This duo's genius lies less in innovation than in mastery of form, the full realization of what is called the "old school" style of rap. Rakim's voice, some marvelous horn suddenly given the power of speech, is like Miles' fluegelhorn, Cecil Taylor's rhythmic midrange, Coltrane's whispering honk: deadly because quiet, oddly compelling because low in the mix.
What he says--basically, variations on the theme of his own excellence, hip-hop's subject A--is less important than how he says it. His smoldering rage is subsidiary to its barely controlled expression.
