Driving down the highway “Always on Time” featuring Ashanti pulses through the speakers of my 2013 Hyundai Elantra. I immediately start to bounce, raise my right hand and belt the words as I am transported back to a simpler time in life: middle school. Now, a young, modish professional who prefers business suits to short shorts, gone is the wilder, less modest teenager of my past. Although the new and more conservative me enjoys displaying less and leaving more to the imagination, I cannot pretend that name rings and Baby Phat jumpsuits do not send waves of nostalgia rushing my way.
In fact, I can’t pretend it’s been a while since I’ve heard you last, Ja Rule Pandora, as I am guilty of indulging in your late-'90s/early-2000s rap far too frequently than I’d like to admit. The truth is, Amy Winehouse, Ingrid Michaelson, Regina Spektor and Hozier playlists have got nothing on you. You bring people together one “spoiled milk” and “sunshine” reference at a time. Not only do you cycle songs by Jeffrey Atkins (better known as Ja Rule), you also play a number of hits by other artists who conjure up memories of first loves, friendship, and in my case, first kisses for a bunch of '90s babies across the globe. Listening to your music is like viewing every poignant memory in the timeline of my existence.
When “Hate It or Love It” by 50 Cent and The Game plays, I instantly think of my high school love, and the night our lips met for the first time over a game of “Spin the Phone.” In lieu of a bottle, our awkward 12-year-old selves sat in a circle spinning a cordless telephone and hoping it landed on each other. To push the experience over the romantic edge, 50 Cent played on repeat from the family stereo over periodic sounds of me inhaling Abercrombie’s “Fierce” cologne and a friend tapping away at the Bop-It game console. Fast-forward 10 years, and I am in the corner room on third floor Alumni hall holding a beverage and staring down at a dilapidated box of Domino’s thin crust cheese pizza while Cam’Ron smoothly asks “hey ma, what’s up?” All of my friends are sitting — again — in a circle, when the song comes on. We immediately become teenagers cheering and passing an invisible microphone around in a girls-only rap battle. A friend recently deemed this as “the best worst year of our lives.”
You, Ja Rule Pandora, have helped many a '90s baby through the best of times and the worst of times. For those who have recently learned that a significant other has cheated, there is “How Could You” by Mario. For those overcoming a broken heart, “So Sick” by Ne-Yo never fails to disappoint. For those swiping incessantly on Tinder, Big Pun is there to remind listeners that crushing a lot doesn’t necessitate the label of “playa.” Finally, for those reminiscing about the one that got away, “My Boo” by Usher reminds us that there is one particular someone that will always have our hearts.
So, Ja Rule Pandora, thank you. Thank you for consistently allowing me to remember the people and places I’ve known. Thank you for joining me for all of the car rides, therapy sessions and house parties during my youth, and thank you for allowing me to add a very imperfect arsenal of dance moves to my repertoire. Finally, on behalf of all the '90s babies who grew up with your songs, thank you for reminding us that every thug needs a lady, and that every person needs Ja Rule Pandora.
