No matter how big of a rut hip-hop is in, a song about SpongeBob driving a Bentley coupe underwater will always shake things up. Leave it to Ghostface Killah, rap music's reigning absurd genius, to drop the year's most engaging album almost 15 years into his legendary career.
On Fishscale, Ghostface opens the lyrical floodgates more than he has on any album since Supreme Clientele's nonsensical rush of this rap is like ziti\ rhymes. This time, an unending rush of stories, mishaps, scenes, boasts and warnings pour out of Ghost's conscience, offering his audience the most rewarding and rich listening experience since Wu-Tang Clan's heyday.
The album, whose title refers to the purest form of uncut cocaine, is intended to reassert Ghost's claim as the king of drug-rap, a subgenre that has exploded recently with the likes of Young Jeezy, T.I. and The Clipse. These and others have carried on the formula perfected by Ghostface and Raekwon on Rae's classic debut Only Built 4 Cuban Linx.
Whereas younger, lesser MCs boast with far-fetched myths of street millionaires and never-ending dope-dealing metaphors, Ghostface's surrealistic and insanely detailed storytelling is coupled with a sense of humility and emotion that is unheard of in hip-hop. Fishscale is a world no rapper has ever been ballsy enough to show his audience.
One thing that separates the album from the rest of the pack is the production, which is decidedly anti-pop—surprising for an album released by Jay-Z's Def Jam label. Underground and avant-garde stalwarts such as Pete Rock, MF Doom and the late J Dilla carry much of the load, but newcomers Crack Val and Moss turn in some of the freshest sounds, like the latter's coked-out funk on ""Kilos."" It is over these soulful and sometimes curious backdrops that Ghost splatters his absurd visions.
No matter which pseudonym Dennis Coles goes by—Ghostface Killah, Tony Starks, Ironman—his persona has been consistently grounded in a flamboyant, off-the-wall surrealism that usually flies right over the head of unsuspecting listeners. With his fifth album Fishscale, Ghostface continues his quest to harness the paradox of his otherworldly wordplay and gutter-level street tales, a trick he performs as efficiently here as ever before in his long career.
At some points, Ghost is the king of rap, snatching the throne back from non-believers with whimsical word-play and dexterous delivery. The Just Blaze produced ""The Champ"" uses a ""Rocky"" sample to bolster some of the most acute wit Ghost has employed in years to literally force his way past all those other fake rappers (""My arts is crafty darts / Why ya'll stuck off ‘Laffy Taffy'?""). Sometimes he is a struggling, even clumsy drug dealer or user, infusing his back alley tales with insanely detailed insight. For example, Ghost lets us know that an old lady he passes on his way up an apartment staircase shot her brother-in-law at her boss' wedding.
On tracks like ""Big Girl"" and ""Momma,"" he's a father figure for the black women who never had one, a guardian angel. And on the nostalgic ""Whip You with a Strap,"" Ghost reminisces about the good old days when kids were scared of their momma's belt. And then there's ""Underwater,"" which finds Ghost following a mermaid with a Halle Berry-haircut and SpongeBob to a submerged mosque. That's just Ghost being Ghost.
Throughout Fishscale, Ghostface gives us the whole spectrum of his rap psyche through a neverending rush of bizarre lyricism, insanely perceptive storytelling and some of the most heartfelt emotion heard in hip-hop in a long time.
\
