How the hell do you cover the Wu-Tang Clan? They form like Voltron, and I'm supposed to piece out this puzzle. Each MC has like three alternate personalities, multiplying the angles of attack. But Iron Flag gives me an approach: it's the most solid Wu album in years. I guess the Clan wanted to slice through rumors that they were falling off, because they holed up at the Wu mansion and punched out twelve solid cuts. First they feint with "In the Hood," for once an intro that's listenable. It's RZA's panoramic sweep from freestyle diss to jump-up anthem, with brass blasting and glocks clicking in the background. Then the segue to "Rules," which opens with Ghostface Killah just like on 36 Chambers. Piano jabs keep a tight rhythm as he belts, "Who the fuck knocked our buildings down/ Who the man behind the World Trade massacres, step up now!"
Ghost gets his in, but of course Method Man gets more, taunting, "Who y'all kiddin'? Tryin' to act like my shoe fittin'/ Confused with your head up your ass like who's shittin'?" Still, it's weird to hear him up in the chorus asking, "How the fuck did we get so cool, man?" We know it, Meth, you don't gotta say it. But it's obvious the Wu wanted the sharpest tongues in the front because he's all over Iron Flag, as are Ghost, Raekwon and a surprisingly on-point Inspecta Deck. On the opposite, Ol' Dirty Bastard's conspicuously absent, doing time for crack possession and fleeing probation. If anything, the Clan's more cohesive without the presence of that chaotic God. They're all in together now on "Uzi (Pinky Ring)," the prototype single where every head gets a verse.
The RZA's clearly on to some old-school flavor, and it's a lovely thing because it makes each song perfect for cruising. There's horn samples lacing most tracks, bringing an upbeat, playful vibe-- despite the dirges, Rakeem knows how to have a good time. "Chrome Wheels" drops these nasty mechanical squiggles that combine and interlock with bumping bass. I thought I'd dread the day that divas came to the Wu, but Madame D begs, "Bang us in your cars, bang us in your Jeeps, bang that shit retarded," and it's far from R&B; ("Rapping Bullshit," per RZA parlance). Even the tracks he farms out to Wu-Tang Incorp. affiliates thump hard. "One of These Days" rolls on funk guitars and a blunt beat courtesy of Nick "Fury" Loftin; the southern-playa-listic Cadillac music keeps U-God from ruining it when he's mumbling about being "so unique" and then wanting out of the Clan (?!).
But U-God redeems with his verse on "Soul Power," where he sketches the best vignette: "Crack a Coca-Cola, summer heat was my boredom/ Dr. J before Jordan, Al Green on the organ." Flavor Flav provides the shout-out chorus, and he's kidding around with Meth at the end, talking about family in Long Island. Lyrically the Wu are much more earthy on Iron Flag-- maybe the "thousand-dollar lesbians" weren't catching many fans? Likewise, there's about five percent of the Five Percent, though GZA of course drops his characteristic science. You don't get much introspection, just grandstanding like on "Y'all Been Warned," where RZA digs, "You can't Etch-a-Sketch all my rhyme threat/ Try to bite my flow, you catch ya throat step." The only time they return to the languorous street noir of tracks like "C.R.E.A.M." is on "Babies," a grim Raekwon/Ghostface tale about a crooked cop.
The title track is the lone downtempo diversion. The needle scratches and the synths blow like wind before the music descends into "The Glock," a subsection with little more than a percussion loop rumbling and the Clan gathered round shouting into the mic. It comes across real cold, but then "Dashing" ends the album with Deck singing nursery rhymes; GZA leaves behind a smooth verse James Bond-style before he disappears. With all the catchy choruses, each song on Iron Flag hits like another single to be released. The kung-fu samples are back, Masta Killa's still trying to carve out a name for himself, and the Wu prove they never need guests like Snoop or Isaac Hayes to throw down a strong joint. It's an album about brotherhood, fueled by the national war but no doubt sparked on a more personal level. As Method Man deadpans on "Uzi," "Give you the same advice that I gave my wife: don't fuck with mine." Damn.
