Happy 20th Anniversary to Wu-Tang Clan’s third studio album The W, originally released November 21, 2000.
Towards the end of “Bells of War” from Wu-Tang Clan’s double album Wu-Tang Forever (1997), Robert “RZA” Diggs prophesizes the return of the group in the year 2000. “We gonna bring a comet!” he proclaims. “Check for that shit in the millennium!” Indeed, the group delivered on its promise with the release of The W, 20 years ago. Like their previous two albums, it was very much an event, complete with a considerable amount of hype, along with an abundance of anticipation from their fans. Their core audience were hoping for a return form, as the Clan was looking to recapture its mojo.
The W was released at the tail-end of a tumultuous three years for the Wu-Tang Clan. As I wrote about in my tribute to Wu-Tang Forever, their previous release was a commercial and critical success, but the crew did not end up becoming the standard bearers that led hip-hop into the mainstream. Rather, their shine was usurped by Puff Daddy and Bad Boy, as millions of fans began to favor shiny-suit rap built around recognizable samples and catchy hooks.
Furthermore, the release of Wu-Tang Forever was followed by a disastrous summer/fall 1997 tour opening up for Rage Against the Machine. Their brief run on the circuit was marked by absences, in-fighting, and riots. The group left the tour midway and The Roots took their place.
Things were also fairly bumpy on the musical ends, as the members of the group continued to release solo albums, some their debuts, some their sophomore efforts, as the late ’90s progressed. Though this period saw some underappreciated gems, like GZA’s Beneath the Surface (1999) and Inspectah Deck’s Uncontrolled Substance (1998), there were a few certified stinkers, such as Raekwon’s Immobilarity (1999) and U-God’s Golden Arms Redemption (1999).
One thing that characterized this period was a further reduced presence of RZA. Though he was nominally the executive producer of many of these albums, he wasn’t working behind the boards very often. RZA had been the production mastermind for the majority of the crew’s earliest and most successful solo releases, and without him, some of these same emcees struggled to find a cohesive sound.
Things started to go back on the upswing for the Clan by the beginning of 2000. The first big step was the release of Ghostface Killah’s Supreme Clientele, arguably the best Wu-related album ever. Later that spring, Jim Jarmusch’s Ghost Dog film hit the screens, featuring a RZA-produced soundtrack. Somewhere in between, the members of The Clan reunited to record an album.
Their third release doesn’t possess the impact of Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) (1993) or the ambition of Wu-Tang Forever, but it mostly works. In a hip-hop landscape that had rapidly changed since their previous time in the spotlight, the Wu remained true to their spirit and didn’t follow trends. It’s not their strongest effort, but it at least sounds like a Wu-Tang Clan album.
In contrast to the sprawling Wu-Tang Forever, The W adopts a back-to-basics approach. The album hosts 13 tracks, all but one of them produced by RZA. Some channel the dusty Wu-Tang sound, while others are dark and experimental in their own unique ways. Lyrically, much of the heavy-lifting is handled by stalwarts like Method Man, Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, and Inspectah Deck, all of whom appear on around half of the songs on the album. GZA, U-God, and Masta Killa are all present as well, but are generally used sparingly.
The W isn’t always perfect, as some attempts at recreating their old magic are home runs, while others fall short. The album successfully provides a balance of vintage Wu-Tang material and strange and experimental undertakings, many of which succeed. I could again paper this tribute with great lyrics from the album, showing that, by and large, the Clan’s swords remain sharp, and they bring out the best in each other as emcees.
The W starts off strong, successfully capturing the feel of Enter the Wu-Tang right out of the gate. “Chamber Music” sounds like an updated version of the types of tracks the group crafted back on their debut. The militaristic drum track rattles away, augmented by strings and vocals incorporated from various obscure Hong-Kong flicks. Raekwon, GZA, Method Man, and Masta Killa each shine on the track in their own ways, their unique styles meshing together effortlessly. Meth stands tall as he raps, “Hold my mic sideways when busting / On Judgment Day running through Hell, yelling and cussing.”
“Careful (Click, Click)” is one of Wu-Tang’s darkest recordings, as it feels like a proper soundtrack for dank project hallways and abandoned buildings. Amidst muffled strings and horns, the ambient sounds of water dripping, and vocals lifted from Kung-Fu flicks, members of the crew creep across the track. The box-cutter wielding Ghostface unleashes a verse of nearly impenetrable slang, but as always, he sounds like flyest man on the planet when the words leave his mouth. “Climb like the deficit, profits, death threats to Israel slid through Bethlehem bong on one wheel,” he flows.
“Hollow Bones” has the feel of a stripped-down version of “Can It All Be So Simple” or GZA’s “Cold World.” RZA builds a track using the spare guitar licks, wails, and vocals from Syl Johnson’s “Is It Because I’m Black?” while Raekwon, Deck, and Ghostface all describe tales of engaging in various forms of crime, while conveying a sense of sorrow over the pointlessness of it all.
The Clan all band together on “Protect Ya Neck (The Jump-Off),” The W’s first single, which features the eight non-incarcerated core members and Cappadonna. It obviously directly invokes the first single by the group, harkening back to their earlier days while attempting to showcase their growth as artists. RZA put together a high energy and suitably dusty track, complementing samples from a few Albert King songs with piercing strings. However, about two-thirds of the way through, it undergoes one of the most awkward beat changes in my memory. Even with the bumpy transition, all nine emcees sound inspired, from Deck’s slick opening verse, to RZA’s clipped exclamations, to GZA’s track-themed closing masterpiece.
“Gravel Pit,” the album’s second single, doesn’t quite work as well. It’s another upbeat entry, with Method Man, U-God, and Ghostface all coming correct over a track that sounds lifted from the score of a French James Bond knock-off (I mean that in a good way). The song suffers due to its out-of-place R&B vocalists on the hook, while Meth channels Cameo’s “Back and Forth.” Fans also didn’t appreciate the video, which depicted the crew flossing in the prehistoric age, but taking the time to battle ninjas.
“I Can’t Go To Sleep,” The W’s third single, is the album’s oddest entry, mostly due to its musical backdrop. Here, both Ghostface and RZA rap over about the first minute of Isaac Hayes’ version of “Walk On By.” It’s an interesting choice, as few would attempt to rap over the song’s extended opening orchestral strings, which gradually builds to a crescendo. Both emcees make it work, even though they lay things on pretty thick.
Regardless, you can hear the tangible emotion in the voices of Ghostface and RZA, as they describe working to survive the emotional fatigue associated with being Black in the United States and growing up amidst poverty. Nearly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of death that surrounds him, RZA raps, “They got me trapped up in a metal gate, just stressed out with hate / And just give me no time to relax and use my mind to meditate.” Isaac Hayes himself also appears on the song, crooning during the song’s chorus in muted tones, imploring the characters in the song to “Get the jelly out your spine / Cobwebs out of your mind.”
Masta Killa contributes The W’s only solo cut on “One Blood Under W.” It’s strange to think that more than seven years after his first appearance on “Da Mystery of Chessboxin’,” Masta Killa was still somewhat of a, well, mystery to most fans. He’d delivered some dope verses on both previous Wu-Tang albums and acquitted himself well on his guest appearances on projects by other Clan members and affiliates, but “One Blood” is the first time he really received any sort of showcase, and he indeed rises to the occasion.
“One Blood” is a reggae/dancehall flavored jam, featuring the talents of Junior Reid. “One Blood” was the name of Reid’s biggest hit, and here he re-recites that track’s hook and some of the lyrics. But Masta Killa is still the star of song, unleashing two syllable-bending verses. He travels the streets of Shao-Lin, on the lookout for police and other enemies, while throwing in a dis to 50 Cent in defense of the rest of the Clan’s honor (“Fuck fame, I shoot a hole in a 50-cent piece to test my aim / How dare you call the Gods in vain?”). He continues to flex his skills throughout the track, boasting, “A bomb only has one time to explode / When I break, I'm takin everything, turn the city streets to Dusty Rhodes.”
It’s surprising just how many guest artists appear on The W. Wu-Tang Clan’s previous albums were notable for their lack of outside features; they’re far more insular affairs populated by members of the Clan and they’re direct disciples. For The W, the Clan mostly collaborate with longtime friends and allies who were no strangers to recording with members of the crew.
Redman shows up to drop a verse on “Redbull.” The Newark, NJ native had of course recorded an entire album with Method Man (1999’s Blackout!), noted for its boisterousness. But this entry is a relatively low-key affair, with the Funk Doc joining Meth and Inspectah Deck in rapping a subtly complex drum-track and muted synthesizers. Nas later drops an extremely strong verse on “Let My N****s Live,” behind only “Be Careful” as The W’s most menacing entry. Over a sinister bassline and percussion, he joins Raekwon and Deck to paint a vivid picture of crime and urban decay. He visualizes the sense of desperation and anger with his words, rapping, “Drop on the window pane, the oxygen is cocaine / It drove lots of men to die with no name.”
“Conditioner” hosts the one and only appearance of Russell “Ol’ Dirty Bastard” Jones throughout all of The W. Dirt Dog spent much of the late 1990s in legal troubles and incarcerated. He was literally on the lam when The W was released, having escaped from a court-mandated drug treatment facility. All of which doesn’t make “Conditioner,” ODB’s duet with Snoop Dogg, a particularly good song. It comes across as seemingly thrown together, as it sounds like both emcees freestyled their verses, while the piano-based beat is half-mixed. Reportedly, ODB’s vocals sound muffled because they were recorded from over the phone while he was in jail, so I’m willing to grant that there were some extenuating circumstances hampering the song’s quality. But this really should have been left on the cutting room floor. As it would work out, this would be ODB’s last appearance on a Wu-Tang Clan album.
“The Monument” features an exuberant opening verse by Busta Rhymes, who promises off the rip that he’ll “straight smack a n***a right in the face like this was handball / I’ll make a mural out his face up on a damn wall.” Still, The GZA is the star of the brief track. One drawback of The W is that it features comparatively little of the Wu-Tang’s unofficial head of Voltron; the Genius contributes four total verses on the album, one of which is a freestyle tacked onto the end of “Conditioner.” But GZA delivers my favorite verse on The W here, conjuring his unique verbal sorcery. “I zoom in, while the listeners tune in,” he raps. “Some assuming they paid dues and joined the union / Lost n***a couldn’t rumble in this wild jungle / Quick to crumble, type to be on the stand and fumble.”
The W was a reasonable commercial success, going Platinum during a period when the Clan had been out of the spotlight for a while. It also set-up the release of the follow-up Iron Flag a little over a year later. It’s never been clear whether material from both albums was recorded during the same sessions, but Iron Flag was seen as a more accessible counterpoint to The W’s overall brooding feel.
The W served its purpose as a necessary recalibration after a period of difficulty for the group. Though Wu-Tang never quite re-achieved their mid-1990s level of dominance, The W showed that they were ready to at least attempt to dominate hip-hop music during the new millennium. The album wasn’t a great leap forward, but it showed that they still meant business, and that they would always maintain a loyal following.
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