Jaz & Jay-Z “It’s That Simple”

Leaning on Edan’s Fast Rap mix again to pull a sort of curiosity from the era of high-top fades and Africa medallions. On his 1990 sophomore record, To Your Soul, Jaz throws a cameo to his sidekick, Jay-Z.

Seventeen years later, it’s Jigga’s appearance on this track that adds interest. Jaz, the now estranged mentor, was strictly an also-ran in the hip hop game, even at the time–at least to my memory of things, no reflection on his skills, just his lack of profile. We all gotta start somewhere, but God MC in the weed-carrier role feels like Jimi Hendrix watershedding on the chitlin circuit, not to put too much weight on sort of an outdated cliché.

Holding aside that elephant in the room, there’s a lot here that exemplifies why old farts like me get a nostalgic glow off jams from this era (70s baby syndrome?).

For one thing, there’s an amiable party vibe to this track. In fact, it sounds like party noise is piped in below the nice organ and funky, if somewhat standard issue, breakbeat. (Even before I noticed the Prince Paul shout-out, I was pretty sure he was the producer of this track. He and Marley Marl sorta stand astride this time like James Brown-sampling titans.)

Intertwined with the bounce vibe is the lack of menace. The two J’s rip it and rip it clean, no violence, no dread n-words. It’s not soft stuff, and it’s also not rubbing grime in yr face. It’d take a fool to call the turn of the 90s a more innocent time, but songs like this support at least an illusion somewhere in that neighborhood.

Of course, back then the West Coast cats were already boasting of their rock-slangin’ bonafides on record. The precedent had been set, and gangsta would migrate Eastward soon enough. But on “It’s That Simple” Jigga dosn’t invoke his hustling history/persona. Odds are it would’ve drawn disapproval, and maybe more importantly the subject matter would’ve thrown the song off-balance.

Jaz and Jay-Z are making good-times music by and for folks who’ve been through the worst times. It feels relatively lightweight maybe, but it’s a noble enough tradition.

And what of Young Hova’s performance back when he was actually, like, young? He obviously still had more to learn about the potential of wordplay, the depth and variety he could pour into his flow without actually having to rap fast, and the range of emotion he could wring from his voice.

But he had that spark, that confidence that’s always been the core of his appeal. No mean feat when you get one or two verses on someone else’s record to state yr case.

Fast Rap at UndergroundHipHop.com.