Post by Dark 7 Invader on Feb 10, 2006 9:06:37 GMT -5
Pop quiz: What do the following words mean to you? Chessboxing. Shaolin sword-style. Killa Beez. Dirt McGirt. To hip-hop fans and connoisseurs of fine art from the world over, they add up to just one thing: Wu-Tang Clan, the greatest rap group of all time. Since it burst into the national consciousness with the force and speed of a flying roundhouse kick in 1993, the Wu-Tang Clan has become a cultural phenomenon worthy of its own academic department (or at least an introductory survey course).
This Tuesday, the Clan will play its first New York show since the November 2004 death of Ol’ Dirty Bastard. A founding member of the Wu-Tang Clan, ODB’s eccentricities and legal troubles were often the group’s most visible symbols, and his death from an accidental overdose of cocaine and prescription painkillers raised questions about the group’s future at a time when some already saw its fame fading.
With several new releases on the horizon this year, Wu-Tang may be on the verge of a resurgence, and next week’s Valentine’s Day show at the Hammerstein Ballroom—and the ten other East Coast concerts scheduled—will be an ideal opportunity for fans to see whether they should get their hopes up for a bona fide Wu renaissance. It is also a chance to see several of the most incendiary talents in hip-hop together, in their element, playing to a crowd that is sure to be hanging onto their every word.
Wu-Tang has an unusual appeal. Like Outkast, it is as capable of attracting indie-rock fans as it is hip-hop purists. What’s most impressive, though, is that the Clan has managed to reach new listeners—the ones who may not listen to much rap—without alienating the die-hard rap fans. They’ve kept the respect of their fans because they’ve never sought to appeal to the lowest common denominator. Wu-Tang has never tried to sound like anybody but Wu-Tang. Since the beginning, that has meant the grimy, chilling sound pioneered by the RZA, the Clan’s producer/mastermind, as well as the diverse mic styles of its numerous emcees, ranging from outlandish (ODB) to cool and controlled (the GZA).
Enter the Wu-tang (36 Chambers), the group’s debut album, introduced the Clan’s sound to an unprepared nation, and it could not have sounded less like the slow, rolling grooves that had dominated hip-hop since Dr. Dre’s The Chronic. Eschewing sexy background singers and G-funk synths, the RZA composed 36 Chambers from spare, unsettling samples, thin drums, and dialogue from kung-fu movies. The GZA’s steely reserve, Raekwon’s nervy energy, and ODB’s frantic mugging would all have been out of place in a Dr. Dre production, but they complemented the RZA’s beats perfectly and were essential to the Clan’s huge initial success.
In the years following the release of 36 Chambers, members of the Wu-Tang Clan expanded its sound and reputation with a string of terrific solo albums. Method Man and ODB became legitimate stars, and records like the GZA’s Liquid Swords and Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx are still held up as enduring classics. As the Clan’s emcees staked out territory for themselves, the RZA broadened his musical palette, building dense and forbidding productions for Liquid Swords and branching out with the classic soul samples of Ghostface Killah’s Ironman.
After that first wave of solo albums, however, the Clan’s creative output suffered, even as it tried to extend its recent success to other areas. The number of Clan associates and Clan-related groups grew profusely—Wikipedia lists 28 emcees and 27 groups under “Wu-Tang Clan affiliates”—but keeping up with so many peripheral artists was a daunting proposition. The group also tried to expand its reach beyond music. The Wu Wear clothing line was introduced, the RZA wrote movie scores, Method Man tried acting (no matter what anybody else tells you, How High is hilarious), and ODB went to jail. But for the most part, none of them put out classic albums.
There may be a light at the end of the Wu-Tang tunnel, though. Last fall, the GZA released Grandmasters, a surprisingly successful collaboration with DJ Muggs of Cypress Hill. Ghostface, who has so far bucked the Clan’s downward trend, will release a new album, Fishscale, in March, after months of eager anticipation and several delays. This year will also see Method Man and Raekwon release sequels to their acclaimed solo albums. The records will even feature work from the RZA—a development that’s tempting to interpret as a return to the Wu’s glory days, those few years when the Clan claimed to be taking over the world, and put out enough great records that nobody would have argued the point.
The most recent reminder of Wu-Tang Clan’s continuing greatness may be a song currently available only on file-sharing services. “ODB Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,” from the forthcoming posthumous Ol’ Dirty Bastard album A Son Unique, stands out as a ridiculous song in a catalogue full of ridiculous songs. ODB sets new standards for unintelligibility of his verses, and on the chorus, he croons alongside Macy Gray with the abandon of an oblivious fat kid. The track sounds like it could have come from the best episode of Sesame Street imaginable. True to form, Dirty defied expectations until the very end. The song deserves to be a huge success, and hopefully by the end of the summer we’ll all be complaining about how overplayed it is. Like the man said, “Wu-tang Clan ain’t nothin’ ta f**k wit.”
Props:www.columbiaspectator.com/
This Tuesday, the Clan will play its first New York show since the November 2004 death of Ol’ Dirty Bastard. A founding member of the Wu-Tang Clan, ODB’s eccentricities and legal troubles were often the group’s most visible symbols, and his death from an accidental overdose of cocaine and prescription painkillers raised questions about the group’s future at a time when some already saw its fame fading.
With several new releases on the horizon this year, Wu-Tang may be on the verge of a resurgence, and next week’s Valentine’s Day show at the Hammerstein Ballroom—and the ten other East Coast concerts scheduled—will be an ideal opportunity for fans to see whether they should get their hopes up for a bona fide Wu renaissance. It is also a chance to see several of the most incendiary talents in hip-hop together, in their element, playing to a crowd that is sure to be hanging onto their every word.
Wu-Tang has an unusual appeal. Like Outkast, it is as capable of attracting indie-rock fans as it is hip-hop purists. What’s most impressive, though, is that the Clan has managed to reach new listeners—the ones who may not listen to much rap—without alienating the die-hard rap fans. They’ve kept the respect of their fans because they’ve never sought to appeal to the lowest common denominator. Wu-Tang has never tried to sound like anybody but Wu-Tang. Since the beginning, that has meant the grimy, chilling sound pioneered by the RZA, the Clan’s producer/mastermind, as well as the diverse mic styles of its numerous emcees, ranging from outlandish (ODB) to cool and controlled (the GZA).
Enter the Wu-tang (36 Chambers), the group’s debut album, introduced the Clan’s sound to an unprepared nation, and it could not have sounded less like the slow, rolling grooves that had dominated hip-hop since Dr. Dre’s The Chronic. Eschewing sexy background singers and G-funk synths, the RZA composed 36 Chambers from spare, unsettling samples, thin drums, and dialogue from kung-fu movies. The GZA’s steely reserve, Raekwon’s nervy energy, and ODB’s frantic mugging would all have been out of place in a Dr. Dre production, but they complemented the RZA’s beats perfectly and were essential to the Clan’s huge initial success.
In the years following the release of 36 Chambers, members of the Wu-Tang Clan expanded its sound and reputation with a string of terrific solo albums. Method Man and ODB became legitimate stars, and records like the GZA’s Liquid Swords and Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx are still held up as enduring classics. As the Clan’s emcees staked out territory for themselves, the RZA broadened his musical palette, building dense and forbidding productions for Liquid Swords and branching out with the classic soul samples of Ghostface Killah’s Ironman.
After that first wave of solo albums, however, the Clan’s creative output suffered, even as it tried to extend its recent success to other areas. The number of Clan associates and Clan-related groups grew profusely—Wikipedia lists 28 emcees and 27 groups under “Wu-Tang Clan affiliates”—but keeping up with so many peripheral artists was a daunting proposition. The group also tried to expand its reach beyond music. The Wu Wear clothing line was introduced, the RZA wrote movie scores, Method Man tried acting (no matter what anybody else tells you, How High is hilarious), and ODB went to jail. But for the most part, none of them put out classic albums.
There may be a light at the end of the Wu-Tang tunnel, though. Last fall, the GZA released Grandmasters, a surprisingly successful collaboration with DJ Muggs of Cypress Hill. Ghostface, who has so far bucked the Clan’s downward trend, will release a new album, Fishscale, in March, after months of eager anticipation and several delays. This year will also see Method Man and Raekwon release sequels to their acclaimed solo albums. The records will even feature work from the RZA—a development that’s tempting to interpret as a return to the Wu’s glory days, those few years when the Clan claimed to be taking over the world, and put out enough great records that nobody would have argued the point.
The most recent reminder of Wu-Tang Clan’s continuing greatness may be a song currently available only on file-sharing services. “ODB Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,” from the forthcoming posthumous Ol’ Dirty Bastard album A Son Unique, stands out as a ridiculous song in a catalogue full of ridiculous songs. ODB sets new standards for unintelligibility of his verses, and on the chorus, he croons alongside Macy Gray with the abandon of an oblivious fat kid. The track sounds like it could have come from the best episode of Sesame Street imaginable. True to form, Dirty defied expectations until the very end. The song deserves to be a huge success, and hopefully by the end of the summer we’ll all be complaining about how overplayed it is. Like the man said, “Wu-tang Clan ain’t nothin’ ta f**k wit.”
Props:www.columbiaspectator.com/