8 Diagrams
Motown / Universal
Sounds like: A cloudy night of ass- kicking and heartbreak
Short take: Rap's kung-fu chess masters justify the hype, eventually
Fourteen years since it first "formed like Voltron," and six since it did it last, the Wu-Tang Clan has somehow hauled the pieces together for a swampy comeback worthy of their legacy. And that's lofty praise. Despite a rocky gestation, you can mark it down right now: 8 Diagrams will be remembered as a Wu-Tang classic. RZA's production is slightly less mean-streets than it once was, but even with reverb and symphonic instrumentation, his beats remain sparse and devastating. The rap itself is exceptional Method Man ("Wolves") and Raekwon ("Take it Back") especially have found a second wind in a big way. Don't expect ear candy on first listen, but take it for a couple spins and the reward is there. Kiernan Maletsky
The Fight of My Life
Zomba
Sounds like: Ballsy Christian youth- group music
Short take: The hip-hop generation now has its gospel
Unlike his contemporary Christian music brethren spreading the word through watered-down pop hooks and soft rock schlock, Kirk Franklin the Kanye West- like superstar of the gospel world has crafted a career around capturing the fire and brimstone of the pulpit with the streetwise sounds of modern genres. On The Fight of My Life, Franklin shows off this songwriting prowess. It's especially evident on the James Brown-meets-Prince funk jam "Little Boy," which layers horns and handclaps into an arms-in the-air anthem. Franklin also ventures into sultry sounds with "It Would Take All Day" and hip-hop motifs on "Declaration (This is it!)." If you're not into the gospel, The Fight of My Life won't entice. Funky churchgoers, however, will sway. John Benson
The Big Doe Rehab
Island / Def Jam
Sounds like: Gold-clad, roller- skating gangsters with afros and sneers
Short take: Ghostface at the top of his game
Ghostface Killah's third release in the last two years is decadent, colorful and triumphant and that's only the cover art. The Big Doe Rehab finds our hero addicted to doe (Money? Women? Female deer? Who are we to decide?), aware that he has a problem and maybe even mildly concerned about it (probably not, though). For all the self-awareness and atoms of regret, this is still a Ghostface album, filled with the same bleak short stories and shouted in that same emotive flow. He's mesmerizing, whether it's on enormous rockers ("We Celebrate") or '70s smooth ("Supa GFK"). This is nothing new, really, but why change the formula when it's made you a legend? Make no mistake: Ghostface is that. And it's never been more apparent that he knows it. Kiernan Maletsky
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