Raekwon

Shaolin Vs. Wu-Tang

ICEH20… Raekwon

Shaolin Vs. Wu-Tang

ICEH20 Records

Rocks like: The familiar Wu-Tang formula

Grade: B

Kung-fu heroes would be proud: In spite of a mercilessly fickle music industry, hip-hop veteran Raekwon endures, undaunted, unchanged.

The revered MC’s latest album, Shaolin Vs. Wu-Tang, continues to plumb the intersection between gangsta rap and karate films, with strikingly few concessions to current music trends.

Usually, this is refreshing; occasionally, it’s tiresome.

In the spirit of 1993’s Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) (the Wu-Tang Clan’sfoundational first LP), the influential hip-hop group to which Raekwon belongs, Shaolin Vs. Wu-Tang kicks off with a classic kung-fu sample before reintroducing the rough-and-tumble gangster universe — beefs, back deals, sinister maneuvers — that fans of the Clan should now be well-acquainted with.

An incalculable number of lurid narratives ensue, conveyed through Raekwon’s limber rhymes and colored by his pulp sensibilities — “Take it from a ninja in scribes / Stay alive” — and talent for elaborate boasts.

Equally standout are the guest stars: a veritable who’s who of ’90s East Coast giants — Ghostface Killah, Nas, Busta Rhymes — supplemented by a few newcomers like Rick Ross and Jim Jones. Method Man, who appears on two tracks, provides a particularly charismatic foil to his Wu-Tang colleague, delivering some of the most memorable lines on the album (which, for sensitive readers, I’ll refrain from quoting).

Perhaps the most noteworthy aspect of this LP isn’t the lyrics, however, but the production: In songs like “Snake Pond” and “Silver Rings,” Raekwon is audacious enough to rap over traditional Chinese instrumentals interrupted by turntable scratching.

The result is a sound wholly unique to, if not Raekwon, definitely his idiosyncratic collective.

Ultimately, Shaolin Vs. Wu-Tang is an inclusive, un-ambitious celebration of the hip-hop subculture Raekwon and his Wu-Tang associates worked so tirelessly to pioneer.

Admittedly, a few moments in the album feel unnecessary — most notably, the dunderheaded closing chant of “Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang” — but no ’90s rap fan will deem it an unworthy addition. For an artist who’s had such a long tenure in the industry, that’s an accomplishment in itself.