GZA

Review

GZA - Pro Tools

Rusted Tools

The Wu-Tang Clan and its respective members have become hip-hop royalty in their short seventeen years in the music industry.  Cousins and founding members GZA, RZA, and the late Ol’ Dirty Bastard probably had no idea how well they would do together and in their solo careers all those years ago. Gary Grice - aka GZA - not only released five of his unaccompanied albums but appeared on many of the other members’ works.  Pro Tools comes five years after GZA’s last release Legend of the Liquid Sword and is less of a solo album and more a mutual effort with Wu-Elements, a group of producers who mainly work with members of the Wu-Tang Clan.

But lady time can be a bitch and she hasn’t been kind to his aging sound. Pro Tools, though it was much anticipated, fails to meet the hype it created for itself.  Void of the great beats GZA and the Wu-Tang Clan is known for; most of the album is instead spent in déjà vu. What starts off as interesting (‘Pencil’ with its slick sounds and rhymes or the fury of ‘7 Pounds’) becomes reminiscent of the next with regurgitated beats and tempos. Different accents and moods may make some songs better than others, like those found in ‘Path of Destruction’, but overall Pro Tools just sounds the same along its rocky forty-five minute name dropping path.  It’s not until one of the last tracks, ‘Life is a Movie’, that GZA picks up the pace. But by then the album is a lost cause.

What made the Wu-Tang Clan and its respective members so influential to the hip-hop community were their positive lyrics. I’m not saying that the population is all but void of constructive lyricism. But Wu and its corporation addressed social situations without relying on mindless profanity. Thankfully GZA continues this style of songwriting within his solo career.  His most negative song on Pro Tools ‘Paper Plates,’ chronicling his continuing feud with 50 Cent, is written in such an intelligent way that a typical grudge song becomes convincing.  It’s rare to see an artist write a well-versed hater song, but GZA manages to do so with chic and poise. With lines about 50 Cent like, “Sweet-tooth dudes stay out the Candyshop, you ain’t gotta handcuff them to see the panties drop” over a simple drum and bass beat make the song one of the strongest written ones on Pro Tools.  It’s not enough to carry the album or legacy, but adequate to at least warrant one cursory listen.

Amy Dittmeier