Wu-Tang Clan proved itself as vital and relevant as ever at the Ogden Theatre on Wednesday. Photos by .
I have felt the presence of greatness. I have been to the depths of the 36 Chambers, and I have returned a changed woman.
As the eight mythical men floated through the fog, dodging the beams of blue and yellow stage lights of the Wednesday night, I stood waiting patiently at their feet. Then, the sound system boomed, and the infamous was exposed, the RZA, the GZA, Ghostface Killah, Raekwon, Masta Killa, U-God, Inspectah Deck and honorary member Cappadonna materialized before my burning eyes.
Opening with “Da Mystery of Chessboxin’,” the imperials came to life, Raekwon, Inspectah Deck and U-God ruling the verses with calm iron fists, channeling Ol’ Dirty Bastard as the group tossed their fallen comrade’s lines back and forth with steady force.
The GZA stood with an uncompromisingly cool look on his smallish face as “Bring Da Ruckus” dropped, finding Ghostface Killa and Raekwon taking on the leadership roles they would uphold for the majority of the show. The RZA’s presence proved deadliest however, as the most handsome member of the Wu hid his telling and deep-set eyes behind thick black sunglasses, commanding the crowd with a smooth and incandescent flow.
Scattering trademark sound clips from the film “Shaolin and Wu Tang” throughout the set, the theater was transformed into a dank, secret bunker where the fabled rulers executed their cunning Wu-Tang style. The patriarchs of ’90s East Coast hip-hop continued to pay tribute to their classic debut, “Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers),” with “Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthin’ ta F’ Wit” and “Protect Ya Neck,” tossing the crowd into an utter frenzy.
Delving into their most recent release, “8 Diagrams,” the RZA rolled out “Life Changes,” his cool upper-hand style holding it down as he stepped to the front, resting his foot the monitors. The Method Man-saturated “C.R.E.A.M.” was flawless minus the absent member, the crowd chanting “cash rules everything around me” in unison with their blessed Wu.
The GZA shined brightly with “Reunited,” stepping to the front calmly, hands in pockets as he delivered his lines, followed by “Careful (Click, Click)” which found the RZA once again in the spotlight. The crowd erupted as the Wu brought a special three-song mini-set tribute to Ol’ Dirty Bastard, the eight members taking jabs at “Shimmy Shimmy Ya,” “Brooklyn Zoo,” and a few lines of “Got Your Money.” Lighters and cell phone screens lit up the air for ODB as the evening began to wind down.
Sewing up the breathless set, the Wu laid out the epic “Triumph,” a track showcasing each member’s distinct style, Cappadonna’s lines molding the spotlight around his daunting figure. The Shaolin generals gave some shout-outs to their own current music and movie projects, and expressed much love to the crowd, endlessly thanking the theater and reaching out to generously shake the hands of audience members.
Once the stage was cleared, the RZA reappeared alone in the dark, feeling that the kinetic energy between the Wu and their followers was still very much alive. He proceeded to relish us with some hypnotizing verses, his soft voice maintaining a heavy grip on our attention as his syllables bounced in prefect time through the music-less air. The audience watched as one of the eight great leaders ended an immaculately executed set.
The Wu-Tang Clan crushed my expectations; few rap shows this year have truly wowed me the way these masters of the craft did. I often leave a hip-hop show feeling deprived and dissed, pissed that a performer is hours late, too drunk or high to perform well, or I find myself irritated that they spent a huge portion of the night perpetuating beef and pimping albums/movies/clothing lines instead of putting on a show.
But the Wu welcomed us into their dynasty’s dungeon, taking our hands and leading us into the murky depths of the 36 Chambers, allowing a top-secret look into what makes them one of the most influential hip-hop cadres of all time.
Simply put, the Wu-Tang Clan are absolutely not ones to be f**ked with.
Bree Davies plays bass in , writes about her obsessions with Iggy Pop and Lil’ Wayne in and repeatedly fakes her own death at . She is also a self-proclaimed addict.
is a Denver photographer and regular contributor to Reverb.
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