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Before I jump back into serious mode, I thought I’d take a minute to commemorate an important milestone in my personal history, and pay heed to one of the greatest rap groups (if not overall music groups) of all time–that being the WU-TANG CLAN.

See, for those who don’t know, I have had an obsessive devotion to the Wu that borders on the unhealthy for many years now. Their first CD (”Enter the 36 Chambers”) came out my freshman year of college, and the second (”Forever”) came out my senior year, bookending my experience perfectly. In between, I devoured all the solo tapes (Meth’s “Tical,” Raekwon’s “Cuban Linx,” Ghost’s “Ironman,” etc.), watched all the videos whenever and wherever I could, and read every bit of printed material I could find on Shaolin’s finest.

I was already a big hip-hop fan for several years. For a white middle-class kid from Jersey, hip-hop was the music of rebellion, of danger, of a whole new world outside the quiet suburbs. But what made the WTC so awesome was that they incorporated so many elements of things I liked–kung fu flicks, John Woo bullet ballet dialogue, comic book heroes, and crazy grindhouse Saturday afternoon matinees. The Wu, to me, was the first geek hip-hop group, long before backpackers and hipster rap, and no one’s been able to take their throne, though many have tried. (I think Company Flow came the closest, and El-P is probably the only hip-hop artist today who can hold the Wu’s jock, as far as I’m concerned.)

Plus, on any level, the Wu set a standard for lyricism, musical proficiency, and creativity that few people have attained. Every single member of the Clan brought a dedication to intelligent lyrics that were more than just rhyming the last word of one bar with the last word of the next. I would listen to the tapes and CDs over and over again, deciphering every hidden meaning and puzzling reference I could. Try doing that with Li’l Wayne or Soulja Boy, I dare you.

Yet I never was able to see them live, and after poor OI’ Dirty Bastard passed on, I feared I never would. Until last night, when they played a New Year’s Day show at DC’s venerable 9:30 club, which I attended.
This concert was significant to me for several reasons:

• It was the first concert of the New Year.
• It’s the last concert I’ll be seeing in DC before I move. The 9:30 Club has hosted many awesome shows for me over the years since I moved here, from KMFDM (3 times) to Ministry (2 times) to Saliva to Disturbed, and seeing the Wu is as good a capper as I could’ve asked for.
• It may be the last time the Wu tours in its current form. The guys aren’t getting any younger, after all, and their records sadly don’t sell like they used to.
• It’s the first hip-hop concert I’d ever seen. Believe it or not, I never had the opportunity to see many of the groups I liked. Either I missed the band, or they didn’t tour, or they broke up.

So did they live up to the hype and my anticipation?

Well, the crew wasn’t at full strength–besides the obvious absence of poor ODB, Method Man wasn’t there (he had come through last month with Redman), and GZA was strangely absent as well. So right off the bat, the crew was missing two of their strongest members. Plus, a lot of the Wu seemed strangely apathetic about the show, especially Ghostface Killah, who barely rapped and walked off the stage about 3/4 of the way into the show, not to return. They also relied too much on the extended weed carriers/associates like Ice Water and Brooklyn Zoo for my taste. They were all decent, but not who I came to see.

And yet, when the remaining clan members (RZA, Masta Killa, Raekwon, U-God, Cappadonna, and Inspectah Deck) were focused on the show–ah, it was bliss. They brought the muthafuckin’ ruckus and then some. All the classics, unexpected treasures like “Careful (Click Click),” and some of the solo material (”Duel of the Iron Mic” peformed by Masta Killa, and even “M.E.T.H.O.D. Man” performed by Raekwon). Unquestionably, the Wu-Tang Clan is still nuthin’ ta fuck with.

There was a huge extended tribute to ODB, complete with performances of his best stuff (”Shimmy Shimmy Ya” with Brooklyn Zoo and the whole crowd singing his parts), shout outs to Obama, Cappadonna diving into the crowd, and a genuine feeling of shared love, camaraderie, and respect for real hip-hop. The audience was multiracial, with all genders, ethnicities, and lifestyles representing for Shaolin’s finest. From my vantage point on the upper deck, I got to scream along and shout with every chorus and loved every minute of it.

I didn’t take any pictures worth sharing myself (The G1’s camera isn’t all that great, and my battery was dying), but you can see some pix here, courtesy of my bud Michael Whitney. It was an awesome concert and a true hallmark that I will always treasure. The Wu-Tang sword may be a little flecked and bloodied, but it still swings and cuts heads better than anything.