Soldiers of Fortune

Master P's No Limit label proves that nothing succeeds like excess

In other words, though he comes off like a force of nature, Mystikal eventually reveals a variety of human dimensions, including an expansive and absurd sense of humor that adds gaudy color to his cartoonish persona. Though he isn't as self-consciously buffoonish as duet-mate Busta Rhymes (Myst's line, "Mystikal to Busta Rhymes like Dolemite to Red Foxx," excepted). He's capable of interrupting an intense rant about how he escaped from a burning building with the zany "I can't see! I'm blind! Oh, fuck, I'm all right. I just had my eyes closed the whole time. Oops."

Noise annoys, I know, but I wouldn't deprecate the pleasure P's fans take in his senselessly groaned "uhhh"s, caveman grunts as playfully defiant as an armpit fart from the back row of the classroom. But it's more challenging to transform one's beloved squall into an expression of something that can be mistaken for liberation. Mystikal has done that for three albums now, each an improvement on the last. He's almost enough to make the most unregenerate Bolshevik believe that some invisible hand can indeed pluck artistry out of the maw of commerce.

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