by Damian Garde
Daily Lobo
I used to hate on crotchety old music fans who swore by their dusty LPs from yesteryear and railed against anything the pizza-faced mall rats were feeling.
That is, until I became one.
I've loved the Wu-Tang Clan ever since I saw the "Triumph" music video on The Box in the fifth grade. I used to say Wu-Tang was the Beatles of hip-hop, but now I feel more comfortable saying the Beatles are the Wu of rock 'n' roll. Rap radio may be insulting, and MTV may churn out drivel on the daily, but Wu-Tang, as they say, is forever. Through all the solo projects, group infighting and forgettable albums by an army of protÇgÇes, the Clan has been in permanent rotation on my tape players, car stereos and iPods.
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So, of course, when I found out the Wu was coming to something called the Santa Fe Muzik Fest, I was more than willing to shell out $65 and deal with people made of hemp and dreadlocks just to see the Clan in my home state.
With the Wu's famous unpredictable temperament and the widely acknowledged anonymity of New Mexico, I was skeptical they would all show up. I halfway expected to buy a ticket and find U-God rapping into a karaoke machine. But sure enough, everyone came through but Method Man. However, I forgave his absence, seeing as how I'm not sure he can leave New York after his May drug arrest.
Undeterred by the lack of their most famous member, the men of Wu tore through songs old and new, and unlike when I saw them in Chicago, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Cappadonna crawled onto the stage's catwalk to serenade the French vanillas, butter pecans and chocolate deluxes with his "Ice Cream" verse, all the while grinning through his gold fronts. Ghostface was in rare form, dancing up and down the catwalk and throwing towels, wristbands and water into the crowd. Even RZA eased up on his trademark
intensity to say the Sangre de Cristo Mountains were secretly pyramids covered in dirt. But then again, maybe he wasn't joking.
The most memorable moment of the evening came as the clansmen memorialized Ol' Dirty Bastard, who died in 2004. RZA brought ODB's oldest son onstage to lead the crowd through "Shimmy Shimmy Ya," confirming what Ol' Dirty once said while interrupting Shawn Colvin's Grammy acceptance speech: "Wu-Tang is for the children." Watching the crowd's response, I realized there is no greater pleasure than seeing hundreds of patchouli-drenched Santa Feans chant, "Ooh, baby, I like it raw."
The Wu's new album, 8 Diagrams, is slated for an early October release, and the clansmen say it's going to bring back the commercial success of the late '90s. But even if it doesn't and the Clan fades into obscurity, I'll still shell out another $65 to hear the Wu tear through "C.R.E.A.M." on the casino circuit.
