Pitchfork

In the kung-fu sampling intro to Masta Killa's blaring Wu throwback "It Is What It Is", a resourceful fighter is asked to combat "very powerful" guns with his own lo-tech weaponry; "My darts can beat a pistol?" he asks. While the Wu-Tang Clan ready another reunion tour, many members seem to feel out of place in 2006's hip-hop landscape, as if they're unsure if their style can compete with the modern 50s and Jeezys of the Rap Machine. There's no better evidence of this phenomenon than Pitchfork contributor Tom Breihan's fascinating Method Man interview for The Village Voice in which the MC speaks about the corroding influence of the music industry on the WTC, "They just take the flavor out of shit after a while. But people just get used to you or tired of you. I hate to say it." With patience and skill, the Wu's own "quiet one," Masta Killa, has managed to evade the commercial trappings that have tainted so many of his brethren. After sticking with an in-house, classic-Wu style with his years-in-the-making 2004 debut, No Said Date, he comes back relatively quickly with another reliable nostalgia trip with Made In Brooklyn.

The 37-year-old rapper's entrenched style-- an amalgam of GZA and RZA's off-kilter philosophizing, Meth's blunted-lothario charm and U God's laconic punches-- makes it seem like he's never heard a non-Wu track in his life. Which, of course, is not necessarily a bad thing. And it makes sense considering Masta Killa didn't even start rhyming until he joined the Clan as their final official member in the early 1990s. With a flow diametrically opposed to that other Killah's emotional thralls, he's a steadfast rock whose lack of dynamics prohibits him from royally fucking up; it also eliminates his chances of producing a true Wu pillar.

Considering his limited range as an MC, Masta Killa's beats become extremely crucial. Simply put, the quicker the BPM, the more nimble his flow. And though RZA sits out yet another Wu venture on the production side, contemporaries like MF Doom and Pete Rock along with a slew of young disciples dutifully fill in. "Brooklyn King" has him coolly blowing localisms over old-school NYC minimalism-- just a jazzy drum track and a quick bass run. The faster-is-better maxim also holds up on the horn-funked Rae and Ghost showcase "It Is What It Is"-- the most electric out-and-out banger-- and the sweet-smelling "Pass the Bone (Remix)," a 9^th Wonder-style Al Green soul cut from Brooklyn producer Jig Sor. Also helping his cause are RZA and especially Method Man, who show remarkably vital signs of life on the stutter step horn pop of "Iron God Chamber". With its wealth of stellar collaborations, Brooklyn bodes well for the next full-fledged Wu LP, should it ever come to pass.

The album falters, though, when it breaks from the Clan's formula (the canned r&b of "Let's Get Into Something", the jolting, out of place reggae closer "Lovely Lady") or lags (the plodding, Doom produced "E.N.Y. House", the limp loverman track "Nehanda and Cream", which utilizes the same Gladys Knight sample Kanye used to brilliant effect on Scarface's "In Cold Blood", with lesser returns). Still, Masta Killa's slow-but-steady cadence lingers lovingly on the clipped ballad "Street Corner", featuring Inspectah Deck and GZA spitting raw, unflinching pain over mournful strings.

Truth be told, nobody in the WTC really fits into the trends and fads of today. The group's no-frills aesthetic defines their legend but it also prohibits their progress. But the Clan's consistency-- once again proven by this solid effort from their least recognizable contributor-- is utterly staggering. Countless rap crews from G-Unit to D12 to Dipset have tried to copy the Wu model only to peter out artistically by the time the third or fourth member drops his solo long player. So, until 40 Cal releases an album as effortlessly listenable as Made In Brooklyn, the Wu's domination as a collective is secure.