When you’re one of rap’s foremost figures, architect of generational lodestars and cult classics alike, two paths present themselves. You can tack left, chase lightning, seek greater and bolder heights through formal innovation. Or you can revisit past glories, play to your strengths, give the people what they paid for. Save for a few turn-of-the-century hiccups, Raekwon has prioritized customer satisfaction. He has one of hip-hop’s (only) great sequels to his name, his vivid reinterpretations of well-trod lore continuing on 2011’s Shaolin vs. Wu-Tang and 2017’s steely, overachieving The Wild. Where Wu’s latter-day reunion efforts suffer from thematic and musical disjointedness, the result of too many five-star chefs in the kitchen, Rae’s solo catalog is roomy and flamboyant; a succession of major-label deals guaranteed ready audiences even in lieu of chart-topping hits.

The Emperor’s New Clothes—the second entry in Mass Appeal’s Legend Has It series, a Blue Note-style project commissioning new efforts from rap’s decorated elders—aims to split the difference. It’s the album you’d release in 2006 to prove you’ve still got it, adaptation before rebirth, fingers crossed that Hot 97 slots you into the drivetime playlist. It’s one of those Wu albums that doesn’t feel like a Wu album, brimming with horns and Akai drums. The songs are defined less by sounds or ideas than by their sanded-down edges: plodding beats from Nottz and J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League, histrionic Marsha Ambrosius hooks, putative passings of the torch.

Fishscale and More Fish are the best versions of this record, and they came out when George Pataki was governor; the datedness of Emperor’s New Clothes is compounded by its listlessness. “Wild Corsicans” is the main attraction, Rae running the anchor leg on a track with disciples Benny, Conway, and Westside Gunn. It practically goes without saying that Rae could do Griselda better than Griselda, but he’s not stepping on toes, and the lackadaisical chipmunk soul does them few favors. On “The Guy That Plans It,” Rae outlines a chase scene; producer RoadsArt, best known for his work with outer-ring Wu affiliate Hell Razah, weaves in dialogue and street noise. It would’ve been the best song on the record, but Rae’s narrative screeches to a halt after a minute, the protagonist shot dead in his tracks.

The Ghostface duet “Mac & Lobster,” at least, is fun in a getting-the-band-back-together way. Where Ghost’s voice has been ravaged by incessant touring—those sample-clearance suits aren’t going to pay for themselves—Rae sounds virtually unchanged since ’95. “Debra Night Wine,” on the other hand, is disastrous, an atonal struggle-love ballad suffused with minor-key unease. The song’s nearly half over by the time Rae wanders into the frame, name-checking a melange of cross-streets and jewelry pieces before wandering back out. He can call in favors—Meth and Deck clock in obligingly—but the cut-rate arrangements lend the air of a work-for-hire, and RZA isn’t walking through that door. Rae ought to be lavished or else humbled; he needs more resources, or none at all.

Structural deficiencies aside, Mass Appeal might’ve workshopped the pitch a bit further. For all the fanfare around Legend Has It, Raekwon’s eighth album isn’t the same draw as a Slick Rick comeback in 2025. Wu loyalists have already shelled out for a stitched-together reunion effort and farewell tour this year; The Emperor’s New Clothes never makes a case for itself. (There was some palace intrigue when Ghost tried to release The Big Doe Rehab on the same day as 8 Diagrams, but this is a saturated market.) Rae’s previous outing, The Wild, was expansive and expensive, an insistent declaration that Rae wasn’t quite ready for the nostalgia circuit. He can book a nightclub tour and run the purple tape whenever he likes—surely there are a few untapped chambers left to explore.