Ja Rule was once assailed by fans and critics for the sin of self-importance in an industry built on narcissism. The Hollis, Queens rapper’s frequent references to martyrdom and attempts to associate himself with the legacy of Tupac Shakur seemed to bespeak an artist whose ego knew no bounds, and seemed to outstrip even the excesses of “Nas Escobar” and “the god emcee…Jay-hova”. Tupac’s melodrama was tempered by passionate sincerity and his own well publicized legal troubles; by contrast Ja Rule’s always came across as haughty, spoiled and insubstantial. Martyrdom? Was the rapper who made millions off crossover hits with the likes of Jennifer Lopez and Ashanti (clumsily) playing a role designed to attract fans, was he too thin-skinned to handle sudden fame, or was he, as his rapper persona suggested, simply self-involved enough to develop a persecution complex?
Some of his signature melodramatic flourishes dominate The Mirror, but in the rapper’s defense between the release of this album and his last, the rapper did go through quite a lot. Having halted his recording output in the wake of the trials of Irv Gotti and Kenneth “Supreme” McGriff did not help matters, he inadvertently gave credence to 50 Cent’s boast that the G-Unit general had ended Ja’s career with a long-running smear campaign. Persistent rumors of tension between the label’s songstress Ashanti and label head Irv Gotti did not help matters.
So sure, Ja’s drama might not match the level of attacks from a standing Vice President, a shooting, incarceration, and a bi-coastal rivalry with a former friend à la Mr. Shakur. But a six year beef with three of hip-hop’s biggest stars – Eminem, Dr. Dre and 50 Cent, as well as a steady erosion in his own commercial success demands listeners cut him some slack, even if he does name drop Tupac halfway through the second song.
The Mirror, which leaked shortly before its planned release in 2007 and was then leaked deliberately by the rapper a short time ago, purports to be a more personal album than some of his previous offerings. But after the spastic Uh-Ohhh! with the ubiquitous Lil Wayne, Ja is back to crooning for the ladies as if it were 2002 again on Body and the overblown and misogynistic Ladies which awkwardly incorporates a sample from Jay-Z’s Girls, Girls, Girls from The Blueprint (read review). And that’s what most of the album is save for the expected shots thrown at 50 and company, notably on the rousing 300, as well as some insults hurled at both Ashanti and DMX, on the provocative, AutoTune employing Judas. There are some solid street tracks here, like Enemy of the State, but nothing at all groundbreaking. And there is nothing here at all that comes close to matching his previous pop success, though Damn tries hard to follow the template. He seems content to wallow in his faux introspection, such as his grandiloquent triple cadence meditation on Father Forgive Me, which weakly interpolates The Beatles’ All The Lonely People.
Ja, at his best is a surprisingly effective pop rapper, his gruff voice providing just enough grit to contrast nicely with a singer’s R&B; vocals. Introspection ill-suits him because he is either dishonest or incapable of being honest. It’s likely you’ll never get from him a coherent take on the beef à la Jay-Z’s Blueprint 2 on The Blueprint 2: The Gift and The Curse (read review), Nas’ Last Real N—- Alive on God’s Son (read review), or Eminem’s Toy Soldiers on Encore (read review), or a track uncluttered by his own delusions of grandeur. Instead, there’s the persecution complex, the snarkiness, and the denial. This at least is a clear reflection of who Ja is, a pop rapper who believes himself entitled to universal respect without providing a clear, consistent, and compelling portrait of who he is as a man. Instead, he seems content to petulantly cycle through rap tropes – a shame given his considerable talents.
