Album Review: Aesop Rock - Skelethon

No rapper bears as close a comparison to James Joyce as Aesop Rock. Both the novelist and the hip hopper have the tendency to flail around, desperately trying to get their heads above their own bullshit. But both also have the capacity for brilliance, for creating a moment of transcendence where all silly stylistic tricks are forgotten and a moment of perfection emerges. There a several such moments on Skelethon.

Ruby '81 is a short, gripping narrative about a child and a dog, and an echo of Aesop's now 11-year-old triumph No Regrets. The beat lends gravitas. Aesop's delivery adds drama. His flow remains unchanged through the song; his only tool is his increasingly manic staccato. For all that, the crescendo is quiet and cathartic. It will stay with you. Ruby '81 is a story told the way all rappers should tell stories. Grace is either about a child not eating its greens or – in true Aesop style – it is a complicated metaphor about something completely unrelated. Either way it sounds great. Album closer Gopher Guts is the highlight. Gently foreboding and admirably withheld, it's another wonderful enigma. The chorus is different each time but for the final line: “Then I let 'em go... Oh.” Gopher Guts asks more questions than it answers but, then again, unanswered questions are the chief joy of the album.

Aesop Rock albums have always been flabby and the same is true here. For every engaging mystery there's a clanger. The album begins with three consecutive stumbles: Leisureforce, ZZZ Top and Cycles To Gehenna. Fatigue sets in quickly. Then – bang! – Zero Dark Thirty, the album's biggest and most immediate tune. We waited five years for Skelethon after 2007's None Shall Pass. Well worth it.

Aesop Rock Skelethon James dApice