Pharoahe Monch is an enigmatic soul: a conscious rapper and complex lyricist whose best-known line implored 'girls, rub on your titties' and who was last heard ghostwriting for the infamously uncomplicated Diddy. The lead MC with cult hip-hop act Organized Konfusion scored his biggest hit when he went solo in 1999, and promptly exited stage left pursued by a monstrous lawsuit (he was sued for sampling the old Godzilla theme on 'Simon Says'), turning up only on movie soundtracks (Charlie's Angels, Training Day), and in industry gossip columns as he was sought by Eminem's Shady Records in a surprise move that predictably came to nought.
Pharoahe, then, is a world away from the typical underground rapper. Though Desire addresses such weighty issues as war, gun crime, Bush, adultery and poverty, its lead single is the rap'n'roll 'Body Baby', on which he does an uncanny Elvis imitation over fuzz-toned keyboards and a beat more Motown than Marley Marl. Gnarls Barkley aren't the only ones to realise the fun to be had when rap aesthetics meet retro pop. But 'Body Baby' is the exception on an album that starts in bright confident mode, with self-explanatory track titles such as 'Free', 'Push' and 'Desire' sounding like Curtis Mayfield receiving political instruction from Malcolm X, before turning decisively to the dark side with a mini-concept about a marriage (a metaphor for the music industry?) unravelling over the course of several tracks. Although Pharoahe could write intriguing lines about the length of his toenails, this succession of soulful midtempo tunes costs the album its head of steam built up over the first half.
Besides 'Body Baby', the weirdest thing here is a partially rewritten cover of Public Enemy's 'Welcome to the Terrordome'. If Pharoahe's intention was to prove he's the only rapper who can go line-for-line with Chuck D's most ferocious rhymes, it's a victory, if somewhat pyrrhic. But his political spleen is better vented on the incredible 'Agent Orange', a track so old it was written in protest at the run-up to the invasion of Iraq, but which still sounds astonishingly fresh thanks to Sa-Ra's squirly electronics, Pharoahe's corrosively brilliant lyrics and remarkable singing (an underused tool on this album). 'Rap's like Star Wars,' he rhymes on the ominously sparse 'What It Is', 'only the stars die and there's no sequel.' Eight years after his last album, Pharoahe's return doesn't disappoint.
Download: 'Agent Orange'; 'Body Baby'
