Tical’s often gone underappreciated in the seminal Wu-Tang solo album discussions but a thorough reexamination places Tical as a brisk showcase of the kind of rapping about rapping that ages like fine cognac more than a common malt. It calls back to an oft-romanticized period when rockin’ the mic was more than enough, with no filler in sight. Even as the clouds don’t part, it’s impossible to take one’s ears off Meth’s agility as he narrates the gutter with formidable finesse.