Ghostface The Pretty Toney Album

Terms like 'long-awaited' and 'highly anticipated' are tossed around the hip hop marketing game far too often, but in the case of Staten Island superstar Ghostface Killah the aforementioned terms are not only relevant, but at this point expected; for it's the unexpected that we've become accustomed to when mentioning Wu Tang Clan wordsmith Tony Starks. A stellar track record, from the Tony Montana-influenced debut Ironman to the freestyle genius of Supreme Clientele, Ghost continues to drop proverbial 'next-level' shit, and serving that space-age (sometimes nonsensical) vernacular to the spoon-fed masses is akin to "feeding a T-bone steak to a baby," GFK has been repeatedly quoted.

At this point Ghost could loop Captain Kangaroo and birth a retarded street classic. However, The Pretty Toney Album, his first official Def Jam release, certainly will not garner the unanimous verdict from backpackers and street corner B-boys who forever covet Supreme Clientele as the pinnacle of Wu Tang Incorporated. Mixtape kings like Kay Slay and J-Love have dropped volumes of rare, remixed and unreleased Starks to whet appetites, and Pretty Toney could have benefited from incorporating more of those unpolished gems here; and that's certainly not to say the album gleams with a few street jewels. Biscuits opens the album, with number one sidekick Trife keeping pace. Beat the Clock displays Ironman filling up exactly 2:37 minutes of fervent freestyle trash talk. The 60-second Kunta Fly Shit sounds like a rediscovered verse from the nearly delirious flow on I Can't Go to Sleep from The W. And that trademark wailing and wiling out that simply couldn't be tolerated from a less charismatic and enigmatic artist. Metal Lungies provides plenty of bulletproof braggadocio and gunplay with mediocre assistance from Ruff Ryders Sheek and Styles P. In fact the first five tracks are some of the rawest the nine-man conglomerate has ever served.

But this all transpires within the first fifteen minutes of the disc. From there Pretty Toney takes a few ugly turns, namely a painful bathtub skit and song (didn't the Wu learn their lesson with the disastrous Black Shampoo from the 1997 opus Wu Tang Forever?) as well as the club-ready single Tush (which sure as hell ain't no Cherchez LaGhost), and the horrendous Ghostface, which sounds like Starks spent a little too much time down in Miami recording this album. It doesn't offer much to his devoted demographic, the kids who revered the RZA's Digital Bullet as quintessential New Yawk hip hop, perhaps the most gangster Gotham release since Illmatic or G.Rap's Wanted: Dead or Alive. If we could only get a hip hop disc with a dozen tracks tops, maybe two 30-second skits and a maximum of two 'guest stars.'

Holla, on the other hand, is an instant classic - yet another term tossed around every facet of entertainment media. But this is the one that concretely declares Ghostface Killah as the most versatile emcee within the Staten Island nine. We can envision Starks onstage, dropping to his knees as he belts out ridiculous, climactic punchlines like "Don't ever say my name again you pussy/Like the angry cripple man don't push me - don't believe the kid listen to me!" collapsing while Theodore Unit members Trife and Superb run out with a fresh terrycloth robe and carry him off ala James Brown. Holla should go down near the top of the Wu-Tang's infinite list of legendary bangers. And what else needs to be said about the RZA-produced first single Run? Police sirens, breathless vocals, street-story auteur Jadakiss announcing "it's Task Force Tuesday," this is the one that's worth the price of the album, as annoying critics would say.

Unfortunately, as Supreme Clientele reestablished the bar not only for the Wu Tang but all street-credible rappers back in 1998, 2004's Pretty Toney could go down as another diluted full-length.

A Wu hardcover biography, handful of solo releases (including Method Man, Old Dirty and Masta Killa), and rumors of a volatile off again/on again breakup has stirred up interest around the bees nest, so to speak. Next up for the Wu are summer releases from Method Man (the club-happy singles already have die-hards scratching their heads) and the low-key, no-frills mastermind Masta Killa, the only member of the family tree without a solo album, who has long sat idle in the RZA's holster. Anyone with an ear to the basement knows that this one could be crucial to re-establishing the almighty street buzz behind a Wu Tang release. Keep your fingers crossed...