Everything that stands now appears like it was always stable.

Dear LL Cool J,

It is important that I write to you. I was born in 1980 so I am not old enough to remember a world of music before you debuted in 1985. You’ve been in my ear my whole life. Living with LL in my headphones makes it perplexing whenever you are described by music critics or media. It was important to write this letter to elaborate on my perspective on misconceptions regarding your career and artistic character.

I understand the confusion. When discussed musically you are linked with stability because of your longevity. This is the trick of history. Everything that stands now appears like it was always stable. You should never be compared to Jay-z who has improved by inches, calculating decisions for marginal growth over a long and fruitful journey. The only person I would compare you against is Kool Keith. That is how experimental and confusing you’ve been over the years. I’d never heard any song that sounded like Jingling Baby until it dropped, fast forward to when I dropped my drink on the floor watching Phenomenon on MTV. Putting on the Fava In Ya Ear remix, standing and throwing my arms up in disbelief exasperated and flatly questioning “What the fuck is LL talking about?! Who starts a verse like that??”

Do you know how many times I’ve said “What the fuck is LL talking about?” You didn’t gain success in calculated measures; you didn’t always look cool. You leapt like the Hulk on the move. It took me years to catch up to each phase. I hated I Need Love so much. Hated your ‘my girlfriends calling hold on’ sexy voice. Everyone knew the skills, everyone I know loves I’m Bad but I could never wrap my head around the directions you took us.

What changed? As an exercise I picked an album the media always says failed you. I wanted to hear the album where LL was supposed to be at his lowest point and find out what I could learn. This was 14 Shots To The Dome (still a gold record as I recall) and it blew me away. Pink Cookies In A Plastic Bag Getting Crushed by Buildings is the perfect LL experience. An idea as sexual as it surreal, as vivid as it is odd… that becomes a smooth groovy ass hip hop song. Somehow the experiments worked and when they did everyone immediately acted like they were safe bets, things everyone always knew.

This letter is a confession. I rooted against you in every major rap conflict: Canibus, Ice-T, Kool Moe Dee, Big Daddy Kane. I could settle myself into the argument that you were too comfortable, a boxer living off jabs. You just kept mushing me directly. Giving the world these monumental moments of force. I can close my eyes and see the unplugged performance. Ten years after Mama Said Knock You Out floored us you dropped an album that added to the public language.

I finally stopped asking why and began studying why. You were the teacher the whole time I thought you were the mad man. Asking if you are the best rapper misses the mark completely. You built the framework/criteria for how a successful rapper is measured.

On Back Where I Belong you promised to “force feed the world even if they don’t want to hear it.” When I heard Passion I knew you were ready for another monumental moment of force. One thing is for sure, you may surprise these kids or these faux historians but I know the strength of will you can expend. I know how dangerous you become when you leave the fog of peer pressure dissipating behind you.

I’ve surpassed any and all expectations of what I would achieve or who I would be in this world. Time and again I’ve disregarded those who told me I’d be lucky to be unimportant. Never dwelling on it because why would you dwell on someone who doesn’t know what they are talking about? It was important to write you this letter because subconsciously I probably learned that from you.

I get it now.

Dan O

Freemusicempire