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. 
