In 2016, the conservative-leaning New York Post outed Kaseem Ryan‘s career as a New York City firefighter, in which he was a 9/11 first responder and rose to the rank of captain. You see, the Post took umbrage with the “anti-cop” rhetoric in his raps and felt the need to lift the veil of the rapper known as Ka, one of the genre’s most mysterious figures.
Ka approached rap music differently than his peers. He produced most of his songs and music videos, often during his off time from saving lives as a fireman. His words came across as brutal, humble, calm, and wise all at once. His beats evoked a cold winter night when the only people outside were the hustlers and the late-night stragglers looking for that last fix before the sun comes up and the block gets hot again. He would host pop-ups to sell his latest albums and meet his fans. Most of the time the only way to hear his music was to go to his website and buy it directly from him. And he would handle every online order himself. He was truly a man of and for the people, and he believed in the sanctity of hip-hop to his core.
In 2012, while sitting down with Out Da Box TV, Ka explained his creative process and how he felt about the state of hip-hop at the time. “I’m a purist. To me hip-hop is a beautiful artform that I feel isn’t being respected as such now,” he said before going on a minor rant about the trend of not writing rhymes popularized by acts Jay-Z and Lil Wayne. “I was taking offense to all that shit,” he added. “Ayo, B, it takes time to sculpt. [The] Sistine Chapel wasn’t done [on] how fast you could do it; the shit was done over years. David wasn’t sculpted in, you know, ‘Yo, I did that in a day.’ There’s no time on art. When I’m doing a verse, it takes me a long time to do the verse, and as far as doing the verse, I’m speaking from a lifetime of experiences. It took a lifetime to write that.”
His approach was just as profound as his music. There are lines from his work that stick to you. On the song “I’m Ready” from his 2013 album The Knight’s Gambit, towards the end of the chorus he raps, “If judged by a scale I pray my righteousness is heavy/ I’m ready, I’m ready” in his raspy voice as if he was already grappling with the prospect of what awaits him beyond this life. I would say that his righteousness was indeed heavy, judging by the outpouring of kind words from his peers and fans alike. Frequent collaborator and one half of their group Metal Clergy, Roc Marciano called Ka his “big brother” and “guardian angel.” The Alchemist called him “a living prophet.” Fans posted pictures of themselves with him at his pop-ups and mentioned how accessible and friendly he was.
His art resonated with people because they felt the effort he put in and the pain he was holding inside. Sure, he was a captain for the FDNY, but he grew up in Brownsville during the crack era, and seemed to be working through survivor’s remorse in his music. “I wanted them to know this is personal what I’m giving you,” he said in that same Out Da Box interview. “This is blood I’m giving you. I’m not spittin’ this s–t, this is blood. I needed them to know that, to appreciate it, that if you don’t hear a lot from me, it’s because I’m pulling a lot from me and I’m actually expending a lot of energy to give you these songs. So, I just want you to appreciate it.”
And we did.
An artist like Ka wasn’t defined by numbers or trophies — he was defined by the art, by the culture, by the people. In an interview with Passion of the Weiss, he spoke on living two lives and what he wanted his legacy to be. “I’m living two lives, man. I’m trying to be who I am in the day and then trying to feed my soul at night with being the artist that I want to be,” he told the outlet. “I want to respect the culture and give back what it gave to me. The reason I’m alive right now is because of hip-hop.
He continued about the music that saved his life: “It made me want to be a smarter person. It made me want to read, so I would write better rhymes. It was that important to me. It gave me drive; I wanted to be the best MC there ever was. Hip-hop don’t have a museum like this yet but if we have, I want to be a wing. I want to be my own f–king room, the Ka chamber right here. ‘At the time he was doing it, there wasn’t a lot of light on it, but yo, we went back and checked it, that s–t was incredible’ — that’s what I want. Van Gogh, he wasn’t revered, he cut his ear off and killed himself later on. That man wasn’t known until years after his death – he needed to have known what he was during the time he was alive.”
Ka leaves this life behind as being one of the best rappers of his era and as an even better man. It’s our duty now to continue to tell his story and put people on to his music, so that he can live forever.