What's sadder than a nearly 40-year-old rapper telling the world - and himself - that he's "forever young"?

I can't think of anything, either. Except, maybe, that the rapper in question isn't just any rapper. It's Jay-Z, the hugely respected MC, mogul, and husband to Beyoncé, who, on his third album since coming out of retirement, has returned to the Blueprint brand under which he's released some of his most forward-thinking music.

The intention of The Blueprint 3 (Roc Nation **), the hotly anticipated follow-up to 2007's American Gangster, is to re-create the same level of experimentation and commercial accessibility that marked the classic first Blueprint album, released Sept. 11, 2001.

The Blueprint 3 boasts an overabundance of marquee singers, rappers and producers, including Kanye West (who drops the album's best verse on "Run This Town"), Rihanna, Alicia Keys, Young Jeezy, Kid Cudi, Swizz Beatz, Drake, and Pharrell (responsible for "So Ambitious," which isn't very). It was supposed to come out tomorrow, but was pushed up to this past Tuesday, due to Internet leakage.

Early on, it announces its intention to be musically serious on the first single "D.O.A. (Death of Auto-Tune)," which scoffs at rappers who use voice-modulating technology as a crutch. (Ironically, the song was produced by West, who used the technique throughout his last album, 808s & Heartbreak.)

But "D.O.A," when it was released earlier this summer - prior to the second, irresistible single, "Run This Town" - also sent the first signals that The Blueprint 3 was not going to be a fully committed, entirely passionate effort.

"The only rapper to rewrite history without a pen," boasts the man born Shawn Carter, who's widely regarded as the best rapper alive. While he may not have written it down, he shortly repeats the same line again - just as in the lukewarm opener, "What We Talkin' About," he twice claims, "I don't run rap no more, I run the map."

It's quite an accomplishment to go from the Marcy projects in Brooklyn to being the Man Who Has Everything, including, apparently, a text-messaging relationship with President Obama. But once you're on top, it's not so easy to find compelling storytelling material to rival the real-life experiences that helped you climb so high in the first place.

American Gangster was a return to form for the hip-hop deity known as Hova. It allowed Jay-Z, an ex-drug dealer, to reengage with his past through the story of real-life gangster Frank Lucas (played by Denzel Washington). But though he remains a supreme talent, Jay-Z (who plays the Wachovia Center on Oct. 23) finds no defining theme on The Blueprint 3.

The album has its moments, like the gurgling Swizz Beatz production "On to the Next One," and the pleasant "Empire State of Mind" with Keys, though the rappers' habit of comparing themselves to Frank Sinatra is getting tired.

But there are too many numbers like the lethargic closer "Young Forever," which recasts not the "Forever Young" of Bob Dylan but the one by German '80s synth-pop band Alphaville, and makes Jay-Z sound not eternally young but comfortably middle-aged.

Phish
Joy
(Jemp ***)

The one thing Phish fans never said about their faves (other than, "Man, those songs are short") is how much they've absolutely loved the Vermont-based band's albums. The virility, intensity, and humor of Phish's dynamic interplay always got lost. Until now.

Perhaps reuniting after a five-year break-up inspired guitarist Trey Anastasio, drummer Jon Fishman, keyboardist Page McConnell, and bassist Mike Gordon to make things right.

Maybe playing these songs (like the anxious orchestral suite "Time Turns Elastic") on the concert trail before hitting the studio with Steve Lillywhite (U2) made even the most complex cut seem effortlessly lived-in and warm. Then again, there's the one-in-a-million chance that these road dogs finally decided to craft melodies as potent as their live chops made them out to be (for instance, in the Kid Rock-ish "Kill Devil Falls") with tender lyrics about addiction, aging and death. They still do the not-so-hipster doofus bit when called on, but from the tortured lyrics of the title track through to its densest, most heartfelt music yet, this is no rubber-toy Phish.

- A.D. Amorosi

BLK JKS
After Robots

(Secretly Canadian ***1/2)

If the name comparisons help, great - but the vowel-eschewing South African prog/psych/dub/etc. rock quartet BLK JKS (pronounced black jacks) has delivered a debut album showcasing a fresh, wide-ranging aesthetic all its own. Mars Volta references are fair, given the Johannesburg band's similar approach to an idiosyncratic neo-prog groove-rock open to ethnic inflections. Mentioning certain Afro-pop-informed American indie rock darlings (Vampire Weekend, Dirty Projectors) is fine, too - so long as it's not in predictable backlash terms, pronouncing them Ivy League cultural tourists as opposed to these real-deal Jo-burg rockers. Noting their somewhat be-dreaded resemblance to Bad Brains is superficially fair - but more important, like the veteran band from D.C., BLK JKS indeed share an inclination to meld reggae into their mix.

Singing mostly in English, vocalist-guitarist Lindani Buthelezi fronts the foursome with a delicate voice and blazing leads, riding the explosive polyrhythmic surges of guitarist Mpumi Mcata, bassist Molefi Makananise, and stand-out drummer Tshepang Ramoba. The fiery opening track, "Molalatladi" has less of a South African township jive or mbaqanga feel and more of an Ethiopian jazz vibe. "Lakeside" has psych-funk set off by chants; the slow-burning "Kwa Nqingetje" is haunting art-rock. In a perfect touch, the gentle, acoustic guitar-stoked "Tselane" closes the album, sung-spoken in the Pedi tongue.

- David R. Stampone

Contact music critic Dan DeLuca at 215-854-5628 or ddeluca@phillynews.com. Read his blog, "In the Mix," at http://www.philly.com/philly/blogs/inthemix.