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Double-handed "W" signs rose in the air as clouds of ganja smoke fogged the front of the stage. At half past midnight -- after most audience members had waited more than five hours for the group to hit the stage -- the newly reformed Wu-Tang Clan emerged like a hip-hop S.W.A.T. team, dropping in one at a time, in order of rank.
Street Life was the first rapper to jump up, and his presence raised the crowd's enthusiasm to tropical-storm levels. By the time Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, and Method Man hit the stage -- joined by GZA, Inspecta Deck, Cappadonna, and U-God -- that energy had intensified like a hurricane over warm waters. The only two people who missed the role call were the recently deceased Ol' Dirty Bastard (whose memory was honored throughout the show) and RZA. But, of course, their absence wasn't enough to stop the rest of the Wu from tossing lyrics like Chinese stars.
By the time the smoke cleared, there were at least 30 people on stage, all riding the RZA-produced beats pouring out of Club Revolution's mediocre sound system. It's no surprise that the group rocked the club's rinky-dink speakers; for the past 13 years the Clan has amazed hip hop fans with their uncanny lyrical prowess, setting stunning words to innovative production. That's the formula they started with back in the days when they were selling their music out of car trunks, and they've kept it up to this day. No matter how hip-hop has evolved (or how bad the soundsystem sounds) Wu-Tang Clan always finds a way to thrive.
As the night got going, Method Man leveled a dark rendition of "Bring the Pain" from the first Tical album, Raekwon's dropped "Ice Cream" from instant classic Only Built 4 a Cuban Linx, and Ghostface Killah pounded out "Back Like That," from his new, bangin' album Fishscale.
And, of course, no Wu-Tang show would be complete without women on stage shakin their booties in honor of Ol' Dirty. Indeed, the only sad part of the Wu-Tang saga is the loss of Ol' Dirty Bastard, who rapped remarkably while simultaneously playing the role of hype man. Ol' Dirty's memory was revisited late in the show as Meth brought the late rapper's mother on stage to hear the audience pay tribute to her son as they sang the classic "Shimmy Shimmy Ya."
The question raised by ODB's death was how Wu-Tang's live performance could maintain its integrity without its most controversial personality. I had the privilege of watching ODB live with Wu-Tang nine years ago when the group toured with Rage Against The Machine, and every verse he spit echoed with a fireball of charisma -- he wore his remarkable presence like a badge. Being familiar with ODB's contribution to the live act fueled my skepticism this time around, but after attending this revamped "reunion" tour I was convinced that the Wu-Tang Clan's live show remains as solid as an Iron Flag. After all, whether it's through solo albums, collaborations, or movies, these trailblazers know how to inspire both their fans and their peers.
And there were still plenty of surprises: at one point, the GZA's son flexed his rap muscles alongside Method Man as Raekwon chilled in front of the DJ booth chugging a bottle of Hennessy. The two-hour performance concluded with Wu-Tang Forever's "Triumph." Most of the members got their verses in before the sound system went dead, forcing the audience to finish the song a cappella.
The crowd's high-powered roar, their ability to sing the songs with out any help, are proof positive that the Wu-Tang Clan, like ODB, remains very much alive. ODB's spirit will forever be a part of the Wu, but hip-hop fans will (and should) keep coming to see the group, because, like Ol' Dirty Bastard, they still like it raw.
— 8 September 2006
