In a single line, "First of all, who's your A&R?/ A mountain climber that plays an electric guitar," he conveys a righteous, hard-earned wisdom of someone who'd seen and experienced more things as an artist and a human being than everyone else in the Clan. That asceticism was to expected, since on Wu-Tang's introductory posse cut "Protect Ya Neck", GZA was everything he would be for the duration of his career.
Off the top of my head, there are probably two total lines which acknowledge women as physical beings. Which still worked out: You didn't need to be a star or get much airplay to go gold back in 1996, and do you even know which track here was the first single? Do you recall ever seeing any videos from Liquid Swords? The album's lack of commercial ambition is also reflected in its status as one of the least sexual hip-hop records ever made. Nor was he promoted as one, even if he did end up stealing the Wu's "Chappelle's Show" skits.
Most crucially, out of everyone in Wu-Tang's original formation, GZA is the only one who didn't seem to have much interest in being a star. Whereas Tical, Ironman, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, and Return to the 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version extrapolated upon themes and personalities that necessarily had to be curtailed in the interest of cohesion, GZA as a solo artist was essentially everything that distinguished Wu-Tang from other crews: strictly chess, kung-fu, battle raps, investigative reports, Five Percenter Islam. The reason? It's the most potent distillation of the Wu aesthetic as laid out on Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). It's more informative and worthwhile to view its impact on listeners than other artists, and Liquid Swords is the easiest entry point once people start going beyond the Wu-Tang group LPs. As to why it needs to come out in 2012, it's simultaneously welcome and wholly unnecessary in the same sense a Beatles, Velvet Underground, or Led Zeppelin reissue is: It'll never again be the sound of contemporary pop music, but it's equally impossible to imagine a time when it fails to be a rite of passage for the discerning, a "phase" of intense immersion and compulsive consumption almost inevitable after first contact.
But the question with a reissue like this one is, "Why has it endured?" Because while the deluxe packaging certainly makes it a worthwhile purchase, it's far short of revelatory: In addition to a long interview with GZA in the liner notes, you get something described as a "working" chess set and a bonus disc of instrumentals in case you're the type who likes to spend a night with friends arguing about who gets to be RZA during "4th Chamber" karaoke. There's never been a shortage of "real hip-hop" acolytes ready to explain why Liquid Swords sent MCs into hiding in 1995.