Beyonce’s Lemonade Was a Mess of Unintelligible Nonsense Mixed With an Occasional Good Song


Nobody understands nor appreciates artistic license more than me.

I mean I am, after all, perhaps the world’s foremost and acclaimed literary genius, but that bullshit Beyonce peddled off Saturday night on HBO under the guise of “art” should be set fire to if only because it’s not yet summer and there are probably still some homes out there without heat.

What the fuck was that?

And if I give you muhfuccas another Nietzsche quote I’m gonna hafta promise that it’ll be the last one and since I did finally finish Beyond Good and Evil this will be the last one, but was Beyonce on some

“Every deep thinker is more afraid of being understood than being misunderstood”


If that’s the case, she should be totally fearless.

Because if she can find even one other person that can make heads or tails of that lunacy that paraded itself across the TV screen, she and that person deserve their own private planet, complete with Maori makeup, baseball bats named “hot sauce” and spoken word gibberish that once or twice, I swore was some actual Gwendolyn Brooks!

And yes, this is a bit personal.

Just like every time I see Woody Allen onscreen I expect to laugh, when I hear that Beyonce’s releasing an album, I expect at least one club banger.

Or maybe, to be fair, I should say one more.


And the album itself is more than 1/2 good, meaning there are more good songs than bad.

As to whether or not all those sly and backhanded references to unfaithfulness and cheating were actual issues that Beyonce was or is dealing with in her marriage is a subject for her and that cat she married to deal with.

And as to her marriage, it was only some impressive lighting and camera angles that could turn Jay-Z into The Romantic Hero during the scenes from “Sandcastles”.

Still the song was only so-so. As were “Sorry”, “Love Drought” and “Forward”.

“Don’t Hurt Yourself” was trash but bound to resound with the crowd that made Kelis’ “Caught Out There” an unlikely hit.

She had good moments with The Weeknd-featured “6 Inch” and that’s not just because I’m partial to the sample of Isaac Hayes’ “Walk on By“, “Daddy Lessons” wins because not since Nas’s “Bridging the Gap” has a Hip Hop-era artist even attempted a real turn at the Blues, “Freedom” might be the revelation of the album, as you can almost picture Angela Davis picking up a shotgun and blowing a hole through Bull Connor‘s face then turning the head of the gun towards the cameraman that had the temerity to film the whole thing, then the camera goes to snow just as Kendrick’s verse starts, and “All Night” is one of those songs that could be the backdrop to anything you’ve got going on; wine and cheese affair, 420 session, possible foreplay, getting ready to go out, getting ready to stay in.

Like Woody Allen or Toni Morrison, maybe a Jack Nicholson and definitely her own husband, an off or semi-off offering from Beyonce is still better than just about anything anybody else out there can deliver.

That doesn’t excuse that shit that aired on HBO, tho.

Nothing does.


About the Author


Dickie Bhee is a self-styled lunatic, a Renaissance showman, a Class A, Grade A buffoon, a nigga that believes in the greatness of Niggerhood a social gadfly and a genuine Man About Town.

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