By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Alice Laussade
By Scott Reitz
Despite all the biblical allusions on the 2002 debut Lord Willin', Virginia Beach's Clipse (brothers Pusha T and Malice) probably didn't intend to also evoke Exodus. But in the aftermath of the Sony-BMG merger that buried the act at Jive, the duo has wandered for years without a release date for follow-up Hell Hath No Fury. Until now.
"I ain't spent one rap dollar in three years," Pusha boasts on Hell's "Keys Open Doors," (and for those not familiar with his day job, these keys stand for kilos). Coursing throughout Hell, a disc as uncut and brain-tingling as Clipse's purported product, there resides a palpable bitterness such as when they are sneering out "these sounds of crackness/The Black Martha Stewart/Let me show you how to do it." Riddled with berating tongue clucks loud as gun cocks on "Ain't Cha" and "Mr. Me Too," the acidic grain of the rhymes is tempered by the Neptunes' tweaked and avant batch of beats. A vertiginous harp strum pervades "Ride Around Shining," an accordion wheezes like a basehead on "Momma I'm Sorry" and eerie female choirs arise elsewhere. Terse, sinister and brilliant, Clipse finally sees daylight just in time for the holidays, suggesting not just more Frosty the Snowman allusions, but nothing less than the true kingdom come.
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