Artists with strong underground followings love mainstream attempts. But they rarely work. Los Angeles rapper Murs learned that the hard way last year, when his Warner Bros. release sold marginally and definitely didn’t earn him the nationwide fame he would’ve liked and could’ve recieved in a different musical climate. Nowadays, with television almost completely ignoring music videos and sales falling dramatically for even your favorite super-commercial rappers, ‘mainstream’ may mean little more than some shine on the bigger Hip-Hop blogs and a spot on a nationwide tour. Which, as far as I know, is the height of The Jacka’s potential mainstream-ness with Tear Gas, his third, and most ‘commercial,’ album to date. But Bay Area ’slap music’ has never been very accessible to begin with, so adding some catchier beats and big-name features can really only go so far.

That said, The Jacka still uses the slightly-wider platform to put out a solid LP. He recruits cult-loved California MC Andre Nickatini to join him on the made-for-summer single ‘Glamorous Life,’ and is joined (and kind of showed up) by Philly rapper Freeway on the hard-hitting ‘They Don’t Know.’ The latter is the perfect platform for Free to spit his high-pitched rapid fire, over a keyed-out, sample-laced banger that sounds like something he would’ve put on his Month of Madness. And that’s unfortunate, because by the time Jacka starts spitting about the realness of finding religion, you might not be paying attention.

What can’t be overlooked, though, is that the Oakland-born, Pittsburg, Ca.-raised MC is an unquestionably talented rapper. Sometimes he mumbles or slurs on the mic, making it difficult to understand his raps, but for the most part his writing skills come through in his lyrics. For whatever reason, it seems that he doesn’t trust himself to hold down the music alone, sharing the spotlight with a guest on all but four of the tracks. Sometimes that’s for the better, like on the Mistah F.A.B.-assisted ‘Callin’ Me Back’ or on ‘Storm’ with Cormega, when his friends provide interesting outlooks and approaches to the beats. But other times it’s for the worse, like the strange and unnecessary Paul Wall appearance.

Overall, The Jacka’s lyrical dexterity and ability to choose absolutely banging production (supplied mostly by RobLo) makes this album succeed. The pacing is weird (for some reason, the somber ‘Summer’ kicks things off and the not-very-good club tune ‘All Over Me’ concludes the LP), but it doesn’t take away from Tear Gas’s listenability. The Jacka makes sure of that.

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