Rakim - 'The Seventh Seal' (Ra Records/SRC/UMG)

There's a scene in The Wrestler where Mickey Rourke's character (Randy "The Ram" Robinson) quits wrestling and decides to try his hands at being a grocery attendant. Ram goes to work one morning, realizes he's embarrassed by his job, yells at his boss, and walks away from the deli. His goal was to grace that good ol' wrestling ring. This is Rakim's comeback effort in a nutshell sans the magical ending.

After enduring an unsuccessful stint at Dr. Dre's Aftermath emporium, Rakim walked away from the project citing creative differences. Ra's quest for a second wind was met with a dispiriting struggle for compromise.

Rakim was a universally acknowledged master lyricist back when hip-hop supremacy wasn't determined by a rapper's ability to run a clothing line. He revolutionized emceeing with innovative techniques, like internal rhymes and multi-syllabic rhyme schemes, at a time when nursery rhyming was the order of the day. He comes from the era of pure emceeing, when rappers moved the crowd by rapping about rapping. Those boastful raps will only get you so far these days. Ra's peers -- well, the ones who recognize this change in dynamics -- have managed to stay relevant by expanding their range and cautiously exploring new styles.

Seventh Seal is Rakim's first album of the decade, and Ra tries to reassert his authority as the super MC right off the bat, kicking off the party with "How To Emcee." The album opener is part lyrical clinic, part braggart.

There are no particularly outstanding moments on Seventh Seal, though "How To Emcee" and "Holy Are U" show that the self-acclaimed god MC is still capable of stringing some tricks together every now and then. He continues to be the best at self-congratulatory raps, as evidenced on "Holy Are U" ("Trace this style to the roots of Genesis / The world wonder / I'm still standing like pyramids").

Seventh Seal suffers in the production department. An array of middling producers turn in beats so mediocre that even Ra's outstanding mic presence isn't enough to carry the day. The beats are headache-inducing, sometimes overly embellished with unnecessary bells and whistles. The hackneyed chipmunk soul of "Message in the Song" sticks out like a sore thumb. "Dedicated,” a heartfelt tribute to Ra's late mother, is undermined by an atrocious No Doubt sample.

The producers aren't unaided in their effort to ruin this comeback party. Occasionally the album finds our host resting too hard on his past laurels as if he's allergic to change. No one expects a return to the 1987 Rakim. That's probably too much to ask of the 41-year old. But his brilliance is marred by his poor choice in topics ("Psychic Love," seriously?).

Unfortunately, Rakim's desperate attempt to confine his sound within a safe zone betrays his inability to keep up with the times. And I never thought I'd ever use those words in the same breath as the name "Rakim." Sure, he's still the greatest MC alive. Yes, he revolutionized the art of emceeing. But this is about the Rakim of today. And the Rakim of today is a shadow of his majestic old self. You could argue that this is the most uninspired he's sounded in his 23-year career.

The Wresler concludes with Ram successfully returning to the sport he loved dearly, much to the delight of his fans. If you're sitting on the edge of your seat, please back up a bit. This wasn't quite the Wrestler-esque comeback Rakim fans held their breaths for.

• "Holy Are U"
• "How To Emcee"