On its surface Mo' Mega appears to be more of the same renegade rap on which Definitive Jux has built its reputation. All the Jukie generals are lined up behind a battery of El-P's thunderous howitzers, barking commands, but this time something is different. In the past a Lif/El-P collusion meant mayhem and doomsday, but Mo' Mega is, once the smoke clears, a personal, and, in its own neurotic way, ultimately optimistic album. Lif's realizing there is no revolution and no winnable wars. He's spent years calculating his dissension, and the woes of the world have only gotten worse. So, finally, he makes a record that expresses universal frustrations instead of weirding everyone out with labyrinthine rants about things we already know, and, in the process, finds a way to live a little.

Let me say up front that I've always had a soft spot for Lif's robo-Rakim monotone, but often enjoyed his albums the same way I enjoy crack music-- by reveling in the syntax and ignoring the contents. Only with Lif, it was because he was shirking responsibility by abstracting it instead of ignoring it altogether like, say, Cam'ron. From Enters the Colossus to I, Phantom, Lif distanced himself through elaborate conspiracy theories and album-length allegories. Technically interesting, but hardly an attempt to connect. He revealed a bit more of himself on last year's Perceptionists album with songs like "Love Letters" and "Breathe in the Sun", yet nothing that really indicated the revelations on Mo' Mega.

Lif claims this is his most sincere album, but stacked against the mechanical rhetoric of his priors, it's his only sincere album. He's not yet the rap James Taylor, but he is relatively vulnerable, saying, "I wish I could ring the blood outta your clothes/ Give back your afros and your strong black nose...And I yawn and grow weary/ Succumb to old theory that strips my wits of thoughts I used to hold dearly," on "Take , Hold, Fire!". And he actually sounds angry on "Brothaz": "The Bush Administration's worth nothin' Just fuck em!/ Throw ‘em in a barrel Buck ‘em!...Fuck Clinton too!/ You ain't really down because you live Uptown, bitch/ Rwanda!" It may not look that emotional on paper, but it's the equivalent of Al Gore 2006 vs. Al Gore 2000. It's both frustrating and energizing that someone with Lif's ability is finally being himself after years of cryptic bullshit. And that's before he gets to the songs about cunnilingus.

Where Lif really succeeds here is in taking things personally. The pronouns are now "I" and "my," and his problems with the government are now the missed moments with his lady because he has to make a check. He's articulating the prospect of having a family when you're getting older and can barely provide for yourself, and the daily frustration of feeling like your country has failed you. None of these are musical or artistic epiphanies, but it's Lif's realization that his problems are commonplace that makes Mo' Mega more interesting than his other stuff.

El-P continues paring down his signature maelstroms to focused goth-funk. The guitars now riff, the keyboards stab. His drums pummel harder given more space, and odd little bits of nostalgia surface from the rubble with a sampled piano roll or horn blast. And when El-P gives up the controls, things even threaten to get fun (shhh). Edan contributes another seamless fast rap rumbler on the absurd "Murs Iz My Manager", Lif himself flips a dancehall riddim on "Washitup!" (the aforementioned ode to going downtown), and Nick Toth channels Boston progenitor Ed O.G with his plinks and strums on "For You", Lif's letter to his future seed. Not to be left out of the good times, El-P uses the musique concrete of enthusiastic sex for percussion on "Long Distance". It's almost like Def Jux is lightening up, and Mo' Mega is the new mission statement. If that's the case, it's about time.