When the first wave of Wu-Tang solo albums flowered, Ghostface Killah and his tag-team partner Raekwon didn't seem poised to transcend the rest of the Clan: Rza was the architect, almost guaranteed to strike ghetto gold with a bangin' solo joint. Gza, as you know, was The Genius and sported a TOUGH debut album. Method Man was the showman with the leg-spreading smile and the catchiest tracks/snappiest guest artists. Ol' Dirty Bastard nearly blew his hands off tinkering with the explosive, rusty-screwdriver raps of his solo debut, too crazy to contain and too savant and secretly smart to take himself too seriously.
But from the first "shame on you," the pair cut their craft from a different cloth. They always chose the well-worn vice of vocabulary and storytelling over grandstanding; while Clan members like Ol' Dirty were blessed with obvious brilliance, in retrospect it seems Ghost and 'Kwon had the vision to realize slow and steady wins the race in the rap game, and their solo albums proved neither was leaving anything to chance. Only Built for Cuban Linx, while more immediately impressive and now-legendary, in retrospect served as the understated Raekwon's premature peak. Ghostface's Ironman, on the other hand, came as a complete shock and suffered from plenty of goofs. Its far-reaching jumps in tempo, subject matter, and mood took the most risks and bared the most flaws, the one constant being his unmistakable heart. 'Face broke down and cried and stole kisses on the sly, foreshadowing the complicated, contradictory character he was to play in the coming years.
Fishscale is a representation of Ghostface's tireless work ethic and staying power – he remains tantamount to the power of hip-hop while his counterparts in the Wu affix their gazes elsewhere, peter out with substandard material, or worse, die tragically. His trademarks are still branded on his every jam: decoding his dialect is still half the fun; the production and skittering raps hovering overtop still form one of hip-hop's sturdiest two-tones; he still reveals more of himself than the average "leggo my ego" showboat, and in doing so, unfurls many of the contradictions rap has always been chided for. He'll express (feign?) compassion for the ladies who make his life a'ight, but often in the very next skit he'll give a random lady directions to the "hershey highway" like a junior high kid testing his substitute teacher.
Clashing elements have always fought it out in Ghostface's narratives. His slang-heavy streams of violent verses come covered in glue and dipped in broken glass, but he tempers these tantrums with "there's far too many of you now" observations that muddle his message. Similarly, his heightened worldview gets undercut by an endless flow of drug-deal-gone-bad heist stories 'n' skits.
So, who is the REAL Tony Starks? Seeing that the classic archetype of entertainers providing some sort of moral barometer has been deader than dead for a long time, he may just be the hip-hop mogul of the future, far from larger-than-life and brimming with duality. Therefore, foregoing all the expectations you'd place upon a Spaghetti Western hero or even an average Joe – not normally a problem for rap aficionados – should be a given when examining Ghostface Killah's celebrated catalog, a rich, bipolar compendium of heavily researched wordplay and tight-snouted delivery.
In addition to furthering his Jekyll and Hyde mannerisms, many pulse points of the Killah's earlier work are pumped into life and gutted for sample placement on Fishscale's cutting board. 'Face's still a Soul Man, as evidenced by the brief, bell-bottomed bass of "Barbershop" and the Sunday-afternoon slow-bounce of "Big Girl," and he remains obsessed with "crushin' the blow into flakes," lacing drug references into his yarns like a diabolical dealer capping his weeds with embalming fluid.
One unfortunate change he's made is gradually phasing Rza out of his production stable. After only a few nods on The Pretty Toney Album, The Rzarector is relegated to knob-twiddling on one amazing Fishscale track (complete with posthumous ODB guest), and it shows. Despite his woeful Birth of a Prince album and a tendency to fall victim to his signature habits – sampled voices fast-forwarded and repeated ad nauseum, etc. – over the years, Rza remains a valuable tool, and 'Scale suffers for his absence. The so-so beat choices and sample syncopation of "Kilo," "Momma," "Whip You With a Strap," and "Back Like That," when juxtaposed with the patented intensity and hot-stove urgency of past flourishes, just doesn't measure up. What's worse, many of Fishscale's tracks sound like compositions Rza would've junked years ago.
A sizeable glut of spectacular clippings counteract the frequently blasé beats, however. Predictably, Notorious B.I.G. guest track "Three Bricks" stands out from the clutter like a giraffe mingling with a flock of yaks, the E-40/B Legit punch of Ghostface and Raekwon bringing back old memories, topped only by B.I.G.'s preceding joust of – what else? – drug-related imagery. Meanwhile, "R.A.G.U." finds Ghost and 'Kwon again swapping prose like Topps trading cards while a delicious vinyl snippet squeaks in the deep, "Be Easy" adds a welcome fleck of funk, and "Clipse of Doom" shakes up the entire apparatus on the heels of a less-is-more, dirge-y guitar soundscape. Solidifying the hit-or-miss marksmanship of Fishscale, "Jellyfish" is another blessing that stands in night-and-day contrast to the aforementioned flops, flipping the script with verse from the charismatic Cappadonna and an exquisite organ line that orbits the jam like a distant moon. The scant, sweet, flute-looped "Underwater" is another reverse-doppelganger to duds like "Columbus Exchange," all mystery and boggy darkness undulating like a sharp ripple on a steady pond.
You could never accuse Ghostface of living off his legend, as he's among the busiest hip-hoppers around, but those who flip over Fishscale without trolling for its inadequacies are obviously caught up in the glee of hearing a quality Wu album after a hiatus Toney Starks couldn't quite justify. Fishscale is a confusing journey: far from a disappointment, it breathes new life into the legacy of Ghostface without blowing too hard, and for that we should be thankful. But to champion his latest as equal or, god forbid, superior to past albums in any way, shape, or form is laughable, as years-removed and repeated listens will bear out. Like so many middling pieces of art, Fishscale, without a doubt, has the power to slake the thirst of those already in the fold; newcomers are encouraged to look elsewhere.
1. Return Of Clyde Smith
2. Shakey Dog
3. Kilo
4. Champ, The
5. Major Operation
6. 9 Milli Bros.
7. Beauty Jackson
8. Heart Street Directions
9. Columbus Exchange/Crack Spot
10. R.A.G.U
11. Bad Mouth Kid
12. Whip You Down With A Strap
13. Back Like That
14. Be Easy
15. Clispe Of Doom
16. Jellyfish
17. Dogs Of War
18. Barbershop
19. Ms. Sweetwater
20. Big Girl
21. Underwater
22. The Ironman Takeover
23. Momma
24. Three Bricks
More about: Ghostface Killah
