It’s difficult to quantify the enormity of Jamal Edwards’s loss – he showed Black people we are enough

As one of Britain’s first Black media moguls, Jamal encompassed true vision and a blueprint for innovation born out of a pure love for community and culture

SBTV founder Jamal Edwards has died, aged 31, following a sudden illness (PA Archive)

On Sunday, the news of Jamal Edwards’ death broke: news that absolutely no one wanted to read. A vigil is being held in his name; evidence of how much he meant to those who loved and respected him: myself included.

I remember seeing Jamal on the cover of Live! magazine, a community publication based in Brixton, about 15 years ago and being so inspired by seeing a young Black man who looked like me, my brothers and cousins, being deservedly lauded.

As a bereaved and misunderstood teenager with a flair for penmanship, seeing that cover and others like it from Live! inspired me to pursue my goal of writing professionally – and from there I began to pursue creative writing through free workshops and involvement in projects around my borough, poetry, spoken word, short plays then broadcast journalism internships and print journalism.

I had no idea our paths would cross later on in life, leaving me struck by not only his success but impressed by his down-to-earth disposition and friendly nature.

The 31-year-old pioneer gained fame after setting up SB.TV, a cutting-edge YouTube music channel in 2006, and is credited with helping to launch a string of UK music acts to stardom, including Ed Sheeran, Dave, Lady Leshurr and Jessie J.

But Jamal was so much more than an entrepreneur; there were many strings to his bow. He was an artist by the name of Smokey Barz, a director, best-selling author, creative, philanthropist, DJ, producer, role model, a friend, a family member, a brother and a son. He was more than this, though, too – a cultural phenomenon, a titan of Black British music.

As one of Britain’s first Black media moguls, Jamal encompassed true vision and a blueprint for innovation born out of a pure love for community and culture.

Having received a camcorder for Christmas at the age of 15, Jamal set about filming local stars in order to showcase their abilities simply because no one else was doing it.

From there, he went on to build an empire that helped launch many music careers, realise many dreams and put nuff food on tables – especially that of young British men and disenfranchised families at the fringe of the society who are often quickly written off as a “less-than” by suits navigating the upper echelons and running the big record labels.

Limitless potential has been unleashed into the world because of his foresight, drive and determination to showcase the best of what we had to offer at a time when mainstream platforms didn’t understand or want to know (usually both).

Yet, the UK grime and hip hop scene was growing; and with it came an appetite for viewers to access the talent and hear artists – known and unknown – and spit bars.

As far as Black music went, mainstream radio stations and TV channels were pretty much exclusively feeding us music from America. The likes of SB.TV and Channel U gave a welcome alternative that reflected our realities and chutzpah.

Jamal himself said: “I didn’t start out thinking I was going to be an entrepreneur, I just provided a service. And people have grown with the story. It grew organically and I grew with it.”

And, in turn, people of my generation grew along with him.

One man with one camera and one vision not only championed local stars but, by default, broadened the horizons of those of us who were fortunate enough to bear witness in real time. People like me had a front row seat to all of this – I’m two years younger than Jamal – and were inspired to discover our own purpose and walk in it too.

To many of us, particularly those of his generation, Jamal was a walking blueprint of success. He legitimised Black British media entrepreneurship, which centred Black culture, before it was fashionable. Through his example, Jamal reminded us that we are enough.

His work and message reflected unsung inner city genius and warmth within a wider society that left many of us in the cold against a backdrop of socioeconomic plight and council estates.

“You never know what you might create, or the change you might inspire,” he once said.

You didn’t have to know the lyrics of the artists featured on SB.TV to appreciate Jamal’s undertaking. I could never emcee like some of my peers, but I would sometimes learn one or two new songs, enhance my perspective and bask in the elevation of the best that they had to offer by following the platform. It was like a virtual lesson on how to shine and be an authentic version of yourself.

There were some seismic cultural moments in there too. English Frank’s warm-up session comes to mind; I remember my cousins and I gathered around the big-back desktop computer to watch it, laughing in admiration at his bars, delivery and sheepskin coat, only to quote his lyrics years later during banter.

And when Jamal really made it, he turned his hand to various philanthropic and social endeavours in order to help those who were most in need through mental health awareness, youth advocacy and mentorship, to name a few.

The man never forgot where he came from – and, true to his Windrush roots, Jamal always repped his St Vincent and the Grenadines heritage. He knew that you’ve got to overstand [Caribbean terminology which means to have complete grasp of] your roots to understand the path that lies ahead.

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It’s difficult to quantify the enormity of Jamal’s loss.

I can tell you that many people started this week with the heaviest of hearts and are struggling to grapple with the shocking sadness of this news. He was ours, lots of us feel – and I hope everyone understands that Black communities in particular, up and down the UK, are in a state of collective mourning.

However, these feelings pale in comparison to the pain that his mother Brenda, sister, family and close friends must be experiencing right now.

What a legacy Jamal has left behind – one that will surely outlive us all.