‘Jealous Kind of Fella’ Singer Garland Green Dead at 83

The cover art for Garland Green's 1969 debut album, "Jealous Kind of Fella," features the singer in his prime. Green, whose title track became a defining anthem of the Chicago soul era, died over the weekend at the age of 83. (Courtesy of Uni Records)

Chicago soul lost one of its essential voices this week.

Garland Green, the Mississippi-born, Chicago-bred singer whose 1969 hit “Jealous Kind of Fellow” became a defining anthem of romantic vulnerability in the late-’60s soul era, has died. He was 83.

The news was confirmed Monday in a public Facebook post by Marshall Thompson, founding member of The Chi-Lites, who wrote that Green “has passed away this morning” and described him as a Chicago hero who “will never be forgotten.” Additional details were not immediately available.

Born Garfield Green Jr. in Dunleith, Mississippi, in 1942, Green was the tenth of 11 children. He relocated to Chicago in 1958 during the latter wave of the Great Migration, arriving at 16 and immersing himself in the city’s rapidly evolving soul scene.

According to multiple biographical accounts, Green was discovered while singing in a pool hall, where local entrepreneur Argia B. Collins heard his voice and helped finance his musical training at the Chicago Conservatory of Music — a formative investment that refined his raw gospel-blues delivery into something both streetwise and orchestral.

 

His breakthrough came in 1969 with “Jealous Kind of Fellow,” released on Uni Records. The song climbed to No. 5 on Billboard’s R&B chart and No. 20 on the Billboard Hot 100, establishing Green as a prominent voice in Chicago’s lush, string-driven soul movement. The record’s restrained anguish — equal parts pleading and pride — made it a staple of dance floors and stepper culture for decades.

While the single remains his most widely recognized recording, Green maintained a steady presence in soul throughout the 1970s. He later recorded for Cotillion Records and worked alongside notable musicians of the era, including Donny Hathaway, further cementing his place within Chicago’s interconnected soul network.

 

Though his commercial visibility waned as disco and later R&B trends shifted, Green continued performing. He relocated to California in 1979 and recorded intermittently for independent labels before stepping away from the studio for an extended period.

He returned in 2012 with the album “I Should’ve Been the One,” a late-career project that demonstrated his voice retained its grit and emotional clarity. In recent years, he continued making select appearances, including performances well into his 80s.

Green’s passing marks another loss in the lineage of Chicago soul architects whose contributions often ran parallel to — but distinct from — Motown’s more heavily mythologized narrative. His catalog may not have been vast, but his signature record remains embedded in the city’s musical DNA.

Lil Jon’s Son, DJ Young Slade, Found Dead at 27 in Georgia Park

Rapper Lil Jon, left, poses with his son, Nathan Smith, following Smith's graduation from New York University in a photo posted to the late producer's social media. Smith, 27, known professionally as DJ Young Slade, was found dead Friday in Milton, Georgia, after being reported missing earlier in the week. (Courtesy of Nathan Smith/Instagram)

After a frantic, agonizing three-day search that held the city’s music community in a suspended state of collective prayer, the worst fears were realized Friday afternoon. Nathan Smith, the 27-year-old producer and DJ known to the world as DJ Young Slade — and to Lil Jon simply as his only child — was found dead in Milton, Georgia.

The discovery came around noon, when divers from the Cherokee County Fire Department recovered Smith’s body from a pond in Mayfield Park, a quiet green space just hundreds of feet from the home where he was last seen running barefoot and disoriented on Tuesday morning.

For a generation raised on the high-octane, tear-the-club-up energy of Lil Jon, the statement issued by the hip-hop legend on Friday was jarring in its devastating quiet.

“I am extremely heartbroken for the tragic loss of our son, Nathan Smith,” Lil Jon said, confirming the news that had begun to ripple through industry text threads earlier in the day. “His mother, Nicole Smith, and I are devastated. Nathan was the kindest human being you would ever meet. He was immensely caring, thoughtful, polite, passionate, and warmhearted.”

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For those who track the lineage of Southern hip-hop, Nathan Smith was the heir apparent to a dynasty. He wasn't a "nepo baby" coasting on a famous surname; he was a skilled technician — an NYU graduate who mastered the boards and possessed an ear that his father frequently credited as the secret weapon in his later career. They were a fixture together, often spinning back-to-back sets at major festivals where the chemistry was undeniable.

The circumstances surrounding his death remain a blur. Police say Smith walked away from his home early Tuesday without his phone or wallet, prompting a massive search involving K-9 units and drones. While the investigation is technically active, authorities were quick to note Friday that there is "no indication of foul play," leaving a grieving family to grapple with a tragedy that feels as senseless as it is final.

“We loved Nathan with all of our hearts and are incredibly proud of him,” the family’s statement concluded, asking for privacy in a moment where the entire culture feels the loss.

Watch: 50 Cent Turns Doordash Super Bowl Ad Into Savage Takedown of Rival Diddy

If pettiness was a currency, Curtis Jackson would be the Federal Reserve.

While most brands are spending $8 million for 30 seconds of airtime to make you cry about Clydesdales or nostalgic car rides, DoorDash just let 50 Cent do what he does best: monetize his enemies. In a new campaign released Thursday ahead of Super Bowl LX, the rapper-turned-mogul officially graduated from "Internet Troll" to "Corporate Troll," and the result is a masterclass in disrespect.

The spot, titled "The Big Beef," is technically about getting food delivered. But let's be real — this is a diss track with a corporate budget. And yes, he absolutely went there with the prison sentence.

The Art of the "Big Beef"

The commercial opens with 50 Cent sitting on a leather couch—bottle of his own Branson Cognac visibly placed on the table, because of course it is—addressing the elephant in the room with the smirk of a man who knows he’s untouchable.

"It's come to my attention that everyone's calling me a troll," he says. "Some have said even the 'King of Trolls.' First of all, I'm flattered. But I'm done with all that."

He then claims he would never "literally deliver beef when millions of people are watching," before the screen cuts to a title card that simply reads: "50 Cent Would."

From there, it’s open season. As he unpacks a DoorDash bag, he offers a tutorial on how to handle "beef," noting that it is "more of an art than science." And this is where the references start flying over the heads of casual viewers and landing directly on the chin of Sean "Diddy" Combs.

The Breakdown: How 50 Cent Dissected Diddy

If you blinked, you missed the daggers. Here is how 50 Cent turned a grocery run into a breakdown of his rival:

• The "Puffs" Gag: While explaining that "you don't want to be too obvious," 50 pulls out a bag of Cheese Puffs. He holds them up just long enough for the "Puff" reference to register, stares at the camera, and deadpans the line about subtlety.

• The "Combs" Disrespect: The most blatant moment comes when he reaches back into the bag and pulls out a multipack of hair combs. "Oh, they sell combs," he says, examining the package with mock surprise. "What a coincidence." He then tosses them over his shoulder like trash.

• The "Branson/50 Months" Synergy: This is the killshot. 50 pulls out a bottle of his own Branson Cognac, noting that it pairs perfectly with beef. He then delivers the line that made the timeline freeze: "Aged 4 years... or 50 months, who's counting?"

The Context (For Those Who Missed It)

This is a triple-layered joke. First, he's plugging his liquor (Branson VSOP is aged 4 years). Second, he's referencing the passage of time.

Third, and most ruthlessly, he is mocking Diddy’s specific prison sentence. For those who haven't checked the Bureau of Prisons roster, Diddy was sentenced to exactly 50 months in prison last October. 50 Cent isn't just throwing out a random number; he is using his own product's specs to mock his rival's incarceration.

Why It Works

In an era where Super Bowl commercials try too hard to be "viral," this one succeeds because it feels authentic to who 50 Cent is. He isn't acting; he's just being the same guy who executive produced Sean Combs: The Reckoning.

Most importantly, he’s multitasking. In 40 seconds, he sold you a DoorDash discount, promoted his own cognac, and danced on his enemy's legal grave.

Authentic is one word for it. Ruthless is another. Either way, 50 Cent just proved that while other rappers release diss tracks, he releases business ventures.