boy’s production feels like a step back from before, and part of me can’t fully blame him. Hit-Boy has been consistently pouring out albums outside of just his collaboration with Nas, like a solo album and a collab with Raphael Saadiq, so when I hear some lackluster beats, the surprise is minimal, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t some disappointment. The boom bap is crisp, but what happens around it doesn’t elevate the drums to be anything more than faux-nostalgia points aimed at keeping the temperature tempered instead of getting ingenuity and modern viscosity with hi-hats, synths, and subtle bass grooves. Fortunately, it isn’t the end all be all, as some beats skirt by with the performances guiding them through to the end, like the crisp and smooth “Office Hours.”

The Magic albums have quality lyricism, but it isn’t enough to counteract some weak sounds emulating past the base percussion. It begins with the first track, “Abracadabra,” which has contrasting verses in quality and, in hindsight, sets the table for what to expect, like how Magic 2 quickly dips after the fun and nostalgia-inducing “Office Hours,” which, for me, reeled me in for a quick moment before puttering. 50 Cent and Nas haven’t had many collaborations, just two in 2002 on the 50 Cent mixtape Guess Who’s Back? But even if you weren’t in the NYC Streets in 2002 or accessing music during the early days of DatPiff and Limewire, “Office Hours” stands as a highlight with that tight synergy between the rappers – go back and listen to the two past collabs, and you’ll see that parallel. It brings allusions to The Godfather, Bruce Lee, and Dumb & Dumber – shout out Jeff Daniels and Jim Carrey, as Nas would iterate on the track – and does so cleverly before 50 Cent rounds it out with his charming swagger counteracting that ferocity in Nas’s voice. It makes the final product easy to return to without hesitation, unlike much of Magic 2.

Unfortunately, what comes after is where you start to zone out and lose focus – no matter the quality of the writing – especially on a technical level – the content doesn’t always hit, and that goes for the slightly sensual “Black Magic” or simple-gothic influenced “Motion.” They feel just there and do nothing to move the needle – Nas’s writing on “Motion” is some of his best on the album, but does little to make you stay with the beat. Nas’s mastery of picture painting in his writing shines with later tracks as he creates these songs that are part of an homage to the namesake but also meer reflections using references prevalent to the actor, like one analogy using Jason’s Lyric to relay a message. On the following track, “Earvin Magic Johnson,” just like the ex-NBA player, Nas switches the tempo from collected to more braggadocio with crisp charm, humbling himself by reflecting on Hip-Hop and how he’s the Magic and Kareem, while his producers like the deceased, Heavy D and J Dilla get elevated by Nas running the plays and delivering emphatically. 

Again, after two fantastic songs, it teeters again; though the production isn’t wrought with simple conventions, the content of the lyrics isn’t as refreshing. Two of the last three songs see Nas being more introspective, and some of the writing retreads stuff we’ve heard before. But as it turns the page at the end, you’re left underwhelmed like me, and more so with a wish for the duo to steady the brakes and let the music breathe instead of churning out project after project. Though there are some moments I liked in Magic 2, most of it is more leave than take it, and I really can’t recommend this much, outside of just telling you to spin KD3 if you’re hungry for some real shit.