Backspin: Raekwon (featuring Ghost Face Killer)— Only Built for Cuban Linx (1995)
Heaven, hell, or the American Dream? (97/100)
“I believe in America,” Bonasera, shrouded in shadows, says to open The Godfather, cinema’s definitive gangster epic. Bonasera, a first generation immigrant, unspools a tale of brutality and exploitation before asking crime boss Don Vito Corleone to mete out the justice he deems his adopted homeland incapable of delivering a man like him.
That persistent belief in the American Dream, even as its mythology crumbles, lies at the heart of every great crime saga. Only Built for Cuban Linx falls palpably into that lineage.
The solo debut from Wu-Tang Clan wordsmith Chef Raekwon crackles with a savage desperation that can only be inspired by a pot of gold hovering tantalizingly close, yet confoundingly out of reach.
“Half of us’ll try to make it, the other half’ll try to take it,” Raekwon spits matter-of-factly on “Rainy Dayz,” succinctly summarizing the zero-sum nihilism that is both byproduct of and engine fuel for unfettered capitalism. By the time we reach the cinematic standout a third of the way into the album, it’s already clear which half Rae, his live wire partner (in rhyme and crime) Ghost Face Killer, and their Wu-Gambino associates belong to.
Like The Godfather, Only Built for Cuban Linx wastes little time establishing the stakes and the characters’ outsider status. We meet Rae and Ghost plotting a score that’ll get them out of the underworld rat race once and for all.
“I’m not just tryna just be sittin’ on motherf***in’ 200 thou, and actin’ like I’ma be a drug dealer all my life,” Rae laments.
To escape the savagery of the streets requires first embodying it. Rae and Ghost quickly reveal a willingness to do just that. The extended crew is introduced amid brutal vignettes of heists, abductions, incarcerations, and “four bodies found floating in lakes” on “Knuckleheadz.” The lengths to which they’re willing to go are spelled out in Rae’s remorseless account of the demise of “a store owner named Mike Lavogna” on “Knowledge God”.
Devoting half his verse to creating a vividly idiosyncratic portrait of his victim (his pet piranha is named “Marijuana”; his weed pipe “Sandra”), it’s clear Raekwon holds a fondness for the old Italiano. Admiration even. But ultimately, Rae’s route to the American Dream runs through Lavogna’s “truck loads of indo.” Lavogna is dispassionately disposed of, the shipment commandeered. Another rung climbed up the latter of success. The chorus’s operatic strings soar, signaling the synchronicity of triumph and tragedy in the town dubbed “ancient Babylon” by the late Lavogna.
Raekwon’s meticulous scene-setting gives way to Ghost’s frenzied ferocity on “Criminology,” as the formerly masked assassin blasts above the explosive horns of Black Ivory’s ‘70s soul burner “I Keep Asking You Questions”. Despite the visceral urgency of his opening verse, Ghost’s rapid fire rhymes make clear that the true big score sought is musical, not criminal. Raekwon’s closing verse offsets Ghost’s artistic aspirations with a barrage of unrepentant crime rhymes, illustrating the dog eat dog determination with which they’re chasing their creative hustle.
The razor thin line between rap game and street game is illustrated in vivid detail on the brooding second single, “Incarcerated Scarfaces”. A rap battle turns to a robbery when a sucker MC “rollin’ like Trump” gets jumped for his rings and Clark Wallabees after Rae sons him in the cypher. The track’s sneakily catchy hook offers a no frills reminder of the ticking clock on which every hustler grinds, as well as a nod to Rae’s likely fate among the titular inmates if his scheme goes sideways.
The aforementioned “Rainy Dayz” plays like a culmination of the album’s first act, melding the motifs of fact and fiction as the dual narratives converge. Over one of RZA’s most immaculate tracks - a tense construction of meditative flute, ominous strings, and crisp drums - Ghost lays bare his predicament:
Waiting on these royalties takes too long It’s like waitin’ on babies
After a hauntingly atonal vocal riff from vocalist Blue Raspberry, Raekwon delivers a dissertation on the brutal reality of an American Dream deferred:
What brings rain, hail, snow, and earthquakes? The beat breaks, cause all my n****s to break, son Styles is similar to criminals locked up With gats, ghetto tabernacles is f***ed up I live once, though the mind stays infinite Travelin’ to touch nine planets in my midst While I carry, to earn a decent salary Soon get married, raise a family, but the plan’ll be Real great, to sit up in the loft, count stacks and max And real cats cold watch my back But listen to the Wu, son, and maintain It’s all real, starvin’ individuals kill I puff what’s only right, leave the poison alone Projects infested with rats, cats, and crack, holmes Half of us’ll try to make it, the other half’ll try to take it So many fake, half real freedom-build Born to science, my alliance analyzes Wild surprises, keepin’ my eyes wide to this
The plan in place, “Guillotine (Swordz)” reveals the crew in action, pulling a lyrical caper worthy of Ocean’s 11. Over one of RZA’s patented Kung Fu score samples, Rae, Ghost, Inspektah Deck, and GZA unleash bars sharp enough to separate head from neck with an intensity to match the most brutal pistol whipping. It’s as if all four MCs are fully aware that every syllable spit is taking them one step closer to the life of leisure envisioned on “Rainy Dayz”.
The score complete, Rae and Ghost take a moment to reflect on “Can It All Be So Simple (Remix)”. Ghost sets off the impassioned re-imagining of the Clan’s 1994 hit with a stream of consciousness recollection of an out of town deal turned deadly.
“I shoulda stayed in Job Corps,” he laments, acknowledging his squandered opportunity to be part of the “try to make it” half. Regrets are cast aside, just as quickly as they arise. Ghost, like The Godfather’s Michael Corleone, accepts the life he chose. Raekwon looks back from a more detached remove, seemingly exhaling with relief that his past life is behind him. But is it truly?
While Cuban Linx’s second half (Program II, if you owned the iconic “Purple Tape”) adopts a comparatively sunnier tone, often celebrating the spoils of ill gotten gains (or ill-rhyme-gotten), the dark shadow of struggle continues to mute the celebration.
“Ice Water” and “Glaciers of Ice” both begin as homage to the high end fashion that too often stands as shorthand for the American Dream’s realization. The former - a fetishistic love letter to the custom jewelry that was often a staple on the necks and wrists of bosses in rhyme and crime — takes a sour turn when Raekwon’s bling abruptly turns him from predator to prey. The track ends with Rae having to “shoot my way up out of Bennigan’s,” and flatly declaring “that’s life.”
The latter, a virtuosic sonic construction from RZA, layers mystical strings and keys atop a driving drum track, only to cut through the euphoria with bracing gun blasts and explosions - sonic reminders of the suddenness with which the brutality of the streets can crash the flashiest party.
Ghostface’s closing verse celebrates the true big score, Wu-Tang’s 1995 world tour. He even espouses the delayed gratification with which he struggled on “Rainy Dayz,” urging his crew “chill on the whips for seven months, we can all get laced.”
But despite his visions of global domination, Ghost can’t help but anchor his prowess in his underworld roots on the hook:
The treasure is the glaciers of ice, original man Possess the power to hold Gs, guns, and grams
RZA pulls a sonic 180, following the enchanting orchestration of “Glaciers” with a moody exercise in minimalism on “Verbal Intercourse”. The shuffling percussion is augmented by pensive strings and a hauntingly indecipherable vocal sample. The construction creates a claustrophobic backdrop over which Rae, Ghost, and Nas (the album’s only non-Wu affiliated guest) wax introspective on hustling, incarceration, and the inevitability of the cycles that, as Godfather III’s world weary Michael laments, keep pulling them back in. All three mesmerize with vivid imagery and piercing insight, but it’s Nas’s philosophical poetics that synthesize not only the subtext of the song, but much of the album:
Through the lights, cameras, and action, glamor, glitters, and gold I unfold the scroll, plant seeds to stampede the globe When I’m deceased, by then the beast’ll rise like yeast To conquer peace, leaving savages to roam in the streets Live on the run, police paying me to give in my gun Trick my wisdom with the system that imprisoned my son Smoke a gold leaf, I hold heat nonchalantly I’m raunchy, but things I do is real, it never haunts me While funny style n****s roll in the pile Rooster-heads profile on the bus to Rikers Isle Holdin’ weed inside they p**** with they minds on the pretty things in life Props is a true thug’s wife It’s like a cycle, n****s come home, some’ll go in Do a bullet, come back, do the same s*** again From the womb to the tomb, presume the unpredictable Guns salute life rapidly, that’s the ritual
The suffocating circularity of the trife life, capitalism, and the American Dream itself plays out in the album’s final lap. With its propulsive drums and triumphant orchestration, “Wu Gambinos” feels like a grand victory lap; or perhaps more accurately, the high speed escape after the big score’s execution. RZA finally emerges from behind the board to take a turn on the mic, where Method Man and Masta Killa also join the party. All five MCs unleash their boldest boasts in celebration of the the Clan as a unit (“Wu roll together as one/I call my brother “son,” cause he shine like one”) and the success they’ve achieved against all odds.
“Wu Gambinos” would be a fittingly triumphant capstone to a grittily cinematic masterpiece, the Clan’s second in 3 years (GZA’s Liquid Swords would soon make a third). So it’s telling they choose to close with the brooding melancholia of “Heaven & Hell”.
The closer features Rae and Ghost executing yet another robbery over an achingly soulful dirge. The jux is recounted with matter-of-fact detachment, free of the exhilaration and urgency of their previous crime rhymes. Given the leisure with which Raekwon relays the start of his day, this is not a crime of desperation or passion. It’s simply what they do.
It’s as if, for all their earlier justifications and dreams, Rae and Ghost have finally come to the same realization as The Wire’s Avon Barksdale. When faced with the decision to go “straight” or go to war, Barksdale declares “I’m just a gangsta, I suppose. And I want my corners.”
What do you believe in, heaven or hell? You don’t believe in heaven cause we’re livin’ in hell
The chorus repeats as the track rides out for more than two minutes, leaving us to reflect on the odyssey on which Raekwon, Ghostface, and RZA have taken us.
Only Built For Cuban Linx is an affirmation of the the American Dream as a conduit from the gutter to the penthouse, and a catalyst for the brand of bold ingenuity needed to fuel such a rise.
Having dragged us through the hell fires of the journey, the album leaves us with the unsettling suspicion that heaven and the American Dream are diametrically opposed.
Is it even possible to pursue one while believing in the other?
By the Numbers
Production: 10 Lyrics (how the words are put together): 9.5 Delivery & Flow: 9.5 Content (Substance): 9.5 Cohesiveness: 10 Consistency: 9.5 Originality: 10 Listenability: 9.5 Impact/Influence: 9.5 Longevity: 10
Total — 97
This score reflects the tracklist for the original LP and cassette editions. The CD, digital, and later vinyl re-issues contain a bonus track, “North Star (Jewels)”.
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