GZA, in addition to being one of the best talents in Wu Tang Clan, is also one of the more subtle big names in the hip hop community. Let’s be honest: the vast majority of the genre in the mainstream is utterly useless. Rap is little more than rough rhyme poetry and beats, and most of the MCs that pop up on MTV and the like are solely interested in bragging, posing and degrading women. So when GZA uses his distinctively driving yet laid-back drawl to say things, it’s important what he says. He may not be as socially-conscious or original as some others, but he’s as clever as anyone else in the hip hop industry.
Language is important for the man also known as Genius. With the minimalist, scratchy and soulful beat production found on many of his records (often courtesy of fellow Wu mastermind RZA and other Wu producers), he’s not going to blow many away with musical verve. He’ll never release a “Hey Ya!” or a “Lose Yourself” or any other energetic hip hop anthem so huge that it can be heard in the houses of all but the most uptight music fans. In GZA’s solo canon (thinner than it ought to be, but you can’t hate him for that), only “Cold World” from Liquid Swords can be truly called an amazing individual moment that can stand alone from the rest (controversial statement, I know). He should be congratulated for it, though—even rarer than a truly great artist in the genre is a truly great hip hop album (they too often suffer from too much filler and lame interlude conversation/skit tracks).
Pro Tools gives us plenty of great rhythms but almost no sample-laden refrain changeovers. A track like “0% Finance” could have benefited from such a switch, but a lot of the songs on this album are brief enough to avoid stale repetition (and perhaps to let GZA take a breath after a nearly endless stream of words and phrases). Then on tracks like “Short Race,” “Life Is a Movie” and “Columbian Ties,” the breaks come courtesy of guest stars such as Rock Marcy, True Master and Masta Killa. The RZA-driven music on “Life Is a Movie” (borrowing from Gary Numan) is one of the rare moments when the background truly comes alive instead of existing as a living, breathing metronome for GZA to spit against. But as GZA says: “I am an MC. It has always been about the lyrics.” There’s little room for in-song sonic progressions and tempo changes. When the rhymes are as frequently good as they are here, that’s not a problem.
Among the strongest moments, GZA takes on the usual broad topics of politics, street life, corruption, society, etc. and filters them through his sensibility and admiration for martial arts flicks/mythology, chess and the like. Two tracks alone are dedicated to the destructive pall over inner city youth (“Path of Distruction,” “Short Race”). He even takes the time for the rap go-to move: dissing another rapper. In this case, it’s 50 Cent and G-Unit—is it really fair for someone like GZA to go after someone like 50? The quality divide is ridiculous. That’s like the Beatles calling out the Bee Gees.
It’s difficult to single out strong individual lyrical moments since GZA is all about the flow. There aren’t many choice one or two-liners showcasing his talents. In fact, most of his rhymes fall apart when they’re broken up. “Alphabets” involves a progression through the letters of the alphabet and “0% Finance” compares women to cars at some length—pieces of these tracks seem silly and forgettable, but in the mix of his fast-slow delivery, they’re amusing and sharply intricate. One of the few brief snippets that does stand out is from the already almost-infamous attack on 50 Cent (“Paper Plate”): “One verse will shatter your spine and crush your spirit/ No matter what you still window-shop for lyrics.” GZA may be aging, but he clearly has more bite in his attack than most artists half his age.
Those awaiting another GZA solo record of the strength of Liquid Swords will need to continue waiting. While Pro Tools is a very solid effort all around, its brevity keeps it feeling almost quaint. It’s rare for a hip hop record to truly leave you wanting more: too many drag on too long. Pro Tools joins Nas’ Illmatic and Black Star from Mos Def and Talib Kweli as one of the few hip hop albums to have virtually no filler. Even the interlude tracks are short and work with the sound and themes of the cuts that follow. Since it may be a long time before Wu Tang is at full strength again (if that day ever comes), Pro Tools will keep fans more than happy in the meantime.
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