A Look Back At: Ghostface Killah - Sour Soul

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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Sex, Drugs and Hip-Hop: Side A of Danny Brown’s XXX Revisited

XXX is often referred to as an album of two-halves: the wild, nasally, comic Side A (the first twelve tracks), and the introspective, melancholic Side B (track thirteen onwards). It’s an insight that seems fair at a first glance, Brown’s braggadocio raps about his lyrics, pussy-eating skills and partying lifestyle are not particularly subtle or intimate in their message or delivery, instead the reader is met with an abrasive, unapologetic style where Brown raps freely about whatever he wants. This argument is not about to become a suggestion that all of Side A is a subtle message into Brown’s psyche, he quite clearly lays it bare in Side B, for to do so would deny the brilliance of some of his lines that don’t quite meet the “conscious” rap aesthetic. Take these, for instance:

                       

                        Every time I indent, you can see the intent

                        Leave your mind bent, hanging on the every sentence

                        Have no apprentice, style uninherited                  

                        Laughing at you peasants cause my penmanship is excellence

This is braggadocio rap at its finest, weaving internal rhymes and brilliant imagery on the physicality of his words – a paradoxical idea that is suggestive of the vivid power Brown’s words possess. The line before Brown compares himself to Shakespeare, and whilst not exactly subtle stuff, it’s certainly effective. Alternatively, Side A features lines like, “Ate that bitch pussy ‘til she squirted like a dolphin.” The metaphor speaks for itself, and what it says is down right hilarious.

Returning to the central argument, however, is the desire to suggest that Side A is not so clearly one sided in its content, but is in fact masterfully balanced between Brown’s comic, over-the-top style and his introspective, emotional style, flicking between the two completely naturally. In the opening track, XXX, Brown embodies this sentiment within the first ten lines:

                       

                        I’m in ya bitch mouth but she fantasizing

                        Staring at the skinny’s said it’s so tantalizing

                        Dog I’m strategizing, plotting on throne

                        The masta of the ace sitting on chrome

                        Dark nights tryna sleep stomach on fire

                        Delusional from hunger so I couldn’t get tired

From rapping about getting head, to his plan to be the best in the world, to the difficulties he’s faced in getting to this in his career; it’s a simple six lines, but the breadth of themes never feels out of place. Brown is able to juggle this mass of contrasting images, not just within an entire album, but within six lines – it’s exquisitely intricate lyricism, but perhaps more difficult to appreciate. It’s largely a selection of three rhyming couplets and some internal rhymes, with the fourth line referencing Masta Ace’s Sitting on Chrome cleverly, twisting the title and artist name to his own purposes. Outside of this there are no complex metaphors, subtle rhyming techniques or entendre, instead it’s an example of carefully structured lines. To go from the line about blowjobs to his struggles wouldn’t work, nor would it work in the reverse, or really any other way of restructuring these lines. The natural sense of progression that occurs allows an image of Brown’s personality to unfold, capturing the conflicting forces in his life without jarring the listener.

Returning to ‘Pac Blood’, these two lines stand out as an another example of Brown’s balancing act: “Make a grown man cry with strength of the words”, and “Tongue bring torture to men, women and children”. The lines come in separate verses, but are tied together by the commonality of Brown’s ability to affect the listener with his lyrics. The former expressing his ability to emotionally affect the clichéd image of tough men in their intimate, sad honesty – something like this from the final track 30, “And now a nigga thirty so y’all don’t think that hurt me/That the last ten years I been so fucking stressed”. The latter is about the brutally obscene aspect of his raps, the supposed offensive nature of them enough to cause people physical pain – “Love a feminist bitch, oh, it get my dick hard/So no apologies for all the misogyny/I just want your company to come and watch some porn with me” These lyrics from ’Outer Space’ offering a cruelly funny juxtaposition in his use of “feminist bitch”, which whilst certainly designed to cause offense, reinforce the physical impact of his lyrics. In these two lines from ‘Pac Blood’ Brown’s self-referential style is both braggadocio and introspective, taking pride in his ability to offend and move the listener. His lines become a meta-commentary on the recurring moments of the album, laid out in Side A where Side B lacks the thematic room to do so.

As mentioned some songs on Side A aren’t about a balancing act, they simply exist for one purpose; ‘I Will’ is Brown’s bordering-on-the-grotesque ode to pussy eating, line after line detailing precisely every element of his process [my facetiousness is obvious here]. ‘Bruiser Brigade’ is a grime-influenced hype track, a celebration of machismo, alcohol and excess that isn’t trying to do anything other than be enjoyed. In fact the majority of the tracks of Side A might seem imbalanced, against the grain of what I am arguing for, without any sense of the balance that the album offers as a whole. Brown’s first three tracks are clearly balanced as a whole, swinging back and forth between the two styles already laid out, but other tracks leave the balancing act to just one or two lines, details that aren’t necessarily noticeable until multiple re-listens. Detroit 187 is noticeable for its lines about Brown’s “dick so big left stretch marks on her jaw”, but his socio-political side slips through about the state of Detroit in the late 20^th-early 21^st century. “Murders all the time is all I see” and ‘I’m so institutionalized/ I wake up 6 a.m. because I think it’s chow time”. These two lines are the best examples from the track, delivered in a vehemently matter of fact manner that they don’t really register on an initial listen. What they reveal is Brown’s real life situation, growing up in an environment where murder has become dehumanised due to its prominence, as well as the state of the institutionalized prison system in America where young black men are incarcerated for so long that they become indoctrinated into the prison lifestyle. Brown returns to this socio-political discussion more explicitly later in tracks such as ‘Fields’ and ‘Scrap or Die’, but like much of the album the foundation for Side B is offered, if subtly, in Side A.

Side A is littered with examples where the oft-cited album of two-halves is not so clearly black and white. Side B often receives the majority of the plaudits for its painfully intimate descriptions of drug addiction, social crises and mental health issues, the immediate connection to the listener far easier to grasp. What results from this is the sense that Side A is quite often forgotten, and whilst I think the consistent strength of Side B is perhaps a factor in this, so is the desire to buy into the cut-throat belief that this is only an album of two halves. Side A has far more layers than that and deserves to be treated with the reverence and respect that this offers, embodying the brilliant balancing act Brown pulls off in the album as a whole. In the words of Andre 3000, Side A has something to say, and that’s all I got to say.

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