Method Man & Redman - Blackout!

Def Jam 2000: 1999

I'm not sure where this album sits in the Grand Rap Pantheon anymore. I recall it was a big deal during the lead-up. Meth and Red had a huge collaborative hit in How High, dropping in that oh-so glorious year of hip-hop fire, 1995. And while Method Man's solo career stalled throughout the '90s, Redman kept a steady clip of respected albums going, so a proper full-length outing from the two would be hotly anticipated. Only, in typical Johnny Blaze fashion, the LP dropped nearly half a decade after How High lit up, causing some to lose interest in this collaboration in the process. Let's call those people 'sour pusses'.

So Blackout! finally dropped, and even though folks were wondering if Method Man had fallen off, or if any Wu project could have the same fire as earlier in the decade, it sold buckets. Clearly they still liked Method Man anytime he held the mic or guested on other verses. Surely his charisma would properly shine with an equally skilled microphone commander at his side, the two trading sharp barbs and chin-checka' raps and such. Or the two had been getting so smoked out in the interim, putting this off for so long, that the final result was an album that was good enough, but not the head-banging classic everyone expected. Again, I'm not sure how Blackout! is regarded these days, but man, did it ever feel like a whiff of THC-thick air bellowing out of a bong mere weeks after this came out. They came, they smoked, they rapped, they partied, then they kinda' forgot what the fuss was about in the first place. Oh well, time to start shopping about that script for their own Cheech & Chong movie.

I sense Meth and Red would be fun live, most of the tracks on here little more than party anthems for them to rappity-rap over. Yeah, there's some witty wordplay and fun puns about, but these two aren't going to get super deep with the heavy political or lyrical miracles. Just two stoners going on about how dope they are, how dope their smoked dope be, and how much they love gettin' down with them ladies and hos. So long as the beats bang, they can rap about any ol' nonsense. And that's where I feel this album stumbles some.

There's quite the assortment of Wu and Def Squad personnel behind the consoles on Blackout!, including RZA, Erick Sermon, Mathematics, and Reggie Noble. Even Rockwilder shows up (on Da Rockwilder), while features have Ghostface, Street Life, LL Cool J, Missy Elliot, and Ja Rule, when he was still credible. Seems all fine, but neither guest rapper or beat producer do much to outshine whatever Method Man and Redman are going on about. Which would be fine, if the duo were dropping relentless fire throughout. Instead, all I hear is the hot flame in a burning bowl of dank bud, soon puffed out into a stoned stupor. Seems appropriate.

LL Cool J - Mr. Smith

Def Jam Recordings: 1995

Can't be a proper hip-hop head without a little LL Cool J in my collection. Just a shame it's taken me this long to get some. No, wait, that's not true - I did have a Cool J album before, his G.O.A.T. album when I first got into hip-hop. I liked it enough to nab me a copy, but when it came time for the Great CD Pawning Of 2002 (unemployed ass gotta' pay for ramen noodles somehow), it didn't survive the purge. No great loss by most accounts, and while LL's remained an active name in the world of rap, I haven't been compelled to keep tabs on his music. That doesn't excuse me from skipping on his early classics though, so maybe this will finally get my ass hunting for those albums you're supposed to have, even if you're not a LL Cool J fan.

Actually, I think I've already accomplished this with Mr. Smith ...kind of. While not a critical darling on the same level as Bigger And Deffer or Mama Said Knock You Out, it was a successful commercial turnaround for LL after a weak jump on the gangsta fad of the early '90s. Propped up by Platinum-selling singles that catered to the lucrative R&B crowd, even folks who'd never bothered with his '80s output were buying this album up.

That's damn impressive considering how most rappers from the previous decade were constantly being upstaged by fresher talents. For sure those only after the grittiest, grimiest street tales wouldn't have much use for Mr. Smith, but there's a much wider audience than that in the Urban scene, and Cool J tapped into it perfectly. Hell, I remember Doin' It being quite the hit even in my backwoods region of Canada, if only because as snarky teenagers, we'd do mocking sarcastic renditions of the chorus. Joke's on us though, LL soon appearing on Demographic-Approved soundtracks like Beavis And Butthead Do America and Space Jam.

So the R&B tunes were the big hits (including Boyz II Men collab' Hey Lover, and Loungin with the Puff Daddy-produced duo Total). How's the rest of Mr. Smith, then? Good enough, I suppose – no embarrassing attempts at being thug at least. LL gets in several braggadocios cuts showing off his lyrical skills for 'real hip-hop heads', including Make It Hot, I Shot Ya, No Airplay, Mr. Smith, Get Da Drop On 'Em. He also gets in a couple wordplay cuts, one toying with movie titles (Hollis To Hollywood), another giving props to rap acts over the years (Hip Hop). This one's oddly placed in the album though, second track status when it feels like it should be plugged near the end as a tribute.

Production wise, most tunes are handled by a then-new talent called TrackMasters, who's smooth, Eastcoast style would lead them to producing such prominent names like Nas, Foxy Brown, Noreaga, Method Man, and Will Smith. Eh, I'll take Rashad Smith's dubby style myself. He later got Busta Rhymes.

Method Man - Tical 2000: Judgement Day

Def Jam Recordings: 1998

A four year gap isn’t that much, all things considered. ‘90s hip-hop though, things were moving fast, stars rising and falling at an unprecedented rate, fueled by an MC arms race to the top of Mount Brag-N-Swagmore. Your label could only achieve immortal greatness if you had the best talent signed to your print. Death Row had 2Pac, Bad Boy had Biggie, No Limit had Snoop Dogg, Loud had Wu-Tang Clan, and so on. Def Jam had many legends to their name too, but most of them had established careers, showing little of the spit and fire needed that propelled the emergent labels of the ‘90s to the top. As a quick signee to Def Jam after the smashing success of Wu-Tang’s debut, Method Man looked to be the breakout star of the group, one that would usher in a new generation of hungry MCs for the storied print that Rick Rubin built.

One problem though: Mr. Clifford Smith wasn’t interested in being a solo star, completely content sharing the spotlight as part of a back-n-forth (Redman, Street Life) or a crew of equally charismatic rappers (Wu-Tang, Monstars, heh). All fine and well if one’s career aspirations stay humble, but when everyone from the fans on the streets to the CEOs in the record label towers demand more, four years turns to an agonizing wait, one the Ticallion Stallion gleefully mocks in Tical 2000 through a series of phone call skits. People ranging from accountants to radio DJs to even the tribble-cultivator Trump himself all chime in wondering what the bloodclot is taking Meth’ so long with this album.

Figuring out a theme would be my guess. Of course the nearing millennium would spark some inspiration, but aside from the opening and closing tracks (Perfect World and Judgement Day), it’s not a subject touched upon. Instead, Johnny Blaze runs the gamut of witty wordplay, sexy wordplay, thug life wordplay, club don’ wordplay, and that’s about it. Hey, it’s not like the subject matter in his lyrics have mattered much of a damn - Method Man could have excelled through sheer charisma alone, his deft skills on the mic’ keeping you hooked once reeled in.

Unfortunately, even that isn’t enough to save Tical 2000 from the sin of filler. Despite folks clamoring for more Method Man, most everyone agrees there’s too much bloat given the limited amount of topics covered. No matter how solid the beats are or how hype the guest spots are (seriously, I’ve never heard Street Life sound this good!), it all turns to repetitive mush in the back-half. It probably doesn’t help that the midpoint offers a hilarious Chris Rock skit, where the comedian goes on a never ending spree of Method Man aliases that cannot be stopped by gunshot, nor rabid dogs, nor rabid dolphins. Hell, he can’t even be killed by fire, and even The Thing could be killed by fire. After a high such as that, there’s only down to go.

Method Man - Tical

Def Jam Recordings: 1994

Over three years since I dropped my first Wu-Tang Clan review, I’m finally doing a solo album from the M.E.T.H.O.D. Man. That’s just silly. Consider: I’ve talked up four Raekwon LPs, four Ghostface LPs, three from Deck, three from GZA, plus efforts from RZA, ODB, Masta Killa, and even U-God! Also consider: one Clifford Smith kicked-off the solo Wu-joint concept, his debut dropping but a year after Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). While it seemed likely a few of these MCs could sustain a career away from the Clan, there was little doubt Method Man was the breakout of the group, destined for superstar greatness in the world of hip-hop. It, um, didn’t quite turn out that way, explicitly because he never fully capitalized on all that initial momentum and good fortune. His album output has been sporadic and frequently underwhelming, yours truly seldom feeling the need to dig beyond his ‘90s output. And since his first few LPs centered on the concept of “tical”, here’s poor ol’ Cliff, way down in the ‘T’s of my CDs, thus bringing up the rear of Wu-Tang Clan solo joint reviews. Not that he’d give a shit either way.

Way back when though, everything looked peachy-keen for Johnny Blaze, his gruff charisma landing him a quick deal with hip-hop’s premier print, Def Jam Recordings. And why not, the label that gave us LL Cool J, Beastie Boys, Public Enemy, and Slick Rick undoubtedly anxious to get in on that hot Wu-Tang stylee, with nothing less than the group’s star MC as part of their official roster. And for sure, they got themselves some future classics of the hip-hop pantheon with Tical. Bring The Pain oozes street swagger with all the freestylin’ lyricism as found in his classic eponymous track from Enter The Wu-Tang. All I Need is a surprisingly affectionate ‘slum love song’ establishing ol’ Method as a rough ‘n’ tumble ladies man. And Release Yo’ Delf is a fun, rugged anthem for the club. The rest of Tical though… ah, hm.

As was the case on all the early Wu-solo records, RZA handles the bulk of the beats, and as Method Man has a gruff, gravely persona, so too does the music provided. Everything sounds rough, unpolished, dragged through Shaolin grime and muck, covered in a thick fog of hemp smoke. And dear Lord, some of the bass on this is absolutely crushing, the heaviest you’ll hear on nearly any Wu-Tang album. Sub Crazy alone must have broken many a poor, unsuspecting sub-whoofer. Sometimes though, it’s too much, the bass burying Meth’ and any other MC in the mixdown - Biscuits in particular is downright indecipherable. Yet given how clear the lyrics come through in other tracks, I can only assume the muddiness is intentional on RZA’s part, maintaining the Wu’s ghetto-grit mystic even as they began their empire expansion. Personally, I dig it, but Tical is left a difficult album to get into, one capably aided with an eponymous substance.

Ghostface - The Pretty Toney Album

Def Jam Recordings: 2004

This is the exact moment when Ghostface Killah surpassed any need of Wu-Tang association as a hip-hop talent. Following The Pretty Toney Album, it was clear Mr. Coles was on a totally different level as a solo MC compared to his Clan fam’, and could carry on a successful career without them should he so choose - yep, Wu-Tang breakup rumours were rampant at this time. Fueling that gossipy narrative was the fact nary a Clan member nor their second and third tier MCs have guest verses on this album, a first for any of the group's solo LPs (RZA and True Master did contribute a couple productions though). It led to ridiculous amounts of speculation over whether there was beef between Ghost and Wu-Tang, which he immediately quashes with an opening mock interview skit, but it'd be a few years before it finally simmered away.

There was another factor to all the talk, however; with The Pretty Toney Album, Ghostface was the only Clan member to have a standout solo album up to that point in the new millennium (though Masta Killa's debut wasn't too far ahead). Granted, hindsight's shown that LPs from GZA, Inspectah Deck, and so on weren't awful, but it seemed no one else was maintaining the creative fire that propelled Wu-Tang through the '90s like he was. Def Jam must have believed as much, signing him once his deal with Epic passed, all but cementing his status among the upper hip-hop echelon. Good thing Mr. Coles gave them solid albums and confirming their support was justified, unlike some other Wu members (sorry, Meth').

As The Pretty Toney Album was his debut on Def Jam, the album comes off like a showcase for Ghostface’s various styles of MCing. Okay, he tends to have only one style, a near-breathless stream of conscious attack filled with hyperbole and slang, but his preferred topics range from street tales, near pornographic come-ons, or persona acting. Most of his albums find him sticking to one, but not here. We get various crime sagas with Biscuits, Run (along with Jadakiss), and It’s Over, while relationship shit goes down in Save Me Dear, Tooken Back, and Push (with Missy Elliot at the summit of her powers). A few other topics are scattered about, like Ghost simply spitting fire over lesser MCs (Ghostface, Beat The Clock), plus his obligatory softy song in Love. I can’t say all of these are Tony Starks at his absolute best, but it’s a great primer if you were just getting into his music (a decade late, somehow).

And the beats? Man, you better love them old funk and soul jams, because Ghostface loves them so much, he barely alters his samples at all. At least a third of these tracks is just him rapping over the original songs from the ‘60s and ‘70s, a few tweaks and edits the only noticeable difference, though I honestly don’t know for sure. My knowledge of the soul classics is the bunk.

Beastie Boys - Licensed To Ill

Def Jam Recordings: 1986/1996

A landmark album of sorts, it proved you could trick white frat boys into liking that ‘black’ ‘rap’ ‘music’, provided it was bundled with as cliché a cock-rock anthem as you could make in the ‘80s. I think that was the point, Fight For Your Right an intentional parody of said culture, but of course the meat-headed jocks of the world wouldn’t get it. In fact, ask the Beastie Boys about their inspiration in creating Licensed To Ill, and they'll claim the whole album is one big joke. It's certainly goofy, I'll give it that, but for a collection of bratty hip-hop fronted by three white teenagers, it's held up remarkably well.

Does it have the stunning production later Beastie LPs hold? No, the technology just wasn't there in the mid-'80s, much less for a start-up label being run by some former punk guy who'd seemingly lucked out in signing future stars like LL Cool J and... okay, so only LL and the Beasties were the rising stars in Def Jam's early years; Slayer, too. Point is the bearded one Rubin didn't have much to work with other than bare-bones 808 rhythms, oodles of rock records to pilfer hooks and samples for, and a knack for a hook that complemented the Beastie Boys' back-and-forth raps. Already a successful formula for Run DMC, Licensed To Ill took the 'rock-n-hop' template to commercial heights never before seen, almost exclusively thanks to having a hit single that had nothing to do with hip-hop. Fortunately, The New Style, She’s Crafty, Rhymin & Stealin, and No Sleep Till Brooklyn prove it was a formula that could be milked more than once.

Even then, ol’ Rick and the Boys throw in a few clever tracks so Mr. 808 doesn’t get tiresome. Posse In Effect has a fun electro-snare splash going on, Paul Revere craftily loops its drum breaks in reverse, honking horns form the hook in Brass Monkey (that funky monkey junkie!), and pitched-up marching bells get lodged in your noggin’ after hearing Girls. Good stuff, given the limited sonics on display, and that’s not even getting into all the turntable scratches and cut-up samples throughout the album (most prominent though, in Time To Get Ill).

Then there’s the Boys themselves, showing mad skills on the mics- well, no, not really. We’re a long ways away from any sort of lyrical genius on Licensed To Ill, most songs consisting of shouting, call-and-response, and punk ‘singing’. Hey, it’s what MCA, Mike D, and King Ad-Rock had a prior background in, Rubin convincing them to also adopt raps into their arsenal. Though their punch lines are often witty (I always get a kick out of Ad-Rock’s lyrics in Girls), it’s still juvenile humour, a long ways away from the maturity found in their following albums.

For that reason, I can’t take Licensed To Ill seriously, but then neither did the Beastie Boys. Perhaps that’s how it’s never lost its charm, no matter how old I’ve grown.

Public Enemy - Fear Of A Black Planet

Def Jam Recordings: 1990

This should have been the first Public Enemy album I reviewed when all their CDs I ordered showed up, but alphabetical stipulation forbade. Its significance couldn’t be overlooked though, even when focusing on Apocalypse 91 - how many times did I namedrop Fear Of A Black Planet on that one? And it must be a damn important album if the National Recording Registry added it to the Library Of Congress. Woo, government approval from a group that rallied against the government all the time. How the world can change in fifteen years (wait, there’s still a Bush as President...?).

The reason for all this heaped praise is Public Enemy set out to do nothing less than make the definitive concept album with Fear Of A Black Planet. Mighty bold of them to do so within a genre of music that was still relatively new to the populace, almost exclusively focused on party jams and clever world play. Who did Public Enemy think they were in going where no one in hip-hop had gone before? Oh yeah, the same guys that had made the critical and commercial success of It Takes A Nation Of Millions, etc.. Well, that settles that. Go for it, boyeee! (dammit, Flav...)

Since Fear Of A Black Planet is now talked about in reverential terms, Public Enemy obviously succeeded in their goals. It certainly helped that the group's production crew, The Bomb Squad, had all the swagger in the world, confident their 'wall of noise' sample collages could see no bounds. And holy shit, are these tracks ever dense with samples. Good luck IDing even a fraction of them without a cheat sheet (apparently the opening minute-long 'skit' holds some fifty samples alone). Getting a ton of (uncleared!) samples ain't nothing if you can't make awesome music out of it though, but The Bomb Squad were masters of their trade by this point, each track or interlude never losing the plot with overindulgent wankery. Fear Of A Black Planet's beats may not be as immediate as other Public Enemy LPs, but they hold your attention nonetheless, your brain picking everything apart to hear all the little details. This is definitely an album you'll come back to time after time to discover some new morsel missed on a prior playthough.

Now for the nitpick: not enough Chuck D. Ridiculously, it’s almost five tracks before we get some serious verbal attacks from the PE frontman (second track Brothers Gonna Work It Out does have some spit’n’fire for the Black community, but barely to the level of his best work), and it feels like he only shows up here and there. I get that this album’s practically The Bomb Squad’s show, and that a musical concept album such as this requires some sacrifices on the lyrical front (not much, mind, but it is noticeable), yet the lack of Mr. Ridenhour (!!) firing lyrical shots all throughout does leave me wanting. Then again, what does a Canadian cracker like I know?

Public Enemy - Apocalypse 91 ...The Enemy Strikes Black

Def Jam Recordings: 1991

Here’s a controversial thought: as awesome as The Bomb Squad were in producing Public Enemy’s first few albums, there were growing too esoteric for the hip-hop community. Cool, you guys can cram a whole bunch of sounds and samples into your tracks, creating works of music like dense collages, but dammit, the rest of Public Enemy’s getting lost in the shuffle in doing so. Just as well, then, that they’d step back from the studio following the copyright clampdown on sampling, donning an executive producer’s role for this here Apocalypse 91 album. If they can’t play with all the toys, then they ain’t gonna play with them at all …well, much anyway.

Replacing them for main beatsmith duties are Imperial Grand Ministers Of Funk. And straight up, the funk be back up in this trunk, booyeee! Oh, damn, I’ve been hearing too much Flavor Flav lately. Sorry about that. Seriously though, it’s great to hear beats that come fast and hard, but with plenty of bounce in them. Since raiding tons of samples to keep your attention just wasn’t allowed anymore, the music’s gotten simpler for the most part, relying on infectious funk and soul loops complementing rhythms that bang. Here’s another controversial thought: I like the production on Apocalypse 91 more than the lauded Fear Of A Black Planet and It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back. Not to take anything away from The Bomb Squad, and their touch still remains throughout this album, but if I’m reaching for a Public Enemy LP that’ll hit me with beats my EDM-tastes lean towards, this is the one that makes the cut for sure.

It also helps that Chuck D, Terminator X, and even Flavor Flav are hitting their respective peaks too. If Fear Of A Black Planet had them stepping back as The Bomb Squad took the spotlight, the three main stage players don’t hold anything back on Apocalypse 91. Chuck D’s as fiery as he’s ever been, going after targets ranging from political, corporate, and even criminal. Public Enemy’s often been called ‘militant’, their music the sort of rhetoric that’ll rouse the rabble, but Chuck D’s more focused in his attacks this time out, giving specific targets and even solutions when he can (quit all that boozing in 1 Million Bottlebags). And damn, here’s a third controversial thought: Flavor Flav’s gotten good on the mic. When did he find the time for that? He’s always been obligated one or two cuts to himself on Public Enemy’s albums, and they were guaranteed the weakest tracks. He still isn’t anywhere near Chuck D’s level, but I Don’t Wanna Be Called Yo Niga and A Letter To The New York Post are pretty strong showings from the comedy sidekick.

Apocalypse 91 may not receive the same level of plaudits as their prior albums, but it easily ranks high among hip-hop albums from an era filled with classics. This is Public Enemy with nothing left to prove and firing on all cylinders.

Public Enemy - It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back

Def Jam Recordings: 1988/2000

That this is one of the most essential hip-hop LPs to hear out there, you cannot deny. The only Public Enemy album you should own, however, that's just a ludicrous statement. Really, there's no such album, as everything they released during that Golden Age of hip-hop is something you should own. It'd be like trying to narrow Kraftwerk's peak era to just one, when everyone knows all their material from Autobahn through Computer Age is worth a hear-listen. Same can be said about Public Enemy, their primo albums being It Takes Of Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back through Apocalypse '91. Wait, I'm missing most of those. To the Amazon!

Okay, that's sorted. While I wait for them to show up, let's get into Public Enemy's sophomore effort. The group had already made quite an impact with their debut Yo! Bum Rush The Show, offering a form of rap that was far more aggressive than what most folks were accustomed to from that scene. Of course, compared to the hyper-violence that would emerge with gangsta rap, Public Enemy’s early work can sound tame, and it would take something more than rock elements (hello, Rick Rubin) to stand out from the growing pack of hip-hop all-stars.

Something must have lit a fire under all the Enemy’s asses, because It Take A Nation improves upon everything that’d come before, and quite literally took the rap game to a whole new level. Chuck D’s lyrics turned more incendiary, charged with fiery words directed at the problems black communities suffered from in the ‘80s and taking to task those who were accountable for them (mostly white-ruling governments). He still finds the time for party lyrics too, but small wonder the political stuff got everyone taking notice, whether you agreed with his assessments or outright feared them (oh, if they only knew what was to come...).

Such lyricism got It Takes a Nation tons of attention back then, but where it’s come to be regarded as a proper classic is in the production. This is where The Bomb Squad came into their own, no longer relying on standard drum kits but raiding whatever funk and soul samples they got their hands on. And they got their hands on a lot, creating dense tracks that were any trainspotter’s wet dream come true, ushering in a sampling arms race that lasted for the next few years after. Again, this album doesn’t sound quite so impressive compared to what followed, but considering most turn to It Takes A Nation as their point of inspiration, its seminal status is well earned. Besides, with all the samples pilfered from this album, whole sections of hip-hop, breaks, and loads more beat-heavy genres owe it a debt of gratitude for setting the standard.

Specific tunes, then? Bring The Noise, Don’t Believe The Hype, Rebel Without A Pause, Night Of The Living Baseheads... Damn, nearly everything off here! Except Cold Lampin’ With Flavor. Sorry, Flav, you’re only good as a hype man.

Ghostface Killah - Fishscale

Def Jam Recordings: 2006

For the Wu-Tang Clan, the first half-decade of our current millennium was spent spinning wheels. Often, whatever momentum they’d create for themselves was followed with mediocre duds or nothing at all. Aside from Ghostface Killah, that is. He opened the ‘00s with the underground classic Supreme Clientele (considered so because the album got hardly any press at the time), and though his subsequent material never reached that lofty peak again, he remained consistent as the decade wore on.

Fishscale came out at about the time most had written the Clan off and Ghost was thought as a strong solo artist in no need of his posse anymore. All the more surprising, and welcome even, that Raekwon shows up on a number of the cuts, not to mention a proper Wu joint with 9 Milli Bros. Though the two had guest-versed repeatedly on each other’s albums, it was Rae’s Only Built For Cuban Linx that’d been regarded as the definitive Rae-Ghost showcase. Perhaps in a bid to recapture the fire that inspired that one (not to mention no one knew whether there’d ever be another Cuban Linx at this point), at least a quarter of Fishscale deals with crime stories and cocaine usage. Unlike so much other gangster rap, it’s never glamorized, yet nor is it ever villainized either. Best example of this is the second cut Kilo, where over a simple funk-beat supported by sounds of snorting and metal-on-porcelain, Ghost and Rae tell us the in-and-out of dealing on the street as it is, and nothing more.

In going back to those roots, Ghost seems inspired to revisit other things that worked on prior albums. The longtime ‘70s soul sampling is in full effect of course, mostly used in tracks like The Champ and Be Easy where Mr. Coles goes bravado on us. Elsewhere, reflective moments of childhood get another nod with Whip You Down With A Strap, where ol’ Dennis ponders whether he deserved some of the beatings his momma gave him. He also finds time for extraneous topics like going to the barber shop (in the short tune Barbershop, which has a ridiculously hard kick for such a silly tune). And the ladies? Whether telling tales of cocaine addicts (Big Girl) or how he’ll give them the chance to change for the better in Momma, Ghost keeps things smooth. Guess he realized if you’re gonna make an album that’ll appease all parties, the women need their tunes too.

When Fishscale came out, it was hailed as an instant classic under the Wu banner, and few thought it could be topped. While I agree it ranks among Ghostface’s top albums, something funny happened to the Clan after this one: they got good again. Not brilliant, mind, but many of their releases are on par with Fishscale. Ironically, Ghost’s album lost its ‘classic’ status as a result, and now is simply considered a “Top 10 ‘00 Wu Release”. Still not a bad distinction.