In the late 90s and 2000s, homogenized radio playlists began to stifle the variety of mainstream hip-hop.Īlmost any act whose sound was considered inaccessible became relegated to the underground, which undermined the dynamism of hip-hop that made people love it in the ’90s. In today’s streaming market, an act releasing avant-garde music like the Wu can sidestep traditional media/radio platforms and achieve respectable notoriety, but there was a point for years where that wasn’t easily the case. Even in the ’90s, 36 Chambers’ dusty sound was an acquired taste - but millions of fans came to love it. RZA and the Wu were rewarded for their bold sound, but it wasn’t an overnight thing. 36 Chambers was composed of RZA experimenting and refining the blueprint that would mark him as a production stalwart for over a decade. The sample had to be pitched, chopped, then mixed-and-matched with other samples in a thrilling sonic gumbo. For the best producers, it wasn’t enough to merely loop a sample. That kind of production ingenuity is what made 90s rap production so brilliant.
He figured out how to fully maestro, from ordering each artist’s vocals a certain way to making special breaks in Method Man’s part of the beat in order to bolster Meth’s already dynamic flow. He wasn’t interested in mimicking what worked for Tribe or Big Daddy Kane, he explored his own mastery of his beat machines. After having modest industry success, he went back to the drawing board as a producer and set out to develop his own sound. RZA spearheaded their movement masterfully. Time doesn’t exist, but Wu-Tang is forever. It’s why I’ve always treasured ’90s music instead of feeling an arbitrary need to “move on” or retrospectively kill the sacred cows as modern rap writers love to do. There will never be another rapper like Ghostface Killah or Raekwon The Chef. It’s very likely that we’ll never see a nine-man coalition of imaginative, talented, charismatic rappers that powerful again. When people bemoan the state of modern mainstream rap, it’s often unsaid that maybe we were just spoiled by acts like the Wu. RZA asked each man, who was either fledgling in the industry like him or in the streets, to give him a year of their life to craft 36 Chambers. Inspectah Deck is one of the most underrated rhymers in rap history, and U-God and Masta Killa both had scene-stealing moments throughout the Wu-Tang catalog. There was the mastery of flow and mass appeal that Method Man delivered, the cerebral eloquence of GZA, the free-associative narratives of Ghost and Raekwon, and ODB, the ultimate wild card in hip-hop history. Each artist had their own flair that made them a unique asset to the Wu-Tang chessboard. Dre’s formula with N.W.A, RZA had assembled a supergroup of the best MCs in New York’s forgotten Staten Island borough and let them tear his beats to pieces each night in the studio. They were a cue to let the listener know they were listening in on a fight on each record. 36 Chambers eschewed radio-friendly mixing for a murky soundscape of quaking, dusty kick drums and piercing snares serving as the foundation for a rollercoaster ride of menacing basslines, gloomy jazz and soul loops, and of course, those classic, song-anchoring vocal clips from Kung Fu flicks. The album, which was entirely produced by RZA, was as frenetic as New Jack Swing and informed by the sample layering techniques of RZA’s peers Prince Paul and Q-Tip, but for the most part, he concocted his own sinister formula at Staten Island’s Firehouse Studios. The Wu’s breakout single, “Protect Ya Neck,” was the antithesis of those polished soundscapes, as was the rest of 36 Chambers.
Dre’s G-Funk sound, the Teddy Riley-popularized New Jack Swing, and the feel-good stylings of Native Tongues collective acts such as De La Soul and A Tribe Called Quest. In the early ‘90s, hip-hop music was defined in part by Dr. Their love for the Golden Era can be explained through the tremendous impact of the Wu. People don’t swear by ‘90s hip-hop as a mere nostalgic talking point. The album’s one of a kind conception, and the ascendance that followed it exemplifies the power of hip-hop’s early-to-mid-1990s Golden Era. Friday marks the 25th anniversary of Wu-Tang Clan’s Enter The 36 Chambers, a sword-slashing, ominous epic that carved a left-field path for every hip-hop iconoclast to follow.