The Jacka’s frequent ruminations on death and murder don’t feel cynical or callous as much as they do therapeutic. Although an undercurrent of tragedy runs as a constant throughout his catalog, his music was not totally dark. There’s an exuberance, especially early on, for not just the spoils of victory, but for playing his part in a larger history. On 2006’s “Sicilian Breeze,” he raps about being “missing in action, on resorts just relaxing, looking in the water while the dolphins is passing,” before shifting suddenly back and forth through history in snatches of anecdotes, an aggregation of the moments that placed him there: “’91 I seen the killers with the curl on top, 2-6 and Cutty had the fiends on hop, back then moms threw away her dreams for rock.” “I’m in NYC standing by what used to be towers…interrogation from the boys was my quietest hour,” “I used to be young, hanging around cowards, acting like gangsters, trying to figure out what my style was.”
As he grew older, his music honed in on a purposeful moral conscience without sacrificing its immediacy or populist appeal. On records like Mob Trial 3‘s incredible “African Warrior,” the Jacka’s writing was at its evocative peak: “I would really like to say a lot more, but I’m holding back/Because they shoot our heroes down when exposing facts/Rather see me in they war killing foes with straps/Or with a sack of dope killing fiends with that/Or anything to keep me from my dreams I guess.” The song opens with an indictment of the music business’ inability to see his vision: “The major labels blind, they don’t even know what’s up/They let a real nigga pass ’cause they dumb as fuck.”
While the labels were indeed blind, in one sense it’s hard to blame them: The Jacka’s catalog is deep and difficult to wrap one’s head around. In addition to his official solo albums (2001’s The Jacka, 2005’s The Jack Artist, and 2009’s Tear Gas), there are unofficial albums, official mixtapes, unofficial mixtapes, guest spots, and collaborative releases. As with the work of Max B, Gucci Mane, and other rappers of their generation, the Jacka’s work is best understood through an immersion experience, rather than through one limited to one or two great albums.
While he’s largely considered a marginal figure due to a lack of mainstream attention or cool cosigns, the essence of the Jacka’s creative work is so substantial it’s difficult to imagine a future where the true extent of his accomplishments won’t be recognized. It was an optimism he shared throughout his work, as in the close of “This Time I Want It All,” from 2011’s Mobbin Thru the West.
We was real, but when I’m gone, I wonder what they’ll say
When all I ever did is try to make it the ill way
Since I was a kid they been sleep, but they will wake
David Drake is a writer living in New York. Follow him @somanyshrimp
Article Appeared @http://www.complex.com/music/2015/02/rip-the-jacka-obituary