Same old same old. Stuck in a rut. Rehashing the grits. Recycling The Shit.

Pretty dull opening lines, huh? You expected better? Well, that’s how I felt after trudging through Black Flag or Flagging A Dead Horse or whatever the hell it’s called.

By any other name, this is Wu-Tang 4, the sequel, and like all fourth generation copies, the definition is compromised. Okay, 2000’s The W album was strong, particularly ‘Gravel Pit’ and ‘I Can’t Go To Sleep’, but in retrospect there were definite signs of a formula being tested to its utmost.

And alas, the opening of Iron Flag confirms this fan’s worst fears, with its “Fake ass niggaz - blah blah blah – killer bees, bitches – blah blah blah – suck my dick – blah blah blah” lyrics and its lame dog beats. This doggerel might’ve served some purpose in baiting Tipper Gore and Joe Lieberman ten years ago, but right now, in the face of Outkast and DMX and Missy Elliot, it just sounds old.

Of course, there are some prime Wu-Tang tunes here: ‘Uzi (Pinky Ring)’, with its Shaft brass and pumped up pimp roll, is as good as anything they’ve done. Ditto the slinky street fable ‘Babies’ and the stop-start piano motion of ‘Back In The Game’. But this listener misses the sheer force of character of ODB or Redman, an ill not even guests like Flavor Flav and Ron Isley can remedy.

This is not the extrous this is not the dextrous seven-samurai-of-rap collective that exploded the form on those first two albums. Sadly.