LIF STYLE: Solid shows and press accolades helped cast Lif's emerging identity as a high-concept Chuck D of the hip- hop underground. : Michael T. Regan

"He was doing a photo shoot and said he moved to Philly—fucking four blocks away from me," says Britt, sounding utterly amazed at the appearance of his new Fishtown neighbor. "We had meant to collab before, so you best believe something is going down between us this fall or winter. His freestyle is bananas!"

Indeed it is, but Britt shouldn't set aside too much studio time just yet. After all, it's taken Lif four years just to finish Mo' Mega (Definitive Jux), the follow-up to his four-act hip-hopera I Phantom. (As Pitchfork plainly put it in a review of the record, "This sure as fuck ain't Nellyville. In fact, the album's thematic and narrative scope has more in common with Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections than it does with a hip-hop album.") Lif describes the delay between solo albums as a "hiatus I didn't even know was happening," part of a hazy and endless season of touring that took him across the States and Europe several times over, either in supporting slots as a solo artist or as a sideman to fellow Definitive Jux artists such as Aesop Rock and label head El-P.

Solid shows and press accolades from Punk Planet to URB helped cast Lif's emerging identity as a high-concept Chuck D of the hip-hop underground, someone unafraid to subvert everyday issues (poverty, death, corporate cronyism, the impending apocalypse) into a metaphorical resurrection tale. If all this sounds like a late-night movie on IFC, that's not far off; the narrative unfurls like a film co-directed by Quentin Tarantino and Prince Paul. Unfortunately, the rapper was too busy balancing a four-year relationship, interview requests and the road to enjoy any of his critical, and to some degree commercial, success. (I Phantom sold nearly 50,000 copies.)

"I went through my phase of doing every show and saw where it got me—a lot of good things, like a foothold that allowed me to have a hiatus and people still give a fuck about what I do," says Lif, speaking from his home right off I-95 near his new favorite word, Wawa. "At the same time, it wears you out, man. Like my ears are now tender from a lot of shaky sound people."

Touring also took an incredible toll on Lif's personal life—enough to make him reconsider his career choices. It's an issue he explores on two new songs, with grinding guitars on "Collapse" and grinding lyrics on "Long Distance." With one relationship clearly dissolved and another one surfacing in the past year, Lif vowed to pace the push for Mo' Mega. Oh, and move to Philly, where he could focus and enjoy a simpler life than the rising costs of New England allow.

"Boston was some bourgeois, we're going to charge you an arm, leg and a liver to buy a fucking house here," says Lif. "So I moved to Philly in September of '05. Then the winter set in and there was a period of hibernation. Left to my own devices, I'd just be a hermit, but now it's like, "Fuck it, it's time to get social.' My block's already gotten a lot younger and hipper since I moved here last fall."

Interestingly enough, Lif isn't the only Definitive Jux recluse who's relocated to Philadelphia in recent years. His close friend and occasional tourmate, producer RJD2, has been working out of his West Philadelphia home for some time now. And now that Lif's nearby, he just might leave his mecca of old records and wide-open spaces from time to time.

"I've always been cast as a loner, able to relate to people musically more so than personally," says RJ. "But Lif's always been my rock, the one guy I could always talk to on Def Jux tours. I don't give a fuck about who's DJing for so-and-so and who has a beef with yada-yada—none of that. All I care about is buying furniture and boring domestic shit like Aqua Teen Hunger Force DVDs and video games. Lif leads a similar lifestyle, so I'm stoked he's in Philly."

So far, RJ has spent more time hanging out with Lif than working. (It doesn't help RJ just finished touring commitments of his own, for his side project Soul Position and a one-off Aceyalone album.) What does he think of Lif's new LP, then? You know, from an honest friend's perspective?

"I almost like it better than I Phantom," says RJ. "Some of the stuff on that was so abrasive, so I had to be in the mood for it to listen. But this record is a little more lighthearted and melodic, which I like."

The topical and sonic changes are probably a good idea, since Lif has long been pegged as a well-read "angry black man" not unlike Spike Lee or, again, Chuck D. That assumption fits him to some degree—he is very intelligent, informed about politics and issues that actually matter beyond typical rap fare—but Lif is also one of the nicest musicians you'll ever talk to.

"I feel like any other outspoken black man in the past," explains Lif. "Like the focus was never on Malcolm X's home issues—about him finding a woman he loved, having three kids with her and getting shot. I'm not comparing myself to Malcolm, but it's hard for me to show my human side."

Referring to a recent phone conversation with Britt, Lif adds, "I was asking if he wanted to hang out and he was like, "Nah man, I'm in Cleveland and about to DJ LeBron James' after-party.' That's the kind of prestigious shit I'm moving towards. That, and like playing Bonaroo or Coachella."

Mr. Lif plays Sun., June 18, 8 p.m., $15, with Cage, Camu Tao and Yak Ballz, The TLA, 334 South St., 215-922-1011, www.thetla.com.