One thing to consider when listening to Bulletproof Wallets is that it came out about a month before what would be Wu-Tang Clan’s last album for six years (2001’s Iron Flag). The allegiance was fraying, the tensions rising and the image of the group giving way to something that looked more like a heavily negotiated trade agreement than a creative brotherhood, complete with nitpicky grievances and the sense that the parties involved didn’t support so much as tolerate each other. Ironman was a landmark and Supreme Clientele even more radical, but Bulletproof Wallets was lower-key. Three years after Ol’ Dirty Bastard had gotten onstage at the Grammys and offered his expert opinion that Puffy was good but Wu-Tang was the best, you could hear Ghostface adapting to the cultural shift toward the hip-hop/R&B hybrids that in the next few years would become the norm, if they weren’t the norm already (“Never Be the Same Again”, “Flowers”). He still told crime stories (the Raekwon-featuring “The Hilton”), but he also played around more earnestly with singing (“Ghost Showers”), slow jams (“Love Session”) and the kind of rap-for-rap’s-sake that would’ve put a smile on the face of grown folks raised on Slick Rick or Run-DMC (“The Forest”)—all modes he explored further on 2004’s The Pretty Toney Album. In a way, it was fitting: With Wu transitioning out of the cultural spotlight, the low-stakes idiosyncrasy of Bulletproof Wallets pointed a way forward, putting Ghost in the company of singular, fan-favourite rappers like MF Doom and Kool Keith. “Excuse me if I’m horny/No doubt, I might knock the beat up,” he raps on “Ghost Showers”. Now in his thirties, he knows how to beg your pardon.