Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) – Wu Tang Clan – Released November 9th 1993
The debut album from the Wu Tang Clan, Enter The Wu Tang (36 Chambers), remains one of the most pivotal and inspirational hiphop albums of all time. This post celebrates its 30th anniversary.
2023 has seen many hiphop anniversaries, the first being 50 years ago. That was when, in the summer of 1973 at a party in the Bronx, Jamaican-born DJ Kool Herc put all the ingredients together that gave rise to the music we know today as hiphop.
Ten years later, in 1983, hiphop was finally coming into its own. Suddenly everyone from Herbie Handcock to Malcolm McClaren wanted in.
And while many critics continued to dismiss hiphop as a fad, albums like the eponymous release from Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five and movies like Wildstyle showed the world why hiphop was art.
What followed was hiphop’s second golden age and a wave of innovative New York artists like Run DMC, A Tribe Called Quest, Eric B & Rakim, Public Enemy, De La Soul and Boogie Down Productions.
In 1987 NWA’s Straight Outa Compton broke the streak and saw the west coast ascendant.
Though the LA-based group split soon after, the momentum continued when Ice Cube released his solo debut, AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted, which quickly went platinum.
Not to be outdone by his former bandmate, Dr. Dre’s released his solo debut The Chronic, unleashing a whole new style of hiphop called g funk. It rapidly became one of the biggest selling hiphop albums of all time.
All the while other LA groups like Cypress Hill and The Pharcyde were blasting out of speakers nationwide.
Suddenly New York hiphop seemed redundant, until its saviours came from the most unlikely of places, Staten Island (aka Shaolin).
The arrival of the Clan ushered in hiphop’s third and greatest golden age, swarming like killer bees, forming like Voltron. Each member clicking perfectly into place to form a towering Wu Kaiju that clobbered the west coast titans, reclaiming the hiphop crown for NYC.
30 years later we’re still feeling those shockwaves, still feeling those lyrics and still bumpin’ to RZA’s beats.
Everybody’s talkin’ about the good ole days, the good ole days – so let’s revisit them.
Clan In The Front
Now there were plenty of hiphop supergroups before the Wu, but nothing on that scale.
The Wu Tang weren’t just a crew, they were a Clan and their numbers seemed immense.
They were bigger than Run DMC and Public Enemy combined with a militant stride that made the S1Ws seem like a bunch of mall cops.
It wasn’t enough to just dominate hiphop, the Wu had a plan to dominate the whole planet and out-franchise McDonalds at the same time.
But that’s just the Wu as a unit.
Its collective power stemmed from its growing ranks of some of the hardest stinging soldiers in hiphop. And after 36 Chambers came the solo albums, in an unyielding march towards establishing a Wu world order.
There was Method Man, aka Johnny Blaze, with an unassailable stature for rhyme and for rapture, a distinctive and idiosyncratic tone and cadence all bound together with zigzag glue and infused with his inimitable core philosophy, “roll that shit light that shit smoke it.”
Next, the ODB – Ole Dirty Bastard live and uncut – the ultimate party animal with a Drunken Master flow and no father to his style, vulgar, garrulous and utterly unrestrained. If the Wu were the east coast’s hiphop Avengers, the Ole Dirty Bastard was their Hulk.
On some now you see him, now you don’t shit, up from the 36 Chambers comes the Ghostface Killa, aka Toney Starks, who made it perfectly clear what part he played in the Wu Tang cinematic universe with his debut album, Ironman.
Then there’s Raekwon The Chef, “cookin up some marvellous shit to get your mouth waterin”, not to mention dropping some of the most cold-ass gangster lyrics ever recorded to let the world know that the slums of Shaolin don’t play.
All the while Inspectah Deck sits back in the cut, calm and calculating, waiting for his moment to strike. By which time it’s too late, you were tricked into thinking he’s quiet when, in fact, he makes more noise than heavy metal and you’re left shellshocked, cold-cocked and ears ringing from tinnitus.
Don’t forget U God, with that raw, growling delivery, “uncut like cocaine straight from Bolivia”. He doesn’t get much to do on this album, sadly, but he certainly makes his moment count.
Ditto Masta Killa with the sharp verbal slices, mic terror tactics and chameleon flow.
At the head of the Wu Voltron is GZA, the Genius, the eloquent and tactically minded thinker and mike-wielding shogun assassin.
And finally, the Wu’s Nick Fury, the RZA, the sharpest muthafucker in the whole Clan and the one who devised the plan.
The RZA was the hard-driving musical mastermind who forged the Wu’s path and helped develop its mission and mythology, while also being an ace rapper and one of the best producers in the game.
The result was a raw and uncompromising underground hiphop album which nonetheless enjoyed massive mainstream success.
And thanks to the sounds, samples and symbolism of kung fu classics, it resonated with audiences worldwide. Or to put it another way, “the Wu got somethin’ that everybody want to hear.”
Hiphop was never the same.
Music was never the same.
Indeed the group’s allure extended way beyond hiphop, especially where dance music was concerned, inspiring classic jungle cuts like Dope Style’s “You Must Think First”, as well as being sampled by The Prodigy on tracks like Breath.
While The Chronic paved the way for more classic albums like Doggystyle and G Funk Era, the g funk sound itself always felt like a fad. And any notions of its longevity were swiftly cut down once those Wu Tang swords were unsheathed.
By 1995 gfunk was dead and Wu style was the dominant force – immensely strong and immune to nearly any weapon.
Bring Da Ruckus
36 Chambers album begins with an into from the movie Shaolin Vs Wu Tang, before fading into the title track, Bring Da Ruckus. Ghostface Killah is the first voice we hear on the album, followed by verses from Raekwon, Inspectah Deck and GZA.
This track is dark and it’s raw throwing you headfirst right into the centre of the reverb-heavy Chambers of Shaolin where you’re pummelled by woodblock percussion, crunchy, stuttering samples and rock-hard beats.
It’s like a prize fighter strutting into the ring, the lumbering beat, those strident piano chords, the ruckus hasn’t even begun yet, but it’s about to be brought.
The smouldering charcoal in the forge has turned red, making the steel white hot, any moment now comes that first hammer blow – BLAUW! – and the Wu legend truly begins…
Track 2, Shame On A Nigga, was my strutting song. First time I bought the album this track had me pumped, the tempo matched my step and people just parted like the Red Sea as I walked down the street.
Seriously, it’s hard not to swagger when you hear this track.
Now I’m conscious that this was 30 years ago. There’s a whole generation out there whose introduction to the Wu Tang Clan came via Primark t-shirts.
Not their fault, different generation.
They’re the ones who grew up with Marvel movies instead, who cheered in the cinema when the Avengers finally assembled and whose faces flush with ripples of nostalgic euphoria whenever they rewatch that scene.
I get it.
But for us Gen X hiphop heads it’s all about the east coast hiphop avengers assembling over the RZA’s infectious Syl Johnson loop.
And that first introduction of the ODB before passing on to Method Man – that’s the heroes-banding-together 360-degree epic shot moment right there.
Listening back 30 years on and it still makes my facial capillaries tingle, smiling, nodding, cascades of dopamine flooding through the brain…
I can do this all day.
Clan In da Front starts as a short rollcall for the Wu members (and I’m guessing affiliates) over a distinctly Muggs-style beat while, what I can only describe as “a huge gang of lads” all shout in the background making you wonder, fuck me, how many of these guys are there?
You really feel the full swarm right here.
As the track begins in earnest we’re treated to an infectious piano loop over which GZA gets his time to shine.
7th Chamber, meanwhile, is more of a group effort, which is where the Wu truly comes into its own, that diversity of voices and styles all coming together is what makes this album such a classic.
It starts with the first of several skits on the album with the classic line, “all types of fuckin blood” which, back in the day, we coopted as a catch-all phrase to mean anything offering variety of any description.
“What kinda food they got?”
“All types of fuckin’ food ‘God!”
It works for everything.
Can It Be All So Simple starts off with another skit, reminiscing about the “good ole days”, which then leads into the track itself, a more bumpin’, R&B style joint with a vocal hook via Gladys Knight.
It’s the first proper pairing of the Wu’s dynamic duo, Raekwon and Ghostface Killah, a devastating one-two combo that would produce further hits in the years to come.
Listening back to this track is enough to make me sentimental too, nostalgic for a time when hiphop was all about smart rhymes, phat beats and zero bullshit.
At the end we get an “Intermission”, essentially another skit as the Method Man introduces the various members, what they’re about and the overall Wu methodology, presumably this is taken from a radio interview.
This is still the early days too, don’t forget, so when Method Man says, “we’re trying to make a business out of this”, it was all still 100% theoretical and aspirational.
Except that, contrary to what most people expected, it worked – and how.
Multiple platinum albums, movie soundtracks, a three-season Hulu series, a hugely successful clothing brand – hell, I’m sure I’m a week away before I start seeing ads for Wu Tang xmas jumpers on my socials again.
Right at the halfway point we get a Da Mystery of Chessboxin’. It opens with another sample from the movie Shaolin Vs Wu Tang.
This particular sample, with its distinctive metallic sword swipe sound, has since been sampled countless times by other artists, most notably by the Prodigy on Breath.
U-god opens this track and, though it’s the only proper verse he gets on the album, it’s also one of the 36 Chambers’ most memorable.
Ghostface and ODB both shine on this track too, as does Raewkon, dropping pure gangsta gold with his typical snarling malevolence.
Bookending the track is Masta Killa who, like U-god, gets just one verse and that’s it, but it’s a memorable verse none the less, with ninja precision and stylised chameleon flow.
Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing ta F’ Wit is one of the most infectious hooks ever recorded and this track, in particular, showcases RZA’s skills as both rapper and beatmaker.
I mean, you can go ahead and fuck with the Wu if you want, I’ll just stand here and watch…
Then we get C.R.E.A.M. (Cash Rules Everything Around Me) which sits atop a loop from The Charmels and features Raekwon and Inspectah Deck, both delivering knockout verses while Method Man joins in on the chorus.
The track Method Man starts with another classic skit, it’s basically the Wu sitting around bragging about what torture methods they would use, each trying to out-do one another, “I fuckin’, I fuckin’…”
The noise of the red-hot coat hanger Method Man makes, I fuckin, I fuckin… crack up at this every time.
Honestly though, no matter how dark our dystopian future gets I can face it with the confidence, safe in the knowledge that, if things get really hairy, I can revisit the 36 Chambers and draw inspiration from the Method Man enhanced interrogation playbook.
The track itself is the Method Man’s solo piece, essentially guaranteeing the future sales of his 1994 debut Tical while also giving props to Dr. Seuss and – hey hey hey – Faaaat Albert – another hiphop first near as I can tell.
It finishes off with him coughing uncontrollably… demonstrating the obvious use of method in all of that madness.
Protect Ya Neck features more bumpin beats and some of the best verses on the album, including Inspectah Deck giving shout outs to Joe Fraiser and Spiderman while Raekwon drops “rhymes rugged and built like Schwarzenegger.”
Love it.
It kicks off with another skit with a dude calling into the radio because he wants to hear that new Wu Tang track again.
“Wu Tang again?”
“Again and again!”
Of course we all felt the same.
But then it’s all fun and games until someone gets shot. (I think it’s meant to be U God on this skit, not 100% but it sounds about right – poor ole U God, barely ten lines and two skits and gets shot in the second one.)
After the laughter comes Tearz, featuring RZA and Ghostface Killah and with a beat and hook via Wendy Rene.
The album closes with Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber – Part II, a remix of the earlier track dropping some fuzzy synth bass over the classic “Make it funky” break.
Although we’ve heard these rhymes already, the new musical backing is enough to make it sound fresh while giving us one last chance to hear all the main members.
It’s the perfect way to end the album, really, bringing us back full circle.
At which point I always want to just flip it over and play it again.
“Again?”
Again and Again!
I will never tire of this album.
Everything about it is perfection; music and lyrics in perfect equilibrium, espousing cold-hearted street thuggery one minute, switching to playful, fun-loving camaraderie the next.
And let’s not forget those brilliant skits and interview snippets either, which me and my mates have been quoting (and misquoting) for three decades and counting.
Snoop Dogg popping Sam Snead in a nightclub happened in some sunny, faraway fantasy land full of Cadillacs, palm trees and guns. But a bunch of guys sitting around cracking jokes and talking shit, that’s universal.
We pretty much imprinted on this as kids as though we were right there in the room with them, feeling like part of the extended Wu family.
West coast gangster rap felt like Hollywood, while 36 Chambers felt like a fly on the wall documentary.
It was grounded in reality but effortlessly creative and hugely aspirational, empowered by Shaolin slum mysticism, fuelled by both method and madness, and, of course, all the kung fu crazy glue holding that shit together.
There’s never been anything like it, before or since.
Fact is, I’ve been waiting three decades for something to top it, but nothing ever has. The Wu remains undefeated.
36 Chambers, therefore, remains my favourite hiphop album of all time.
I’ve spent years dissecting it, studying each line in-depth like it’s the Staten-slang Rosetta Stone. I listen again, and again and again, in my efforts to understand the cryptic messages of a fellow island clan some 5,000km west of mine.
30 years on I’m still learning new things, still hearing new things, still decoding the beats, still enthralled by the Wu cipher and the mysteries of shadowboxing.
Sure, I can put on some other 90s hiphop albums and feel nostalgia for “back in the day.”
Whereas the Wu still sounds like right now.
Actually scratch that, it sounds better than now, since there’s no shitty trap beats, crickedy high hat fills or grimy mandem bollocks, who needs that shit anyway when you can crank the bass and bring the fuckin’ ruckus?
Proper.Fucking.Hiphop.