When Mos Def said “the kids better buy my rookie card now/cause after this year the price aint comin’ down” in 2002 on the Pharoahe Monch/Nate Dogg collaboration, ‘Oh No’, he couldn’t have been further from predicting his trajectory over the next 7 years, a period in which he has been in danger of becoming something of a hip hop enigma. His music career seemed to be running parallel to the fortunes of Rawkus, the label that helped make his name and then imploded under its own weight.

His stock rose with Blackstar, early singles and the Soundbombing compilations, peaking with his solo debut Black on Both Sides, which managed to satisfy both underground and commercial interests. It delivered a roster of collaborators that everyone wanted; Q-Tip, Talib Kweli, The Beatnuts, Diamond D, Dj Premier, Mr. Khaliyl etc, and with ‘Ms Fat Booty’ and ‘Umi Says’, two recognisable hits. The beats were tight; lyrically it was on point, with wit, relevance, knowing braggadocio and emotive/worldly insight. It is a classic to sit alongside Funcrusher Plus or Train of Thought in the Rawkus catalogue.

But ‘Oh No’ for Lyricist Lounge II, which sought to ensure Rawkus’ crossover and legacy, also signalled the start of the end. It sold, but Rawkus’ credibility took a hit, and soon after their dealings with the majors went sour; it collapsed in on itself, and with its dissipation, seemingly cast Mos Def into the hip hop wilderness. A less than successful sojournment on Geffen led to the distinctly uninspired The New Danger and what increasingly looks like a piece of contract filler, True Magic. The records felt complacent and lethargic, with his attention elsewhere, possibly on a somewhat middling acting career.

New long player The Ecstatic, his first for the Downtown label, is being billed as a return to the form and hunger of his early Rawkus dealings, and the production list already installs the sort of confidence that his debut gave you; Madlib, Oh No, the posthumously ubiquitous J-Dilla, and relative newbies Preservation, Georgia Anne Muldrow and Mr Flash. The lyrical guest spots are kept to minimum, always a sign that an MC has something to say, and the Stones Throw crowd seems like a natural fit.

The albums intentions are already apparent in the cover art, which is taken from the neorealist Charles Burnett film Killer of Sheep that depicted African American culture in the Watts district of LA in the mid 70s. The record similarly aims to be a snapshot, or mosaic of life, that captures a specific point in time.

The Ecstatic feels like a return to the fold for Mos Def, coming off like Obama’s America and its re-engagement with the rest of the globe following recent ostracism. Mos has emerged from his own obstinate insularism to embrace the world. Its in the production of the record as much as anywhere else, with a heavy (middle) eastern imprint throughout. Mos has obviously been listening to Madlib’s Bollywood influenced Beat Konducta in India series and Oh No’s excellent Dr No’s Oxperiment, which turned away from the staple diet of funk 45s and focused on the pysche sounds of Turkey, Lebanon and Greece. Indeed the album opens with ‘Supermagic’ using Oh No’s appropriation of a riff from radical 70s Turkish psychedelic singer Selda, which showed up as ‘Heavy’ on his own record.

As for the rest of the production, Chad Hugo adds some horn bombast early on, J-Dilla brings a more soulful edge underpinning the Blackstar reunion with Talib Kweli on ‘History’, and Mr Flash and Preservation do a bit of everything; maintaining eastern elements, injecting some soul, mariachi and jazz/funk ( ‘Priority’, ‘Casa Bey’), something approaching a crunk/club beat (‘Life in Marvellous Times’), and anything in between (the percussion and hand clap driven ‘Quiet Dog Bite’). However, it is the dense, intriguing production of Madlib and Oh No that steals the show, injecting an undercurrent of foreboding and tension that  others fail to provide.

The lyrics plot a complimentary path to this new awareness, the tone set with the Malcolm X sample that opens the record ( “I, for one, will join with anyone, don‘t care what colour you are, as long as you want to change this miserable condition that exists on this earth”). Overt political statements and specifics are largely avoided though, with the exception of Slick Rick’s 12 bar adaptation of his classic rhyme pattern into an Iraq story on ‘Auditorium’ (‘lookin’ at me curious a young Iraqi  kid/carrying laundry, what’s wrong G hungry?/ No, give me my oil or get fuck out my country’). This is to the benefit of the record (particularly following Mos Def’s apparent penchant for supporting conspiracy theories), instead favouring more suggestive lyrics, highlighting the tension between the pessimism and optimism of the moment. Mos offers no easy answers, emphasising only survival.

For every line highlighting contemporary fears (‘you feel it in the street people breathe without hope/they’re goin through’ the motion’) there is a sanguine statement to embrace the moment (‘peace before everything, God before anything/love before anything, real before everything’; ‘hatred, love and war, and more and more and more and more/and more of less than ever before, it’s just too much more for your mind to absorb/It’s scary like hell, but there’s no doubt, we can’t be alive in no time but now’ ). Mos certainly sounds reinvigorated, even when his distinctive timbre slips into his half sung/half spoken intonation that began to cloud releases post Black on Both Sides.

The Ecstatic delivers what I have been crying out for, a hip hop album that seems relevant to the times without the forced political shtick or the gimmickry of others who have attempted to encapsulate this moment. It is cautiously optimistic, newly aware of the world outside, and slightly claustrophobic, reflecting contemporary complexities. It’s a welcome relief to have an album that touches on the social and  political without leaving you feeling like you have been sledgehammered in the face with simplified, and often disgustingly naïve, pseudo political commentary. This is a hip hop record that is very much of this juncture in history, of re-engagement, observation and globalisation, and for once it works.

GE