by Damian Garde
Daily Lobo
It's hard to explain the Wu-Tang Clan.
Nine African-Americans obsessed with Chinese culture, Italian mafia lore and the blaxploitation films of the '70s don't exactly scream mainstream
acceptance.
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The original members, RZA, GZA, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Method Man, Ghostface Killah, Raekwon, U-God, Inspectah Deck and Masta Killa, made their debut in 1993 with Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). At a time when hip-hop was stilted with Dr. Dre's increasingly bland G-funk sound, the Wu brought a gritty, soul-inflected production style to the genre's ailing
landscape.
Surely, nine MCs are considerably above the memorization skills of the average radio listener. However, the Wu had no trouble sticking in the minds of fans, as each MC possesses a distinct style. Whether it's Method Man's
half-sung wordplay, GZA's deft metaphors or Ghostface's rapid-fire delivery, recurrence has never been an issue for the Clan.
While the '90s saw the Wu rise to unprecedented heights for a hip-hop group - it even had a video game - the Clan witnessed a drop in popularity in the new millennium. With the rise of crunk and other euphemisms for southerners groaning over Devo-on-downers synths, the Wu's brand of street poetry and grimy production became increasingly alien to the mainstream.
Unfazed, the Clan retreated to the underground, with GZA releasing steady product under Babygrande Records and Masta Killa signing to indie-heavyweight Nature Sounds. The Clan seemed to have resigned to the role of exiled elder statesmen of hip-hop. Mainstream acts like Ludacris and Kanye West cited the Wu as an influence to their styles, but the platinum sales of the past continued to elude
the Clan.
However, the past two years have seen the Wu poised for resurgence. Beginning with RZA's high-profile role in scoring Quentin Tarantino's "Kill Bill: Vol. 1" and leading up to the surprise commercial success of Ghostface's 2006 release, Fishscale, public interest in the Wu is at its highest since 1997. Masta Killa's No Said Date received rave reviews, while GZA's collaboration with DJ Muggs topped many year-end lists in 2005. Method Man's latest debuted at No. 8 on the Billboard chart, despite little promotion from Def Jam Recordings. Raekwon is set to release the sequel to his 1995 mafioso-rap masterpiece, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, spawning incessant chatter from basement-dwelling bloggers and rap nerds worldwide.
Seemingly encouraged by the renewed public interest, RZA recently reported that the entire Clan is slated to regroup for its fifth release.
There could hardly be a better time as, in its current state, hip-hop is nearing self-parody. Rick Ross achieved gold status with his single, "Hustlin,'" a song whose standout lyric is, "Whip it real hard. Whip it. Whip it real hard." D4L gained national attention with the song "Laffy Taffy," which sounds like a four-year-old's concoction on a Playskool keyboard. Even Lupe Fiasco, championed by Jay-Z as the greatest MC since, well, Jay-Z, turned out to be less than stunning. Fiasco tendered only "Kick, Push," a banal song that invents "skate-rap," perhaps the only genre less interesting than "emo-hop."
In light of mainstream hip-hop's latest follies, you can put off that shiny new Paul Wall disc for next month. Lil' Wayne will be just fine if you don't buy his latest yawn-inducing escapade. Instead, buy Wu-Tang.
