When Wu-Tang Clan’s debut album Enter the 36 Chambers was released in 1993, I was thirteen years old. I remember it vividly because Theodora, my longtime friend/ crush, had gifted me a bootleg copy of the LP on cassette tape. For those too young to remember, pirated copies of tapes and CDs were the only way the working class could afford to own all of the newest music, as well as underground gems. These budget-friendly finds were peddled on street corners and flea markets throughout PVD. At the time, I was more apt to be seen wearing a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt; Trent Reznor’s then revolutionary “industrial” spin on grunge rock blew my mind, and still does. But Theodora was spot on when she told me I’d be into Wu-Tang. For me, Enter the 36 Chambers broke all of the barriers that hip-hop had previously faced. It felt like a concept album that no artist in the genre had attempted before. The sheer number of members in the group gave the album a sense of depth and gravity. No other hip-hop group had even come close to as cohesive a vision as these nine distinctly different individuals were able to formulate.
This past April 16, PVD’s very own AS220 played host to a performance by one of those founding members, Masta Killa. The crowd was small, but passionate. Wu apparel was blatantly prominent and apparent. This author was sure to don his yellow and black hoodie emblazoned with their iconic logo as I was able to reflect on a thirty-year dynasty rarely seen in art, let alone music. Hip-hop can be a fickle market. Styles change frequently as new artists emerge from different regions, each adding their own eclectic ingredients to an evolving stew. New generations create their versions of vernacular, adding complexity to the genre. This can make it difficult to stay relevant in a shifting vacuum. One-hit wonders are in abundance, but long-standing mainstays are few and far between.
Wu-Tang has transcended a generation; it’s larger than a cult following but more significant than mere mainstream. One has to wonder, how have they been able to strike that balance while continuing to appeal to an audience that is perpetually on the lookout for the next new sound? For me, it went beyond the gritty narratives depicting urban life. This was a common thread in the genre, and while Wu-Tang were masters of it, they didn’t limit themselves to just that. Their lyrics cross over into something that resembles a hybrid of melodic, random spoken word association, or put simply, poetry. Listen closely, and you are exposed to a plethora of stories, images, and emotions, vocalized to a beat. Speaking of beats, I have to take a moment to acknowledge RZA here, Wu-Tang’s founder and main producer. Much of their distinct sound is a product of this one man’s vision, and his ingenuity in bringing all of these individuals together in the first place. He’s admitted to having a number of eclectic influences like 1970s kung fu movies, the game of chess, and Islam (in particular the Five Percent Nation sect born within the New York prison system). This cornucopia of inspiration is evident in his liberal use of sound bites sprinkled throughout swooping, cinematic soundtracks.
A proper listing of the remaining members would require a follow-up piece. Each brought something unique to the collective table through their delivery, lyrical prowess, and presence. In addition, each had numerous branching solo projects where they were allowed to shine mostly alone, alongside features from random fellow Clansmen. Throughout this massive discography, each member would take on a number of personas and aliases suited to the project. This added an interconnected storyline to the group’s encompassing lore. But as a unified group, the sense of brotherhood was palpable and always prevailed. Few groups in music stay together, no matter the genre; money and ego usually disrupts any cohesive creative process. Wu-Tang made it clear from the very beginning that they would all pursue individual careers, while periodically promising to come together for group albums as a whole. In this capacity, they’ve remained a collective unit for thirty years, even now as they prepare for a final world tour together.
I understand Wu-Tang won’t be everybody’s cup of tea; this isn’t meant to convert new fans, or preach on the quality of their music. This is simply an homage from a grateful fan who found meaning in their message when he was still a young boy growing up in South Providence. For those curious to learn more, the Hulu series WuTang: an American saga is a dramatic and highly stylized account of their origin and rise to fame. The documentary Wu-Tang Clan: Of Mics and Men is more informational, and probably more factual. So whether you’re a fan or not, throw your W’s in the air and celebrate the beauty of enduring art, across all mediums. •
