In 2004, Method Man released his third studio album, five years after his last LP and six years after his last solo. An eternity in the rap game. In this period, he devoted himself more to the cinematographic activity, appearing occasionally as a guest rapper and participating in the Wu-Tang commanded albums. Production is done by a different beatmaker for each track, including P. Diddy, Mr. Porter, RZA, No ID, Rockwilder, Tony Dofat, Nashiem Myrick and Scott Storch. Guests on the record are Wu-Tang's Raekwon and Ghostface, Wu-affiliates Streetlife and Black Ice, friend Redman and rap stars Missy Elliott, Busta Rhymes, Snoop Dogg and Ludacris.
RZA intro on a scandalous and ridiculous rhythm, made by Yogi: I wanted to make a joke about the Yogi bear, but the moniker chosen by Jeremy Graham refers precisely to the animated character of Hanna & Barbera, which kills my irony. The first cut should be better after an annoying skit, but not: it seems that the Yogi Bear has been doing the rhythm along with Boo-Boo while Ranger Smith is about to shoot them. Behind the keyboards instead is Rick Rock: I can't pinpoint what bothers me most. If I listen carefully, it could be the ringing and piercing sample, terribly annoying. The drum machine doesn't help, syncopated, hopping, cheap, bad. Method Man struggles to make himself understood above this nauseating noise, and Street Life can't work miracles. "Say What" should be the save-album career-launching rap-star top-tier hit-banger that Method Man has been waiting patiently for his entire career: beat by P. Diddy and Tony Dofat, Missy Elliott as guest star.
The guys in production decide that for young people overwhelmed by crunk in this period, a rhythm composed of a ridiculous and tight drum, what I believe could be a snare drum in the background and extravagant samples, could be attractive. This beat gives me trap house vibes, there are random shouts in the intro, then Meth spits something out. His flow is unnecessarily amazing on this stupid, mediocre fuss, then I expect a Missy Elliott rapping verse that doesn't come for four minutes, the girl just recites the hook. Puffy decides that the rhythm is so good that it deserves to be allowed to breathe at the end for almost a minute, it's a choice I don't agree with. Track number four: DJ Scratch makes a bouncy and easygoing boom bap, for some reason the rhythm is cheerful, stupidly cheerful. Busta accelerates with a dope flow at double speed, and Meth runs well too, but the production is poor, in the first single of the album.
Nashiem Myrick and Lee Stone provide the first accessible production of the edition: boom bap with slow, weak and scarce syncopated drum, cheap samples. The musical carpet is relentlessly mediocre and even the MC recites his lyrics with a sluggish, sickly, weak, lazy, energy-less flow, in one of his few solo cuts. There's a nice boom bap on track number six, however, over the slow and energetic, pounding drum machine, Mr. Porter combines a sample so ridiculous and annoying that you think that all the guys behind the keyboards have been playing some kind of joke on Method Man. Until this moment, each rhythm is worse than the other, I don't understand what's going on. There are Meth & Red with Snoop, but why would I want to listen to them over this noise? The piece loses any value it could have had. Redman sounds like the only one who really wants to do something, there's Mr. Porter reciting the hook four times, and Snoop on the autopilot: he has so little desire and strength in his voice that I hardly hear anything he's saying.
After seven songs I understand that this Method Man album also has samples! Wow, I thought not. To prove me wrong is a Wu-Tang Clan cut, with a competent RZA behind the keyboards and a Raekwon in shape on the mic: it opens the sample of Miracles' "Where Are You Going to My Love", it's appropriate, because it takes a miracle to put Method Man's worst LP until now back on its feet. Sounds like a hip-hop beat: boom bap, slow dry drum, rattles, three second music loop of the same song. On one of the few decent soundscapes of the entire record, Raekwon spits confident, hardcore, smooth, better than most before and after, then it closes Method Man, finally dope, with two verses. This joint is just good, nothing excels and none of the three guys here are inspired, if you have listened to any other Wu record you understand it on first listen, but compared to the other tracks, it's a masterful classic. With the arrival of No ID in the track "Tease", the production of the CD seems to have settled down: accessible boom bap, lively drum, decent samples, shot from a Lenny Williams sample. Johnny Blaze spits out something that I think is back next to vicious / ladies bars, on the hook there's room for rnb pop host Chinky. Easy song that points to the clubs.
Ludacris is the guest in "Rodeo": moderately slow, annoying and heavy boom bap made by Boogz, with a cheap drum and a curious sample. Luda & Meth exchange short stanzas with a style similar to back and forth, the last thing I could imagine was Method Man mimicking Ludacris' delivery style. DJ Fafu is the author of one of the laziest beats on the record: it's all light-hearted and lacking in desire here, the drum doesn't hit, it's waving, the sample doesn't play, Meth doesn't even speak. He practically sleeps and incredibly stretches this track, which seems endless. When I got into the mood of the track and I'm about to put the sheets, Kardinal Offishall arrives: he's a Canadian rapper who spits bars with a shouted reggae style, performs in an annoying and blaring way, out of tune with the rest of the cut and trying to wake me up with his light-hearted bars. Thankfully, Meth comes back and has the worst flow ever, I've never listening him this bad: Kardinal comes back two more times, but by the time he arrives, you should be able to fall asleep already. It's not even the worst cut on the record because at least it doesn't bother.
After the first illusory seconds, another embarrassing production arrives: the beat of Jelly Roll is very badly thought of, kind of a cross between the sound of a videogame and a beat discarded by the Dem Franchise Boyz, or something like that. I can't go on with the choice again, so I jump into Genius site to see if I'm missing something; Method Man offers another battle rap, Streetlife is the host of the piece, and his hook is the apotheosis of the stereotype in rap: the boy says "drinking", "henny", "bottles", "haters", "d***", "party", "b****", "n*****" and "chicks" in four bars. Idol. This is the most important contribution of the project, fantastic: sure, "weed/blunt/L" and "shots" are missing, and maybe something else, but the boy is committed, you've to give him credit. Another important contribution: an uncredited girl says "yeah" twice non-consecutive on the hook, it's Shawnna.
Track number twelve is "Never Hold Back": there are children in the intro, then comes the rhythm of E3. I don't know who E3 is, but I know it shouldn't be here: he delivers an outrageous bouncy boom bap, drum machine is almost decent, but the sample is completely annoying in its irritating extravagance. Meth can't go too well here, the icing on the track is an ugly and useless hook from Saukrates: these Canadian feats will pay off in sales, a great commercial insight from the Def Jam executives. A Self Service rhythm follows: my nerves are failing. Now, this guy has woken up and placed one of the most annoying chipmunk soul samples of the year, quoting a 10-year-old prominent yellow philosopher watching a faculty talent show at school: «I didn't think it was physically possible, but this both sucks and blows.» Method Man tries to do something, in one of his rare solo cuts.
Third and last solo song in "Act Right": Rockwilder's bouncy and mediocre boom bap, his beat is bad, but he's better than at least half of the other productions. Dry and rough, bad and slow drum, mediocre sample, decent delivery of Meth that can't save the cut. "Afterparty" is the second and final track who's worth listening to amidst all this shameful junk: cheerful production by Q, accessible, light, youthful, lively drum, sample of strings. STRINGS? But perhaps most surprising are Ghostface Killah & Method Man engaging in a smooth and enjoyable back and forth: their attempt is praised by critics, blessed with an honest and good rhythm. The author under the "Q" signature is Qu'ran Goodman. Song number sixteen is the second produced by Mr. Porter: ugly, annoying and cheap boom bap, with ridiculous drums and samples. Method Man and Streetlife's delivery doesn't stand out in the mud, despite a lengthy attempt at what can be called a half-back n forth.
Now, I'm tired. Exhausted. Sixteen cuts, fourteen were very heavy and exhausting. Almost 55 minutes of listening and the final outro arrives. The brain is suffering, I don't think it can hold another detestable drum. But it might not even be there, it's an outro! Whenever possible, I don't skip skits, you never know what might be there and if a sudden pearl could pop up: in "Ridin' for Outro" the sudden pearl emerges. From nothing. After 88% of this project was one of the baddest of the year, a gem arrives, in the final track, outro, and is made by one of the many guests on the record. And he's not one of the many rap stars summoned by Def Jam to push this record to the Billboard charts, he's a hidden Wu-Tang affiliate. Killa Beez are great. Three months before the release of this project, U-God formed his own group and released an album with them, The Hillside Scramblers. Among the dozen friends who make up the collective, there's also the protagonist of this cut, Black Ice. On a ridiculous production of Yogi, which opens and closes the disc, the MC delivers a single verse in rapping with an inspired almost-spoken style, reciting a socio-conscious lyrics, perhaps the only one of this edition. Unexpected, it's a clear strong point of the record.
The production is made by 18 different individuals in 17 tracks: Yogi Bear, Rich Mae, DJ Scratch, P. Diddy, DJ Scratch, Mr. Porter, RZA, No ID, Rick Rock, Tony Dofat, Rockwilder, Lee Stone, Nashiem Myrick, Boogs, DJ Fafu, Jelly Roll, Self Service, E3, Scott Storch and Qu'ran "Q" Goodman. One track each, Yogi opens and closes the project, co-produced by Rich Mae, Mr. Porter is the only one to have two real tracks, establishing himself as the major producer of the record. Most of the dudes I've mentioned as producers aren't actually producers and from what you can hear on the record, they never seem to have done this for job. Their rhythms are similar and senseless, much closer to the mainstream trends of the period (and therefore to the sound that was emerging from the south) than anything else historically East Coast. There's a bit of a boom bap, but it's ridiculous: horrible and meaningless beats come out, composed of confused and disordered elements, randomly placed to make only noise. This goes beyond not having an ear for rhythms: it's not something you expect from an official Wu-Tang Clan album. I mean maybe yes. Maybe if you inspect Cappadonna's discography you will find something like this: but if you're not self-defeating, that's not something you expect from a Method Man album, which should be one of the best of the group, maybe the best.
Instead, from a musical point of view, this LP is completely unlistenable and is at the same level as the worst records of U-God and Cappadonna. Among the guests, Johnny Blaze doubles the number of Wu-Tang guys to bring to the disc compared to his previous effort, and calls two of them: Raekwon and Ghostface, in two different tracks. Perhaps it's a coincidence, but they're in the only two good pieces of the edition. Streetlife, affiliated with the supergroup, is the biggest guest on the record with two appearances, but his contributions are overshadowed by ridiculous rhythms: it would be interesting to hear his back n forth with Meth on "Crooked Letter I", maybe on an accessible beat. Redman offers one of the best performances on the CD, but he too finds himself on a terrible soundscape. The big rap stars add nothing to the record and the unknown guests do even less, from the obscure Wu-affiliate Black Ice instead, in the finale, comes an excellent excerpt on black-on-black violence. Meth secures three solos out of seventeen, too few to be his LP, and he does pretty badly on all of these tracks, where he seems like he doesn't want to spit something. As often happens, it's Snoop Dogg who provides a summary of what happened on this record: I still don't know what he's saying, he's spitting out vicious, light-hearted bars, it's like he's in the studio bringing the Def Jam check and he was thinking "look how the Def f*cking Jam paid me for this appearance, I can even pretend I'm rapping and say nothing, whateva". Idol, he's right: everyone goes on autopilot and nobody comes up with something truly memorable, it's your generic commercial rap album.
Clifford Smith has never been strong lyrically here, despite an impressive, lively flow. Which isn't here: Meth doesn't seem to be focused and spits bars with a dull, weak, energy-free rapping style. He's completely uninspired, slow and cumbersome, his bars always fall flat: he centers the whole album on girls, bravado and battle rap, the rest of the themes leave a lot to be desired, and delivers his lyrics with the worst flow of his career, without a shadow of a doubt. Rhythms don't help him: from what it can be understood, he's asking for more RZA rhythms – curiously, the best producer on the album: it's something abnormal for him in 2004 – but Def Jam falls back on other bad choices. Qu'ran Goodman, under the name "Q", has made a beat that can be saved, then maybe there's Nashiem Myrick, but already his choice isn't good. Others disappoint enormously.
Distributed by Def Jam, the album was born for the charts, where it goes very strong: first among rap records, second in the pop chart, third in Canada, awarded by all those senseless feats. It also appears in the UK, reaching the top 30. Nevertheless, sales are struggling to keep going: the RIAA certification comes after more than six months, in December of the same year, gold. The rapper cuts the skits, reducing the product to 17 songs for a total of 56 minutes of listening: it's still too long and exhausting. Due to poor production and limp rapping, the record takes on more and more irregular and inconsistent contours, and less and less tolerable moments: it's his most commercial record and is rubbish, absolutely forgettable and to be avoided. Not recommended: if they forced you to listen to it, I put below the rare notable excerpts.
Highlights: "The Turn", "Afterparty", "Ridin' for Outro".
Rating: 3.5/10.
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