(t5!) Heroes Of The Zeroes Singles: #12: Outkast - Ms. Jackson (2001)

OutKast’s run of singles from 2000 to 2009 has been terrific. Not really in terms of quantity —Ludacris owns that crown—but just the vanquishing level of quality of their hits and how unanimously cherished they are. When discussed about, three OutKast singles always come up and considered as songs that belong to pantheons. However, “Ms. Jackson” is almost never venerated as much as the other two. If you explore other end-decade lists of singles, this will always receive the bronze medal. I’m not here to argue that though (I do have the other two coming up in this list which will remain nameless to avoid spoiling things); it’s just that it’s unfair that “Ms. Jackson”, while a #1 hit and won OutKast’s Grammy’s, is somehow forgotten, even when it’s only a mega-fraction of a step behind its companions.

What’s even staggering about the three OutKast giant singles is that each had a different reason why they are so sensational. One of them is so amazing because it displays categorical bliss. The other one is so amazing because of its unbridled tenacity. This one is so amazing because it’s verification that the duo of Big Boi and Andre 3000 are masters when it comes to practicing, as they themselves would say it, the acts of storytelling. “Ms. Jackson” is a narrative about the sense of remorse and heartbreak that is linked to separation of couples. But what makes this unique from every other break-up song is that never have I come across a song that journeyed towards this angle. It’s basically an apology to your ex-girl’s mother, a resentment that cripples you with guilt and frustration.

Like always, Andre 3000 and Big Boi approached the subject matter from different directions. The chorus itself summed up what Andre 3000 is feeling perfectly: “I’m sorry Ms. Jackson, but I am for real. Never meant to make your daughter cry, I apologize a trillion times.” You can almost hear him hang his head down in shame as he sings the words. What he felt was sincere and if he could undo everything that happened, he would. But he explains to his “baby’s momma’s momma” that even real love turns sour. “Forever never seems that long until you're grown”, and everyone that had high school sweethearts certainly can nod their head in agreement.

When talking about “Ms. Jackson”, Big Boi’s contribution is often overlooked (mainly because of Andre 3000’s “forever, forever, ever, forever, ever?” hook that Kanye referenced in “Diamonds In Sierra Leone” and because, unlike his partner, he wasn’t rapping to a celebrity like Erykah Badu, the daughter of the real life Ms. Jackson). His verses are coated with exasperation. Here’s a guy that, in spite of all the turmoil of a broken relationship, loves the child it produced. And he is willing to do everything, like pay more than adequate child support, to become a responsible parent if it wasn’t for a rigid grandmother whose hatred is keeping Big Boi from seeing his own child. “She be doin things like havin’ them boys come from her neighborhood to the studio tryin’ to fight me.” If you were Big Boi, wouldn’t you write a hate song too?

Because of the noteworthiness of the duo's verses, we haven't even talked about the beat yet. Because of how deft their rapping usually is, it isn't uncommon that the accompaniment gets the backseat. In fact, I usually know who's responsible for a famous rap song's beat (half because a producer has their signature all over it, half because they usually stand out too much to not be acknowledged so I go on and look up who's responsible). However, I don't think I knew who the Outkast's beat-makers are, at least not until I started writing these mini heroes of the zeroes essays. For the record, some guy from Atlanta named Earthtone III composed this beat (responsible for "B.O.B." as well as other notable Outkast songs) and upon hearing this beat, it's understandable why he hasn't constructed anything else significant other than songs from OutKast and other Dungeon Family scions. If a producer can devise a masterpiece like "Ms. Jackson"—a swirling array of prolonged church organs, backward and frontward percussions, and a finger piano version of the "Wedding March"—I wouldn't want to share him with others either.

Even though it’s clear now that if the three OutKast singles were the Boston Big Three, “Ms. Jackson” would be Ray Allen—doesn’t have the intensity of Kevin Garnett and is not the fan favorite like Paul Pierce. Nevertheless, they’re all Hall of Famers in everyone’s book. With all the Andre 3000/Big Boi split talks and Andre 3000 seemingly more interested in putting his energy in making film nowadays, it’ll be interesting to see if OutKast can survive into the tens. So we should all be filled with gratitude by Outkast for pumping out three songs like these that belong in the upper echelons of music and pop culture, in spite of which rankings we put them in.