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Thursday, May 24, 2012

By Sam Decker
Published: August 6, 2009

He has a way with words. Ghostface Killah has just finished explaining how making records is like having sex. "Know what I mean?" asks the hugely successful 39-year-old Staten Island rapper. Every point he makes is expressed in a riff of abstract profanity. His meaning is clear: music sometimes is love; sometimes it's just sex. "That's how it's been all my life with music," he says, and then he's silent for several seconds.

Ghostface Killah, a member of the seminal hip-hop group Wu-Tang Clan and a driven solo artist, is on tour with Redman and Method Man, and about to make an appearance to a sold-out crowd at Nectar's.

The night before the show, against a raucous background of laughter and hip-hop music coming from his tour van, Ghostface takes the phone.

What would he be doing if he weren't who he is?

"I'd probably be out there, feeding the poor people, taking care of poor babies in different parts of the world and all that. Giving lots of sacrifice to God, and that's it. There ain't nothing else for me to do after that."

Born Dennis Coles, Ghostface has maintained the most consistent solo career of any member of the Clan. Since his 1996 debut "Iron Man," he's released several critically acclaimed records, including "Supreme Clientele" and "Fish Scale." He's currently at work on an R&B-inspired album called "The Wizard of Poetry."

Although the delivery is different - slower and more thoughtful - his conversation comes across much like his lyrics.

Ghostface's lyrics are delivered like someone telling a story while simultaneously running from the cops - his breathless, stream-of-consciousness style is his unique art. Drugs are his thematic home base, and the violence, poverty, and crime that surround that world make up the bulk of his output. He also frequently addresses his faith in God.

"As far as my poetry, you know what I mean, my imagination is like a photograph," he says. "But I don't see things the way other people see them. My imagination is kind of wild, you know."

It's an intuitive process - practiced spontaneity. "Basically I catch the mood off the music," he says. "If the music sounds like a rainy day, like you know, a real sneaky vibe, where it sounds like a murder went down at night, you know, then that's what I'm going to write. If it sounds like the sun is out and everyone is having fun, like a fun beat, then I'm going to write about someone that's having fun."

He continues, "I just look for lines, whatever come in my head. I try that, I try that," he repeats. "I keep trying a bunch of things until I found what sounds the best."

He is clear about his goals: "I'm still striving. The album I got right now, I want it to be the best R&B record that anyone's ever heard coming from an MC...All the other goals are, you know, get it and move up, cash, pimpin', and just expanding whatever you've got to expand."

Ghostface on the Vineyard: he isn't sure what to expect. "I heard the Vineyard was nice, but I never knew what was there and what it was you do there and stuff like that. If it's hot, I'll check out the beach, you know, that would be nice, and see if I want to come back."

It's close to 10 pm, Saturday. Nectar's parking lot is a scene of chaotic ebullience. The line outside the entrance swells while droves of ticketless 20-somethings stand in the parking lot, their faces aglow as they text everyone they know.

Inside, it is shoulder to shoulder - a sea of Wu-Tang Clan hand symbols fills every square inch. Ghostface Killah, backed by two young MCs, takes the stage. Wearing a long, white tee shirt and a plaid backwards hat, he slinks around the stage, slightly hunched. Like a sorcerer, his arms are the agents of his energy.

"Change the lights. Put the blue lights on. It's time to get busy," Ghostface shouts.

The D.J. drops a beat that makes your ribcage vibrate. The crowd roars. The set ends and everyone is commanded to make a peace sign: a chant becomes a roar, "Peace, peace, peace..."