- One freak’s commentary on one song a week -

Ok. So this one’s kind of a two-for-one. And in the end, I guess it’s kind of like a seven-for-one. But that’s aight. No rules.

So when I wrote about Outkast’s Aquemeni a couple of weeks ago I forgot to mention that I am not only the son of Andre and Big Boi’s hip-hop, but I am also the son of an entire other, well, Clan of rhymers—if you will. These innovative rappers made me shockingly aware of my whiteness and therefore boringness. They began to make me conscious of some of my coddled misconceptions of reality. When they rapped I pictured the inside of what I believed every tenement building in this country looked like (from the safety of my suburban popizon chair). They kind of scared me, but also invigorated me. I heard their struggles and the injustices they faced and then I heard a resounding, “FUCK YOU!!!” There I was, in that same bedroom where I listened to Weezer and Radiohead, pacing around, sloppily reciting their lyrics and doing my best to drop some hood swagger. It’s a strange phenomenon that a lot of middle-class suburban kids experience—embracing rap music and imitating stereotypes, without realizing what it is they’re really doing. It’s still funny when I think about those years with the Wu-Tang Clan pounding through my crappy Koss headphones. I sort of imagine the Brady Bunch squares and the faces of the RZA, the GZA, the Ghostface Killah, etc., popping up around the sides and then my baby-face, innocent and naïve as a blue-ribbon lamb, appearing in the middle. I’m Alice. I imagine the Wu would probably all look inward at me and be like, “what the fuck?!”

When you’re a kid, it’s not about much more than the music. At fifteen I wasn’t expending a ton of my energy thinking about social injustice or my membership in the culture of oppression that the Wu-Tang and their communities were struggling against. Nah, it was mostly about the beats then. Wu-Tang was loud, aggressive, cocky and dangerous. They cursed a lot and talked about violence and they scared the shit out of my parents. What teenage boy doesn’t love music like that? It wasn’t until my college years that I realized just how patient, subtle and evoking the RZA’s beats were. It wasn’t until my older years that I came to appreciate the honest, story-telling nature of the Wu’s rappers. Eight guys, spitting around a barrel fire underneath the Varizana; each one of them unique, but innately linked; each one of them confident yet generous, rather than overbearing.

If you lived in the Northeast in 1994, Enter the Wu-Tang: 36 Chambers was everything that Northeastern rap should sound like. Cold beats, the majority dug from crates of obscure Soul and Motown by the RZA; angry, honest and socially cognizant lyrics; Kung-Fu lore—borrowing their name and sound bytes from such grainy greats as Shaolin & Wu-Tang, The Tigers From Kwangtung, Five Deadly Venoms and The Four Assassins; skits that sounded like they were taped in dingy New York apartment buildings—you could almost hear the vermin scratching behind the walls; language that was filthy and violent: “I pointed a gat at his mother’s knot/gunshot, gunshot, gunshot.” Wow. But there were also a bevy of insightful moments. “Though I don’t know why I chose to smoke sess/I guess that’s the time when I’m not depressed/but I’m still depressed/and I ask what’s it worth?” The album relied heavily on RZA’s genius, but also could not have functioned without the effort of the whole. As Method Man pointedly explained in figurative terms, “Let’s put it this way, we form like Voltron.” A group of soon-to-be-rap-stars that came up together and made a completely unselfish and poignant album.

In the past, if I had to pick one track off of 36 Chambers it would have been “Protect Ya Neck.” I remember not even flinching as I counted out thirty dollars for the vinyl single which came in a sleeve that looked like Inspectah Deck had doodled the design for while heavily blunted (an aside—I met the guy who is Inspectah Deck’s and U-God’s dentist out in Queens. Apparently they have excellent oral hygiene!). However, my song selection for this week is not only tied to the Wu-Tang original, but also a funky cover which ultimately led to my remembrance of how much I loved this album.

The El Michels Affair is a Brooklyn-based funk/soul/jazz band that released an album called Enter the 37th Chamber about a month ago. As you can guess by its name, the album is an homage to the Wu, with whom they were hand-picked to play a number of concerts with (including a Raekwon tour dating back to 2005). Selecting gems from the Clan’s albums and some tracks from member’s solo careers (i.e. Ghostface’s “Cherez La Ghost” and ODB’s “Shimmy Shimmy Ya”) the funksters mellow through 15 Wu-Tang tracks. They leave the spirit of each song in tact for the most part, while re-conjuring its image in their own groovy terms.

The album meanders through some good and bad moments, but delivers a brilliant interpretation of the 36 Chambers track “Can It Be All So Simple.” Twice, maybe three times a year, I get drunk enough to freestyle rap outside the comfort of my bedroom. It’s slow, steady, not very good, and generally spurred in that moment just before I’m about to have the drink that will make me black out. When I heard this instrumental remake, I had to hit repeat. Within a listen or two I began freestyling without the aide of any alcohol. It’s just that kind of song… mellow, groovy and neck-bobbing. Lightened up a bit by The Affair, their version of  “Can It Be” floats on a drifting harpsichord rift and between the beat of Bossa Nova rhythm sticks. Ten minutes later I had 36 Chambers on and I was cold-vibing with my second favorite track on the album. So the choice was not based purely on the Wu, but also on the best El Michels Affair cover.

Normally a story or something would follow here (in fact, I tried to write down one of my raps, but it was simply way too embarrassing to publish). However, I feel I’ve ranted quite enough about this week’s songs, so I just decided to leave you with more songs.

As an amateur DJ, I am obsessed with samples and break beats. There are few who rival the ingenious ear of Wu-Tang’s RZA. The RZA comes from all sorts of angles and puts so much time into his craft that he always leaves behind impeccable beats, often unrecognizable from their originals. He is truly one of the best DJs/producers in rap music ever. So, I thought I would leave you with 5 of my favorite RZA samples from 36 Chambers. More can be found on Shaolin Soul Vol. 1-2 on which compilations of many of the RZA’s greatest samples are collected. So enjooooy:

In Honor, 5 of the RZA’s 36 Chambers samples:

1. Syl Johnson – Different Strokes (Shame on a Nigga)
2. The Charmels – As Long As I’ve Got You (C.R.E.A.M.)
3. Hall & Oates – Method of Modern Love (Method Man)
4. Gladys Knight & The Pips – The Way We Were (Can It Be All So Simple)
5. Wendy Rene – After Laughter Comes Tears (Tearz)