I had to get a late pass when it comes to Shady Blaze. I’m
not at all familiar with his solo material, although I just recently started
listening to his very good collaborative album with Deniro Farrar (whose music
I was also a latecomer to). I really have no idea what his subject matter is
usually like, or how polished his music generally is.[1]
A week ago, Shady Blaze released a loose track called “Rest
in Peace R.J.” R.J. is Blaze’s son, who was born three months premature, hung
on for twenty days, and then passed away. Blaze recorded “Rest in Peace R.J.”
three days after his son’s death. There is a great tradition of painful story
songs in rap history, from R.A. the Rugged Man’s embodiment of his father’s
Vietnam experience in “Uncommon Valor” to Big L’s story of growing up in poverty
in “How Will I Make It” to Ghostface Killah’s recollection of a friend dying in
his arms in “Impossible,” but this song is the most painful one I have ever
heard. The detail is excruciating, the verses rough, sounding almost
unfinished, the emotion so fresh that it’s difficult to listen to. But the song’s
urgency is its most striking quality. It sounds as if he couldn’t do anything
other than rap after losing his son. His art is the only thing that could sustain him in the days after his experience.
As he says at the beginning of the song, “this is like the only way I know how
to release, you know, my feelings. I don’t know what else to do anymore.”
I can’t begin to understand what Shady Blaze’s life must be
like now, but my condolences go out to him and his family.
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