Ah, spring! A sunny day and a new Redman album. Ah shit, it ain't sunny no more. Fuckin' Seattle. Ah well, it's cool, 'cause Red Gone Wild was still worth the long-lamented wait. I was a little scared, seeing as how most MCs of his generation or younger are either turning in aight-but-bitter records (Method Man's 4:21) or now-I'm-a-killer bullshit these days (Big Bang, anyone?); RGW, though, is his most solid back-to-front listen since 1998's Doc's Da Name. Red's flow hasn't lost a single construction-Timbo'ed step. The fonky production (handled by Erick Sermon and Timbaland among others) suits him to a (long white) tee, and Mr. Noble sticks to what he does best: crassly hilarious, nut-holding shit talk. Oh, and nuff weed speak. One dimensional? Nah, consistent—and sadly underappreciated in today's purely single-driven epoch. Peace to iTunes. Anyway, forget you—do me a favor and go buy a copy of Red Goes Wild. I get tired of talking about hiphop with people who don't know shit about hiphop!

I recently acquired Mustache Immaculate—no, not some transcendent state of facial-hair nirvana—the debut CD from local MC Type, also known as Typecast, and member of Illegitimate Children with Grieves and Murder Dice. Type is your friendly neighborhood shitbag MC, an everyday dude with regular issues: His team can't win for shit, girls hate him, and he's bald as a mufucka. Thankfully, it doesn't mean he can't contribute a fresh album to the local catalog. Speaking on his own trials and errors, Type's got a sense of humor that (with the ill, quirky production) keeps things light, instead of the straight pity party many concoct. It's clear Mr. Immaculate loves the scene too, as evidenced by his Indie Hop weekly going down at Tommy's, as well as the album opener "For the Love," where he pulls a bit of a "Connect For," namedropping several crews and MCs from the town. Speaking of, the kid Rik Rude absolutely murders a couple of appearances, so watch out for this dude. To keep it funky though, there're a few moments where Type plays the stereotypical "underground" MC, humorlessly railing against the mainstream and preaching the redemptive power of hiphop. Shit, that might be right up your alley, but I vastly prefer when he's not up on a soapbox, but down in the crowd... which, thankfully, is the majority of the record. Don't sleep. Hit up www.myspace.com/perfectstrangers and get you one.

Laced Up is not just a state of being, it's also the name of a store that can get you there. On East Pike Street across from the War Room, Capitol Hill's newest street-wear emporium is brought to you by co-owners Cassius and Kemet; their grand opening night last month treated some of the scene's nattiest to free Heines and a gander at their cutting-edge wares. Kemet is also known as Kemet Asen, a seriously skilled local MC you will hear about soon. The homie Cassius manages Asen along with Rik Rude and Lord Vintage, collectively known as Deluxe Gentlemen. Hopefully this hiphop-heavy pedigree will mean I can find a shirt there bigger than M. recommended

hiphop@thestranger.com