As a solo artist Ghostface has two certified classics in Ironman and Supreme Clientele, and fans will hotly debate Fishscale. On the most electrifying track on Fishscale, ‘The Champ’, the intro skit taunts Starks, “He’s hungry. You ain’t been hungry since Supreme Clientele.” What followed was 4 minutes of boasts, knowledge and punchlines for the strongest lyrical performance from Starks since Supreme Clientele. He channeled the stream-of-consciousness playful mess that made Supreme Clientele so brilliant – “Who want to battle the Don?/I'm James Bond in the Octagon with two razors/Bet cha'all didn't know I had a fake arm/I lost it” – only a prime Ghostface Killah can get away with bars that weird and still make them sound so good.
On Sour Soul, this wild Ghostface, the “bulldozer with a wrecking ball attached” that helped revive both the Wu Tang in 2000 and his own solo career in 2005, was nowhere to be seen. Thus what makes Sour Soul so deserving of another look, of a reappraisal, is that it was Ghostface’s first album in a career defined by his ability to shred the mic to pieces, where he was almost gentle in his delivery. It’s a frankly unique rough diamond in a career full of jewels. It doesn’t rely on his remarkable storytelling ability, it doesn’t have the mic destroying flow, the modernist stream of consciousness ideas. It’s a muted album with muted production to match.
Even the album cover is muted. It’s a far cry from the posturing of Ironman, Bulletproof Wallets and Fishscale, the focus of Supreme Clientele, or the pop-culture inspirations that grace Wu-Massacre and Twelve Reasons To Die. Ghost’s face is obscured by the American flag. It falls atop his head like the sweaty towel of a boxer after a twelve round fight. His eyes gaze coldly at something unknown beyond the frame. The black and white palette helps to shroud the album cover in mystery. The image looks more appropriate for a polemical comeback album by Chuck D, Mos Def or Ice Cube. It does not look like the album cover for one of the greatest gangster rapper’s of all time.
The intro track ‘Mono’ glides into play. It’s a jazzy 58 second sleep tone setter, with sparse drums and a soothing bass line. This is a far cry from the legendary opening skit of Ironman.
“I got a message for Smoky?”
“What is it?”
“You ain’t Smoky it ain’t yo motherfucking message”
“Motherfucker I said gimme the message”
The album doesn’t explode into life like Ghost’s previous efforts. This does not have the boundless energy that made Supreme Clientele so memorable. The titular track ‘Sour Soul’, the track that Mono fades into, opens with these lines: “Yo, cleanse me, clean me of my sour soul”. It’s the imagery of rebirth, Ghost yearns for a spiritual cleansing. Yet it’s just that: a yearning. It does not yield any sweet fruits for Ghostface. The content of the song that follows is classical Ghost, but with this maturer delivery – his flow is reminiscent of contemporaries Ka and Roc Marciano – New York is coming full circle, the rebirth is taking place.
Every time the album seems like it’s about to burst into a new gear, BadBadNotGood put on the breaks. They indulge in interludes like “Stark’s Reality”. Tony will spit a vicious verse or two and then take a breather. Ghost is indulging himself. On the title track Ghost ends the song stating: “Yeah, I got my swagger back and all that”. In previous albums Ghost’s swagger came from his uncanny eye for storytelling details – the ‘king tut’ piece from motherless child – or from his relentless approach to rhyming. He was an elite craftsman and he wanted to show it. On Sour Soul, for the first time in his career, Ghost is happy to step back and let the band take centre stage – it’s a whole new swagger.
The cast of supporting characters (DOOM, Danny Brown, Tree, Elzhi) make up a quartet of (relatively) elder rap statesman. This isn’t an album for the young rapper, it’s for the refined hip hop head. There’s a reluctancy in Ghost’s tone when discussing ‘pimping’, something he used to do with a searing misogynistic passion, and there are nuggets of political knowledge buried in every song. Tree’s verse on Street Knowledge is emblematic of the very title – detailing snippets of his life growing up in Chicago. On Ray Gun, another DOOMSTARKS collaboration to pluck at the heartstrings, Ghost describes, “Me and DOOM headed down to the range”. I’m sure he’s not describing the golf club, but in light of 50 Cent’s comments on 4:44 one has to wonder whether Ghost was pre-empting “Dad Rap”?
The tone that BBNG brings throughout the album in their gentle bass lines, the scattering of a brush on the cymbals and the subtle piano notes conjures an image of a late night jazz club performance. Ghost the forgotten MC, once a club legend, playing to a room that dwindles as the night runs on. Yet, there’s still some magic to be found in there. Those that stick around with the weary warrior will be rewarded for their efforts. They will be fed eternal wisdom; sweet food for the Sour Soul.
Food:
I used to rob and steal, now I make food for thought
Fresh like the air you snort
I drop jewels, little nuggets of wisdom
Seeds that keep growing
Paying my debts to society, so no more owing
Now it's showing and proving, keep the body moving
Exercising the mind is scientifically proven
To increase your life line, strengthen your heart
Eat fish, that brain food will get you smart
Yoga, deep medicational tactics
You no good then just practice, cause practise makes perfect
Stop burying your lies and bring the truth to the surface
Money is the root to all evil, that cash rule
Will have you out there looking like a damn fool
That's the devil's bait, the all mighty dollartry
Will have your mind fooled by technology
Make the right choice, no need for an apology
Them light as the sun, the sun's the father
The father is the man on Earth, we try harder
To teach one, preach one
Just acknowledge the wisdom
Can't figure right from wrong, it's a tough decision
My vision is light, some come to me when yours black out
Follow the footprints as I lay the tracks out
He's a righteous God, I want the best for mankind
Navigate through this war without blowing a landmine
My light shines from the east my brother
Verbally I spit, I'm a beast my brother
March through the blackness, search for the ray of lights
Don't walk bare footed through the grass
Cause that's where the snake strikes
Protect ya neck, evil lurks in the shadows
Darkness is best where the Devil wins battles
The weak fall victim, the strong sound diligent
Guerilla, we gullible but manage to stay militant
Super stars, our ego is so top billin' it
Follow me son and I'll show you how I'm killin' it
These wolves is vicious, assigned to danger
The changer, I'm 'bout to pull you all through a chamber
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