The new CD by Ghostface Killah The Big Doe Rehab is a prime example of factory-made rap music. While the Wu Tang Clan is not usually considered mainstream because of explicit content that makes its music unplayable on airwaves, the members are definitely not underground.

Those familiar with the Wu will surely recognize the classic Wu Tang style in The Big Doe Rehab, with the looped nostalgic sampling, home-girl vocal riffs, occasional horns or strings, odd clashing, and rim shots. In the ‘90s these sounds were often melded together with a raw and gritty quality. The Big Doe Rehab shines in improved production quality. But, one would expect that after so many years the sound would have evolved to exhibit musical growth and not just improved production. However, it seems that Ghostface Killah (GFK) and his recording team are unwilling to break out of the Wu Tang Clan mold and become innovative and individual.

GFK is also resting on what I would call the “mainstream rap formula” of gangsterism, misogyny and profane language, which brings into question his ability to actually create substantive music. Do we really care that some girl is servicing him in the back of a limo or that he pistol whipped a guy for disrespecting his “Wiz?” Because the “mainstream rap formula” continues to pervade music recorded in this genre, it makes one believe that these musicians believe that their posturing impresses or is necessary for success.

However, despite his shortcomings, the rap ballad is one area in which GFK brings forth some artistry. Although extremely violent and vulgar, his songs paint a picture with vivid imagery and sound. For example, Shaky Dog is a story of murder, retaliation, and gang war, which crescendos to its end in a flurry of gun fire. The song is immediately followed by !, 35 seconds of chaotic Latin dance rhythms as the shoot -out concludes in a police chase.

Slow down seems to rise as GFK describes his life of luxury, and then falls at the chorus where a classic sounding voice laments that “This life will fade away so I appreciate/each moment of each day/life’s quick, don’t flip, move /slow your wrestlin’.” Although slightly disjointed – perhaps intentionally so – the chorus and verses don’t quite transition smoothly one into the other. This may have been GFK trying his hand at artistic arrangement – but the effort is lackluster and does not quite work.

The album ends strong with the only song that stood out as a possible single Clothes Off! This song is reminiscent of classic hip hop and all the markings of a club banger with playful and danceable rhythms. Those who enjoy mainstream music and can endure the vulgarity of mainstream rap will likely find this release enjoyable. Long-term fans of GFK will no doubt find this LP consistent with his previous releases, and may even give high-fives to GFK as they opine about his growth as an artist. Outside of this, others will be disappointed, and even disgusted, by his adherence to formulaic practices that perpetuate the thuggish-Black-male stereotype. All-in-all, I was not impressed with Ghostface Killah’s The Big Doe Rehab.

© Kimberlee Morrison 2007 for Listen In. Some rights reserved.

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