If any rapper could release two staggering hip-hop albums in one year, it's Ghostface. But he's not pulling off that feat with More Fish. With March's Fishscale, the Wu's most vital warrior once again restated his relevance with a dense, engrossing LP complemented by an equally stellar live show. Matching Ghost's excitement, Def Jam seemed to throw their full weight behind the project-- with a slick video featuring Ne-Yo, tracks from Just Blaze and J Dilla, and eye-popping photo shoots in countless glossies-- but the hoped-for platinum resurgence was not to be. Fishscale has sold roughly 300,000 copies in the U.S. to date. (His solo debut, 1996's Ironman, remains the MC's lone million-seller.) Tucked away beneath the label's fourth-quarter heavy-hitters, More Fish is, appropriately, a fraction of the event Fishscale was. And while new material from one of the most consistent rappers of all time is always welcome, the new album's stealth release doubles as an admission of Ghost's limited commercial potential. The redundant title alone-- here ya go, More Fish!-- goes lengths to lower expectations.
The new record isn't really Ghost's sixth solo album as much as it's a follow-up to 2004's Theodore Unit disc, 718; the production is solid yet rarely electrifying and the record is packed with guest spots from the rapper's markedly less-gifted clique. It's a glorified mixtape with Ghostface strafing hard to reach his peak game at times, but it obviously pales in comparison to its touted sister album.
As much as I can't help but cringe a little when T-Unit also-rans eat up valuable track time on More Fish, it's difficult to deny the underdog appeal of Ghost's crew. Second in command, Trife Da God, has vastly improved as a lyricist over the years-- as proven here on the twisting drug-lord narrative "Miguel Sanchez"-- though his flat Ghostface Jr. flow still lacks the edgy emotion that defines his mentor's appeal. Trife is passable on posse cuts, but he can't hope to sustain "Grew Up Hard", his solo spotlight. Sun God (Ghost's actual son-- what I'd give to be an ant in the floorboards during family dinners) continues to impress with a blustery delivery that sounds more like a conglomerate of several Wu styles-- a little RZA, a little Inspektah Deck, a little Masta Killa-- than a straight DNA-rip. And on the father-son duet "Street Opera", featuring an excellent Michael Jackson-sampling track from up and comer Fantom of the Beat, the kid totally holds his own.
Veteran Theodore affiliates Cappadonna, Redman, and Sheek Louch all make the most of their brief appearances, with Red reminding everyone that he is indeed alive on "Greedy Bitches", his elastic playfulness intact ("Broke nigga?/ No bitch, you got it wrong," he quips, "I'm still spendin' from Red and Meth sitcom"). C-listers Killa Sin and Shawn Wigs slow More Fish's momentum when they're allowed at the mic, though the Wigs showcase "Pokerface"-- a comically specific No Limit Hold'em tutorial-- suggests the pitiful MC may have a lucrative gambling career in his future.
So basically, all the album's guests are past their peak or have zero chance of releasing a major label rap album of their own, and there's a certain charm to the fact that these anti-star rappers are just rhyming to rhyme. But even with all his ancillary affiliates to distract him, Ghost pulls through with some verses that snap your head around and reiterate his lofty stature. He breaks out the unrelenting diehard guise on "Ghost Is Back", a flip on Eric B. and Rakim's "Juice (Know the Ledge)" that has the rapper free-associating for three minutes nearly uninterrupted. Fluffy anomalies "Good" and "You Know I'm No Good", with Brit belter Amy Winehouse, provide some well-placed levity amidst the album's gutter-soul bleakness, but it's when Ghost delves into the popping synapses of his own mind that we get the best of More Fish.
"Outta Town Shit", which chronicles a Minnesota dice game gone awry with paranoid humor, and "Alex (Stolen Script)" are two bulletproof narratives that'd have woven nicely into Fishscale's series of short stories. Over a scratchy, cheeseball-noir MF Doom track, "Alex" weaves a tall tale about a would-be screenwriter who has a rendezvous with a Hollywood bigwig at P.F. Chang's and talks to Ray Charles about casting Jamie Foxx in Ray-- its imagination levels are off the charts. And it's exactly where we want Ghost to be. While More Fish is far from worthless, it's still a diluted product. And that's the problem with setting the bar so high with Supreme Clientele or Fishscale or "Alex (Stolen Script)"-- it's just that much more obvious when the bar isn't reached.
