I’ve referred to the Wu-Tang Clan’s 1993 album Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) many times in this countdown, usually when discussing the best Hip Hop albums of all time. I haven’t actually gotten to write about any of its tracks until now, though. Over these 62 countdown entries, I’ve had plenty of time to think about how best to describe it in scholarly terms, but I keep returning to my personal relationship with the album. Enter the Wu-Tang was the perfect Hip Hop album for the 13-year-old suburban white boy I was when I first heard it in 1995, which isn’t to say it’s in any way soft; when Method Man said he’ll “bang your nuts with a spiked f***in’ bat,” he meant it. The album is such a departure from Public Enemy’s black militancy, A Tribe called Quest’s jazzy grooves, or N.W.A.’s gangsta raps that it truly belongs among those rare records for which the descriptor “paradigm shift” is apt. I’ve always been a tourist when listening to the aforementioned, but in the Wu-Tang Clan’s world of Kung Fu flicks, comic books, and obscure pop culture references, I’m right at home. The Clan tossed aside what blueprints existed in 1992 for commercially viable Hip Hop and still managed to drop a platinum album, prompting Pitchfork to describe it as “the sound of accidental fame.”
Known for its bizarre song structures, unorthodox free associative lyrics, and random Kung Fu flick excerpts, Enter the Wu-Tang‘s unifying quality is its bleak sound scape. RZA avoided the James Brown loops that were so prevalent in mainstream Hip Hop in lieu of more obscure soul samples and straight up raw studio sounds. Allmusic’s Stephen Thomas Erlewine described the album’s vibe as “lean, menacing beats that evoked (the Clan’s) gritty, urban surroundings more effectively than their words.” RZA’s genius aside, the minimalist production is also the result of little budget. “Because (RZA) didn’t have the best mixing or recording equipment, the album is wrought with a ‘dirty’ quality—the drums have more bass and are more hard-hitting than they are crisp and clean; the samples have an eerie, almost haunting type of echo; and the vocals, because each member’s voice is already aggressive and gritty, perfectly match the production,” wrote music critic Ben Yew.
Enter the Wu-tang has been credited with single-handedly snatching Hip Hop fans’ attention back to New York after it seemed like L.A.’s gangsta rap would never release its grip. Its 13 tracks are universal in their simultaneous street and suburban appeal, landing the record on numerous best-of lists, most notably Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. The Clan’s nine larger than life personalities and its “9 Diagram Phoenix” emblem were ready made to market, yet nearly 20 years later, they’ve managed to keep the respect of Hip Hop’s underground through numerous solo albums and other projects.
It’s appropriate that “Protect Ya Neck” is the first 36 chambers track to make my countdown. In addition to being the album’s first single, it was also the perfect introduction to the Clan as eight of its nine members vie for time on the mic. The song is pure attitude as each member attempts to outdo the others with nonstop bragging and threats. “Turn the other cheek, and I’ll break your f***in’ chin,” shouts the RZA in “Protect Ya Neck’s” seventh verse. Similar to their 1997 tracks “Diesel” and “Triumph,” the track has no hook or chorus, giving the track a relentless vibe. Method Man repeatedly warns “watch your step, kid” during the hook, a precursor to the track “Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing ta F*** Wit,” which you should’ve known if you made it through this one.