While I'm on the subject of music reviews and timeless, influential rap albums, I still have a few weeks before time runs out on the 25th anniversary of Wu-Tang Clan's debut album, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). In my last blog entry, I highlighted House of Pain's debut album as a game-changer. Well, if that one was a game-changer, I'm pretty sure Wu-Tang's debut made the Earth stop spinning for a day or two. I was in the early days of high school when the album dropped in 1993, and when I returned to my hometown for the summer, everyone was going nuts over the freshness and ingenuity of the Wu-Tang Clan. They were the first and only rap group to successfully merge old kung-fu movies with neighborhood violence and modern hip hop.
The 9 members of Wu-Tang Clan, RZA, GZA, Raekwon the Chef, Inspectah Deck, Ghostface Killah, Masta Killa, U-God, Method Man, and Ol' Dirty Bastard, affectionately referred to their own hometown of Staten Island as Shaolin. Shaolin was a staple of the old Shaw Brothers kung-fu flicks the group was raised on, a sacred place far away from the rest of Chinese civilization where true enlightenment and kung-fu styles were often achieved.
RZA essentially created the group, first recruiting his cousins GZA and ODB, hand-picking the other members for the unique styles they could bring to the group. He did this similar to the movie, The Five Venoms, which the group often referenced on their debut album. "Bring Da Ruckus" is the first song on the record, possibly the best encapsulation of the Wu-Tang sound overall, complete with movie clips about the Shaolin and Wu-Tang styles, most of the group members being introduced, and a beat RZA created with a plastic bucket and a microphone. Wu-Tang was genius and innovative in creation, from everything down to their logo, and common kung-fu terms like chambers and swords were metaphorical for the overall message the rappers were trying to relay.
Another highlight on the album is "Da Mystery of Chessboxin'," a highly metaphorical track featuring U-God, Inspectah Deck, Raekwon, Method Man, ODB, Ghostface, and Masta Killa. The song features a sample of traditional Chinese music, and it's the one that initially introduced me to Wu-Tang through the music video. I rushed right out to buy the album and I was literally the only one in my town representing Wu-Tang and its kung-fu prowess meets street slang style. As far as old kung-fu classics, Inspectah Deck represented the municipal policeman who reveals himself in the end (ala The Five Venoms), Method Man represented the disciplined but rough around the edges monk on the hook, ODB represented the drunken master, and Ghostface represented the incognito, slashing style of an assassin.
The group's next single was "C.R.E.A.M," which stood for "Cash Rules Everything Around Me," a look into the group's Shaolin (Staten Island) upbringing. It was undoubtedly the biggest single from the album, and is probably still the most well-known Wu-Tang Clan hit. The song is further filled with homages to their hometown, of course disguised as the legendary kung-fu Mecca, and despite RZA's connection to the 5% Nation of Islam, he and the boys stick close to their street tough narrative and how it might correspond with the cultural traits of the Chinese. They spend time introducing and reintroducing the Clan members on "Clan in Da Front" and in album intermissions, giving us a full view of their diverse, unique rhyming styles.
Method Man was surprisingly the heartthrob of the group, the gruff but somehow silky smooth ruffian, the most frequent hook chanter on the record. His style slightly compliments that of ODB, and like the drunken master of the Wu, his voice is immediately recognizable. He was such a charismatic member of the group that he got his own theme song with the number nine track, "Method Man," and was the first of the Clan to receive a solo record deal. After Enter the Wu-Tang, key members of the Clan branched out for solo efforts, all signing with different record labels while maintaining their initial Wu-Tang deal as a way of dividing and conquering the rap game. Next followed Raekwon, featuring Ghostface Killah, then came Ol' Dirty Bastard, and finally GZA - whose "Liquid Swords" album, produced of course by RZA, is one of my personal favorites.
Wu-Tang Clan have released seven studio albums as a group, and while 2014's A Better Tomorrow comes in at a close second, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) was no doubt their best. There was something about the brander newness of the sound and the concept. There was something about the group's varied styles and approaches to the mic, about their clever ways of associating hip hop references to those of Shaw Brothers kung-fu flicks. There was something about their love for these movies because of the brotherhood of the protagonists who always had each other's back, no matter what. No one member has ever publicly beefed with another, only reuniting year after year to drop new albums, not to mention all the guest spots the members do on each other's solo albums. RZA created something special when he formed Wu-Tang Clan, and their debut album is one that has no doubt left it's mark on American hip hop culture forever.
House of Pain was not the first rap group I was into when I was a teenager, but they were certainly the one that made the biggest impression on me. They were tough and they were Irish street hooligans. They were the Dropkick Murphys of the hip hop game. Their first album was such a success that they inspired later rappers like Slaine, Lordz of Brooklyn, Limp Bizkit, and Atmosphere. HOP came to me toward the end of my freshman year, when I was jamming to Black Sheep, Das EFX, and A Tribe Called Quest. HOP brought something new that I could certainly relate to, being a hip hop junkie suburban white kid.
House of Pain (Everlast, Danny Boy, DJ Lethal) came to us out of the greater Los Angeles area. Their debut album, a self-titled effort, came to me via music video, the one for their first single, "Jump Around." Right after I saw it, I rushed out to buy the cassette, thumping to it day and night in my bedroom in the stead of the car I didn't own yet. The beats were hard, the vocals were tough and gritty, and the musical production was akin to what I'd heard on Cypress Hill's debut album, released two years before. There was good reason for that. DJ Muggs, who currently produces for a mysterious band in the vein of Portishead called Cross My Heart Hope To Die, was the Cypress DJ, and responsible for every composition on that album. Muggs had met Everlast through Cypress front man B-Real, and the Soul Assassins, a collective of three rap groups (Cypress Hill, House of Pain, and Funkdoobiest) was born. Muggs produced tracks for all three groups, digging through his extensive collection of old records to create classic guitar, piecing horn, and old sample-driven beats for all three groups. The screeching horn, the enduring leitmotif that made "Jump Around" what is it, was a concoction of Muggs, making the sound and the song instantly recognizable. Everlast, Danny Boy, Lethal (who produced a handful of tracks on the debut), and Muggs came as a four-man collective to rock an impressive debut that slowly began to top the charts. It was like nothing else released at the time, Celtic staples meshed with Muggs' old Irish pub feel digging in its claws for the long haul. House of Pain helped give me an identity. I owned four of their t-shirts, stickers, hats, records, and cassettes. Suffice it to say, I was a committed super fan.
In the two years between albums, House contributed to the Who's the Man soundtrack, with a hard-hitting, Lethal-produced bruiser appropriately titled "Who's the Man." While the movie was funny but sort of garbage, the track was stellar, with Everlast and Danny Boy painting a brutal picture of their brushes with the law, and their time spent in the pen. HOP also found the time to collaborate with metal band Helmet for the rap meets rock soundtrack of Judgment Night. The House of Pain contribution to the song comes in midway through, Helmet and HOP splitting equal air time on the track. Everlast, whose real name is Erik Schrody, even appeared in the movie as a henchman for fellow Irish mob baddie, Denis Leary.
In early 1994, the group headed back to the studio. I was really into the NBA at the time, and there was a monthly publication called Slam Magazine. I first heard, or saw, the news of their new album in the Spring of 1994 in a full-page ad in the magazine. I remember I went home, tore out the album cover art ad, and quickly posted it on the wall of my bedroom in giddy anticipation of what the group had next in store.
When I went in the record shop that summer to buy the new album, Same As It Ever Was, I saw a poster advertising for it on the shop wall. Everlast had grown out his hair and Danny Boy had dyed his blonde. They looked like a rock band in the guise of impressive rappers, Lethal constantly playing the background role with his Russian/Latvian descent.
The first track is the best on the album. In the two years away from their first album, rumors began to swirl about Everlast's fatal overdosing. On the first track to the new album, he squashed all the false reports with "Back From the Dead," a heavy, thundering, old school horn-driven track in which Everlast was definitely back with a gruffer voice. Muggs again showed crate-digging expertise on the tune, just as he did throughout the entirety of the record. Lethal was still a protege to Muggs and produced tracks on his own like "All That" and "Where I'm From." Muggs' style was still immediately recognizable, boasting old guitar riffs and a roaring horn section. Their first and only single from the album, which was wholly less successful than the debut, was "On Point," a solid video but an ultimately ineffective effort that never could rouse the public like "Jump Around."
After Same As It Ever Was, the group contributed a couple of tracks to a couple of soundtracks, namely "Beef Jerky" to The Jerky Boys movie and "Punch Drunk" to the Eddie movie. Both movies were silly duds, but the tracks were something to look forward to in lieu of an upcoming album, which would certainly drop in 1996. I was reading through a hip hop magazine one day and came across an interview with B-Real from Cypress Hill. I liked Cypress, but I thought maybe since he was part of the Soul Assassins, he might mention something about the new House of Pain record. Boy, did he ever. He mentioned that Everlast and the boys were no longer members of the Soul Assassins. Muggs had kicked them out for Danny Boy's creative direction of dyed hair and leather pants and Harley Davidsons, claiming it wasn't hip hop enough. Just a few year later, Muggs produced guitar-driven tracks for both Cypress and other projects, so I think it was a hasty decision. With Muggs no longer at the helm of production, the task was left up to Lethal on House of Pain's 3rd and final album, Truth Crushed to the Earth Shall Rise Again.
The new album was the group least Irish effort, as they attempted to reach back out to a more hip hop audience, featuring guests like Sadat X from Brand Nubian and Guru from Gangstarr. They brought on the guys they grew up rapping with, their childhood friends, the Scheme Team, featuring Cockney O'Dire and the Divine Styler. While it was a clever gimmick, it was a weak decision in the grand scheme of things, as it was the album that had the least straight up House of Pain feel to it. Regardless, it did have its standout tracks, like "The Have Nots," "Fed Up," and "Pass Jinn." Everlast showcased his conversion to Islam on this one, often referencing his daily struggles with his Jinn, or a Middle Eastern demon who taunts those who've achieved faith in the religion.
The group gave their best effort, but they just weren't the House of Pain we all knew and loved anymore. Everlast had changed himself to reach a new audience, Danny Boy was often messed up on drugs, appearing on only two songs on the record, and Lethal, while he had shown us that there was life after Muggs and that he'd become a capable producer, lacked that special punch that made "Jump Around" what it was. Lethal was the first to find success after the official break-up of House of Pain, when he joined nu metal outfit Limp Bizkit as their DJ. Limp get a lot of flack, mainly because of the exploits of front man Fred Durst, but their debut album was stellar, with Lethal proving he belonged.
Everlast picked up a guitar and headed back to the studio under the alias of Whitey Ford, creating a hip hop meets Johnny Cash sort of sound that put him on the map again. His debut album, "Whitey Ford Sings the Blues," also featured several straight hip hop tracks, with "Painkillers" chronicling his heart attack and near-death experience. Everlast was again pioneering a new style, and while I initially bought into it, gone were the days of Irish bar fights and screechy horns. House of Pain and Muggs formed a team and created something irreplaceable on those first two albums. Everlast released several albums in this new genre of music before the he, Danny Boy, and Lethal reunited one more time to create a House of Pain for a new generation.
La Coka Nostra was a group who dropped on the scene in 2004, consisting of Everlast, Danny Boy, Lethal, fellow Irish-American rapper Slaine, and Ill Bill. While I was excited to see a resurgence of the original HOP lineup, I wasn't crazy about the name, as it lent a reference to cocaine - something I felt that the old crew was better than. Whether they indulged or not, it was not the House of Pain I knew. I appreciated the subtle reference to La Cosa Nostra, but Italian and Italian-American organized crime syndicate. I dealt with the other other aspect as well as I could, listening to wild tales of street fights, cash-stacking, and allusions to old school House of Pain. Everlast was back, with a few new members to throw at the crowd of devoted fans. Like most of the House of Pain records, Danny Boy rapped intermittently, focusing mainly on logo design, branding, and distribution.
The members of House of Pain left their impact on the music industry. Everlast was the most successful, the most paramount figure of the group throughout its tenure, going on to solo careers and resurrecting the rap group with a slight twist. To the common hip hop head, House of Pain is synonymous with "Jump Around." If one were to ask how many albums the group put out, there would probably be a lot of shoulder shrugging. They fell further and further into obscurity in the years after the hit single faded, doing what they could in a rap game that they changed forever with their Irish-American street tough style.
You ever hear an album that tells you a short story as you're listening to it? Recently, I've been listening to some of the CDs I still own, and Portishead's self-titled effort had its turn in my changer. Re-listening to it after so many years of hiatus, I noticed new things about the album that I never had before, namely the mood and the sense of duality it possessed. The album is elegant and dastardly in one, painting a picture of the elusive femme on the run, searching the day for a new victim, and spending the night questioning herself and her existence. I'm not sure if that's what Portishead had in mind when they created this 1997 crooner, but we often interpret songs and albums our own way when really listening to them. This is probably more of what the band had in mind than anything else.
The album begins with one of the best tracks, and certainly the most sinister in "Cowboys." Much like Bjork's 1995 hit, "Army of Me," "Cowboys" promises doom and dread upon an unnamed recipient with lines like "But don't despair, this day will be the damnedest day if, oh, you take these things from me." This is like the anthem of the black widow woman of the night, realizing who she is deep down, and daring anyone to stop her. The song has just enough of a cynical sway to set the tone for the tracks to come, which are both often romantic and gloomy in one. The hip hop record scratches that come toward the end make this tune distinctive and unique, a subtle departure from the band's 1994 debut.
Track two, "All Mine," comes in sexy and full of sway, subtle drum machine beats with a tambourine to accompany the snare hit. The track also features a stark and triumphant horn section along with the beats, and a bass line that drives the verse into a silkier direction. The track conjures images of a smoky lounge, a femme fatale exchanging glances with an unsuspecting victim - especially when the guitar enters the piece towards the end of the track. It's sinister and singular, soaring to break the mood of the nearly sweet sway of the song. It's definitely a mood-changer, which to me accentuates the duality of the femme fatale often seen in movie and TV.
"Undenied" is up next. Its melancholy chimes begin immediate and imminently, serving as the precursor for the grainy record effect added to the smooth beat, borrowed from all the best elements of a mid-90s hip hop track. "Undenied" is an unconventional crooner, asking all the important questions like "Where does my heart belong?" The femme has allowed herself to get too close to her victim and is now second-guessing her intentions and her feelings on this track, a calculated decompression of true sentiment. The grainy record effect is excellent, as is the beat, as is the solemnity of the lyrics themselves.
"Half Day Closing" sounds like the morning after, hungover and indifferent, cynical and off-kilter, but somehow smooth enough. The trip hop team of Geoff Barrow and Adrian Utley employed an interesting strategy here with what sounds like an actual drum set, knocking around a clumsy and ad libbed, high hat-heavy beat to match a gritty bass line. Vocalist Beth Gibbons ponders, "In the days, the golden days, when everybody knew what they wanted, they ain't here today." The mood is cynical and nihilistic for sure, pining for the days when things were easier. This song conjures images of sitting by the window on an overcast morning, steaming cup of coffee in hand, blanket strewn around shoulders, pondering what was, and what could have been.
"Over" is gloomy from the start, a lonely, singular acoustic guitar plucking an anthem of doom and nefarious intention. "Oh, this uncertainty is taking me over," croons Gibbons over the heavy blitzkrieg beats, record scratches,and thundering bass line. Towards the end of the track, an electric guitar enters the fray to add to the suspense of the track. I first owned the cassette of this album years and years ago, and "Over" was the last song on the first side - a mood piece designed to wrap up the graying, sinister tone set throughout the first 5 tracks of the album.
The next is "Humming," a relatively benign track that's all about the ghostly wales, the chamber music bass line, and the sticky beats, providing more inner-banter and subtle regret from the unrepented black widow. "It's been so long that I can't explain, it's been so wrong right now, so wrong." She knows that her livelihood is detrimental, but does nothing to stop it, as she's nothing but an elusive creature of habit. Beth Gibbons wears this masquerade disguise well. Every track on the album is either sexy, melancholic, or menacing, which proves that Portishead had a firm grasp on the short story they were attempting to tell back in 1997.
"Mourning Air" is a distant cousin of "Half Day Closing," but conveys a soothing, sadder sound. It's sensual prose hangs over the top of a lukewarm beat, horns and bass adding to the sordid soiree. A lonely guitar comes in toward the end again, a leitmotif constructed by the band in order to tell a story, and to convey a mood. The setting is cold and dismal, unsettling despite the familiar, otherwise warmer elements, creating a dissonance to the unassuming track. It brings a certain chill with it, but not necessarily a comfortable one. "Should I feel a moment with you? To softly whisper I crave nothing else so much?" This seems a testament to the widow slightly falling for her victim, but having a hard time admitting it to herself.
"Seven Months" and "Elysium" are aggressive, menacing bookends between the softer reassurances of "Only You," which shares several commonalities with "All Mine." "Seven Months" is a haunting, malignant reminder that the femme fatale is alive and well, immediately crying "How can I forgive you after all that I've seen? Silently whisper while my heart wants to scream." "Elysium" sounds more like a Wu-Tang or RZA track when it starts, until Beth Gibbons soars in to remind us "You can't decide how I feel, and you can't decide for me." "Only You" is pretty one, another barroom ballad that features the best of trip hop with samples, record scratches, guitar, and effects on its way to belting out that "It's only you who can tear me apart, and it's only you who turn my wooden heart."
The last track, "Western Eyes," is probably my favorite on the album. It gives out a smooth, smoky, piano bar sort of vibe. It makes the most of its minimalist effort because sometimes, less is more. It comes across as indifferent, resigned, with lines delivered in the most listless manner possible. "With western eyes and serpent's breath, we lay our own conscience to rest, but I'm aching at the view, yes, I'm breaking at the seams just like you." The beat is soothing but cold, smooth but prickly, with a lonely piano belting out a composition of solitude. At the end, we're treated to a sample from a scratchy old record sample to the tune of "I feel so cold on hooker and gin...this mess we're in." If that doesn't scream debutantes and debonairs in a smoky lounge somewhere, I don't know what does.
Portishead's self-titled sophomore album is an anthem for the mystery woman of the night, the flashy, elusive, dangerous femme fatale sometimes seen in films like Eye of the Beholder with Ewan McGregor and Ashley Judd. The band's debut album ranks among my top 20, but their second deserves another shot for the flowing, gloomy, and belligerent moods it attempts to, and succeeds at conveying. There is a favorite book of mine, Fake. Liar. Cheat. that I thought about reviewing on this blog. It's antagonist, Claire, is certainly one of these dangerous, mysterious women, with feelings and calculations as wishy-washy as a cat.
Now streaming on Amazon Prime is the sweeping Russian epic, Viking. I've long been looking forward to this one, as it is very unique as far as Norse history goes. Vikings from Norway and Denmark raided and set up settlements in England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Greenland, and Iceland. Vikings from Sweden headed East, trading up and down the Volga River in Russia until they finally made Novgorod, and Kiev, the now capital of the Ukraine, their homes.
Of these early Swedish Vikings was a man named Rurik, a chieftain whom the Eastern Slavic tribes asked to be their leader. From this came the Rurikid Dynasty, which ruled Russia until the early 17th-century. Vladimir I was born of this dynasty. He is the great-grandson of Rurik and the star of Viking. The Viking rulers and their descendants were called the Rus, from which the name Russia and Belarus are derived. In the movie, Vladimir has two half-brothers, Oleg and Yaropolk. Yaropolk wants to rule Novgorod and Kievan Rus himself, so he kills Oleg to become ruler, even though Novgorod was granted to Vladimir by his father. In the movie, Oleg's death seems accidental, or at least one in which Yarolpolk isn't responsible for. In any case, Yaropolk is painted as the bad guy, the usurper, who Vladimir will not stand by and watch become Grand Duke of both capitals.
Vladimir is meanwhile banished to Sweden, where he still has cousins. With the help of Viking chieftain, Khevding, Vladimir assembles an army of Viking mercenaries to strike back at Yaropolk and take back Novgorod and Kiev.
Up to this point, we sort of see Vladimir as a hero, a gallant warrior who commands a loyal army of Vikings, even when he confusingly takes his first wife, Rogneda, by force. Yaropolk is seen as the bad guy, who reluctantly agrees to a private meeting with Vladimir. This is when a crew of Vikings emerges from the shadows to stab Yaropolk repeatedly, leaving him bloody and confused and dying. Vladimir seems to feel at least a little remorse for killing his brother, but he is now the undisputed Grand Duke of Novgorod.
Varyazhko, a loyal to soldier to Yaropolk, won't relinquish the crown so easily, as he swears vengeance on Vladimir and army of Vikings. Here is where the lines start to become a little more blurred. What Varyazhko is doing seems legit, and we're forced to look at Vladimir in a new light. Was he right to murder his brother in cold blood, lured in by the promises of a peace treaty? Varyazhko assembles the help of a Turkish nomadic horde, who greatly resemble the Mongols. They are good on their horses, even better with their bows and arrows, and they fight at Varyazhko's side through one battle after another. They are cast as the answer to the Viking army on the other side of the brewing war, which certainly brings to mind the class I took at Wyoming on the Mongol Empire.
Meanwhile, Vladimir wants to take another wife - a wealthy, royal Byzantine princess, and agrees to do the dirty work of the "Romans" as payment for the political and matrimonial alliance. He already has Rogneda, and has long had his eye on Yaropolk's Greek wife, Irina. She is calm, astute and wise, representing Byzantine values in a Slavic-Scandinavian netherworld of grit, mud, and blood.
Vladimir becomes a little more tyrannical with every conquest, and he starts to fall into serious debt to his Viking mercenaries from across the pond. At one point as he's trying to take a city as a favor to the Byzantines, Vladimir has the Viking long ships beached on the top of a rolling hill so they won't be tempted to head home. This is when Varyazhko and the steppe horde attack. When the Vladimir and the Vikings see what's happening, the hill and the valley below quickly become a mud bowl when a downpour strikes. Vladimir and his Norsemen heave the ship from the blocks and course them down the muddy hill toward the waiting nomadic warriors commanded by Varyazhko. This made for quite the epic battle scene, captured here by the director's cameras.
What happens next is what some critics called a bit of Christian propaganda. After reclaiming the last stronghold city held by Varyazhko, Vladimir admires the cathedral, where he is approached by the holy man who guides Irina along in her spiritual walk. This serves a turning point in the history of the Kievan Rus. Vladimir breaks down and cries, confessing and repenting of each and every one of the sins he's committed in reclaiming the lands usurped by his brother. He even has a final fight with on the beach with his best friend and comrade, Rogvolod, over his new conversion, with Vladimir swearing to himself and to God that his killing days are over. He is the first Grand Duke of Novgorod and the Prince of the Kievan Rus to convert to Christianity, and subsequently converts his entire kingdom.
Viking takes us from the wintry hinterland's of Russia to the steppes of Asia Minor to the sunny tributaries of Russia's most renowned rivers. Viking is a sweeping epic, the most expensive movie ever made in the history of Russia. Upon its release, Viking was a major point of contention for Russia and the Ukraine, being that both countries claim their national identity from the exploits and the influence of the Kievan Rus. We even get to see a Viking Berserker in action, a Viking special forces operative, wielding a brutal hammer and a bearskin headdress. He even goes through the pre-battle ritual of drinking a hallucinatory cocktail that fuels the blood rage needed for war. The Viking contingent even encourage Vladimir to take part with them, blurring his vision and muddying his senses.
The battle scenes are bloody and visually popping and the drama is high, with Yaropolk's untimely death coming fast and full of tragedy like a Shakespearean play. The dialogue is hard to follow if you watch it in its original Russian, which I did for the sake of authenticity. There have only been 2 movies made about the Rus, the other being The 13th Warrior. Viking may be a propaganda piece depending on your opinion, but that makes it no less entertaining for a non-partisan Westerner like myself.
While I'm on the subject of music reviews and timeless, influential rap albums, I still have a few weeks before time runs out on the 25th anniversary of Wu-Tang Clan's debut album, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). In my last blog entry, I highlighted House of Pain's debut album as a game-changer. Well, if that one was a game-changer, I'm pretty sure Wu-Tang's debut made the Earth stop spinning for a day or two. I was in the early days of high school when the album dropped in 1993, and when I returned to my hometown for the summer, everyone was going nuts over the freshness and ingenuity of the Wu-Tang Clan. They were the first and only rap group to successfully merge old kung-fu movies with neighborhood violence and modern hip hop.
The 9 members of Wu-Tang Clan, RZA, GZA, Raekwon the Chef, Inspectah Deck, Ghostface Killah, Masta Killa, U-God, Method Man, and Ol' Dirty Bastard, affectionately referred to their own hometown of Staten Island as Shaolin. Shaolin was a staple of the old Shaw Brothers kung-fu flicks the group was raised on, a sacred place far away from the rest of Chinese civilization where true enlightenment and kung-fu styles were often achieved.
RZA essentially created the group, first recruiting his cousins GZA and ODB, hand-picking the other members for the unique styles they could bring to the group. He did this similar to the movie, The Five Venoms, which the group often referenced on their debut album. "Bring Da Ruckus" is the first song on the record, possibly the best encapsulation of the Wu-Tang sound overall, complete with movie clips about the Shaolin and Wu-Tang styles, most of the group members being introduced, and a beat RZA created with a plastic bucket and a microphone. Wu-Tang was genius and innovative in creation, from everything down to their logo, and common kung-fu terms like chambers and swords were metaphorical for the overall message the rappers were trying to relay.
Wu-Tang Clan have released seven studio albums as a group, and while 2014's A Better Tomorrow comes in at a close second, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) was no doubt their best. There was something about the brander newness of the sound and the concept. There was something about the group's varied styles and approaches to the mic, about their clever ways of associating hip hop references to those of Shaw Brothers kung-fu flicks. There was something about their love for these movies because of the brotherhood of the protagonists who always had each other's back, no matter what. No one member has ever publicly beefed with another, only reuniting year after year to drop new albums, not to mention all the guest spots the members do on each other's solo albums. RZA created something special when he formed Wu-Tang Clan, and their debut album is one that has no doubt left it's mark on American hip hop culture forever.
.jpg)
