NYC Pity Committee

Harris Publications owes me fucking $18.

For some reason I didn’t anticipate that this would be a kind of bullshit night. I left campus sometime Saturday afternoon with absolute unawareness that, after being spoiled since I was 16 by live music experiences that were started on time and didn’t offer mirages of gratuity, I was to finally experience the dreaded “rap show in a club”.

The Internal Affairs 10th Anniversary show story starts in the middle of the week. I go to xxlmag.com virtually every day to read Byron Crawford and Ron Mexico’s respective blog drops. To the immediate left was a blurb about a Harris Publications contest to go see the Pharoahe Monch show in Brooklyn (literally like a 20 minute or so walk from my pre-Bed-Stuy-gentrification brownstone) for free. Because of all the Brooklyn Vegan contests I’ve entered in the last year, I’ve grown pretty used to entering this sort of thing, plus the question was easy enough: “Which artist has Pharoahe Monch never been featured on a song with?” All four of the answers except one were pretty obvious, or at least would be if you dug Phaorahe in the least bit, so I emailed them “MF DOOM” from the choices and got an email the next day or so saying I had won.

I’d never seen Pharoahe perform before and had to skip the Organized Konfusion reunion shows and this year’s Rock the Bells out of budgetary constraints/sloth so I thought this was fate. I was meant to see Monche destroy a small, intimate Brooklyn club I’d never heard of playing one of my favorite post-Golden Age rap albums for free.

They asked for my email because, not trusting XXLmag of Harris Publications for shit based on the widespread knowledge of the shadiness and bootlegged lack of professionalism from rap mags (i.e. the lingering taint of the Source and the 5 Mic lottery of the Benzino era) so I gave them my AOL when I initially entered the contest as my college email is actually important and I don’t give my government out to the sort of people who’d give vapid chicks from Drake videos a week-long blog column. Probably a mistake since my college email would’ve inherently given them enough info to’ve put me on the RSVP for the show, which was in jeopardy by the weekend as I realized, after a long day in class away from my computer and checking my email for the first time at 5, that they had yet to send me an email back saying they received the last email and that I was good to go.

“What kind of bullshit business doesn’t respond back to emails after Thursday? There’s another work day, right?”

Cut to Thursday. I picked up a few items from my house to take back to college (Halloween mask, PS2 games, etc.) and checked up on my mom who’s having a rough time health wise. At no point during the weekend had I cleared the enthusiastic haze out of mind and thought of printing out my e-correspondence with XXL just in case they were as unprofessional as I’d reckoned and didn’t put me on the RSVP. Nor did I think to borrow my mom’s unlimited metrocard just in case some bullshit happened and I had to come back to the house to sort it out or for any other reason. It’s this kind of lack of foresight that has me coming out of pocket for a second senior year in college.

I take the A to Schermerhorn, hop to the G, get off at Classon and walk through the neighborhood, which is a part of Brooklyn I’ve never been to since, in all honesty, I don’t really fuck with the boroughs like that. I know Manhattan and west Brooklyn better than relatives’ birthdays yet the Bronx, parts of Queens and the other %75 of Brooklyn I never have to visit could be Philly for all I know. A little sketched out to be in the kind of area where the projects have their own embedded police precinct (you’d think that’d help, but if anything it’s the opposite), I made an L to the venue, this odd Bohemian nest in the middle of a semi-gully remnant of pre-Grizzly Bear Brooklyn called Sputnik. Real neo-soul looking inside, calming earth tones, candles, people that look like ?uestlove. Like walking into the jazz club from “What They Do”, actually.

I had Curb Your Enthusiasm and Bill Maher on DVR, but I watched two episodes of Curb and rushed to the venue because the show was supposed to start at 10pm. Once again, lack of foresight. This wasn’t like any of the metal or hardcore shows I’d gone to or even the Ghostface and Roots shows or Rock the Bells. Those shits started on time. It was organized by professionals and had actual money going into it, presenting an opportunity cost if any post-Forever Wu-Tang bullshit scamming or delays happened. When I got there, we were told that the doors for the show would open at 10:30. From the hundreds of shows I’ve gone to, I knew that meant the show would probably go on at 11:15 at the very earliest. I asked the doorman if I was on the RSVP for contest winner to make sure that the sinking paranoia I was starting to feel was just that.

Nope. Not on the list. For his credit the guy seemed genuinely concerned and not pretending to be distant and superior like most NYC doormen. But at this point I had a choice: either pay the fare and go home to print out the emails or stay there and cough up the $18 door charge. Stupidly, I just lingered around there and, after double-checking with the stampstress downstairs and going to get a $10 from the Chinese spot ATM, just said “Fuck it” and paid the money. I was dejected, especially since I was alone, bored, playing text tag on some interpersonal drama shit with a girl from school and quickly realizing that the show was taking so long that I would not be able to catch the last 1’o clock Metro-North to White Plains or the last 2’something free shuttle back to campus. Meaning I’d be stuck in NYC for the night and likely not get back in time the next day to get any meaningful amount of work or anything done.

Anyway, the actual show was great. The intimacy was the entire reason I was doing this, plus the promise that Monch wouldn’t be playing Desire. I might give that record another chance later but from what I remember it wasn’t great, but rode a wave of well-wishing because you’d have to be a complete asshole to not love the guy. That goodwill is how I convinced myself that I didn’t mind XXL’s inefficient fuck-up that was costing me $18.

“Monch deserves the money, goddamit. I mean, he couldn’t sell Internal Affairs for 10 years over sample issues, Desire did Q-Tip numbers and who knows how much of the Diddy ghostwriting money is still around. If I can support the dude enough that he can cop a Popeye’s 5-piece boneless chicken strip meal and take a cab back home after, so be it”

Although Monch's kind of getting back to "Fudge Pudge" status so clearly he's both caking and eating, figuratively and/or literally.

As evidenced by the video, and the entire thing is on that same Youtube account, the shit was nuts. There are maybe 2 or 3 songs off Internal Affairs that I’ve never really liked or felt, so I was bound to enjoy the shit. Plus, he didn’t stick to the script completely. Throughout the evening (or morning because after the warm-up acts, a guy who did a rap where he just pieced together the names of streets in NYC and a member of the X-Ecutioners crew who did a DJ set that felt like a good hour, it was like 12:45) Monch took requests (some tall white dude that looks like he fucks with Jedi Mind Tricks, Kool G Rap and R.A. the Rugged Man heavy shouted out some Soundbombing track after ever song until Monch finally did it.) and did his verses from “Oh No”, “My Life”, “Desire”, and an Organized Konfusion song, I think “Stray Bullets”. He was helped halfway through the set by two singers who, Unitarian Christ bless, were talented but the kind of budget nondescript singers that you get in NYC. A thick-bordering-on-“BBW” chick with ridiculously immaculate cleavage a dude the size of Buckshot that kind of looked a lot like Gandhi from “Clone High”.

The set list is on the youtube channel, but the M.O.P song, maybe my favorite Internal Affairs track, lacked any M.O.P. Monch apologized, but I don’t think anyone, even me at this point, was surprised. The flyer promised tons of guests, basically everyone who guested on the record, but no one showed up. Jean Grae (looking fine and amused at everything), DJ Scratch and Evil D were in the booth, though, though Jean was spectating and didn’t come down to the stage to spit anything.

The night ended with “Simon Says” of course, this was probably my favorite rap concert moment ever and definitely in my top 5 concert experiences in general. I haven’t yelled that loud and spazzed that hard since the last time I saw Converge live, and save for hopefully getting to see M.O.P. do “Ante Up” live in the future. Plus Monch is just as much of a playful virtuoso with a preacher's prescence and a king's tendency to proclaim. I’ve been hearing about S.O.B’s and their rap shows for a minute but I’ve always been hesitant. Seeing Monch live just convinced me to check their listing and check out live hip-hop more than I have been, especially since I unfortunately missed the Boot Camp Clik show and could prolly catch Sean Price there any time.

The second highlight of the Monch weekend? Running into R.A. the Rugged Man at the Fulton Street 4/5/A/C train station. He asked some dude for directions a few feet away but I didn’t geek out and tell him how much I liked Die, Rugged Man, Die just because I’m terrible at talking to people I recognize, like when I ran up on Jay Smooth this summer at a KRS-ONE free show in the Bronx and kind of made him feel uncomfortable as I struggled to verbalize how much I love his work.

Now to get someone to go with me to Vivian Girls.

You Thought You Wasn't Gon See Me? I'm The Osirus Of This Shit!

Fact: Wu are the apex of rap, or, as RZA always says "hip-hop in its purest form". All the interviews, videos, albums, the aesthetics, the mythology, the universal appeal, the fact that they're both a group and an assembly of solo stars, Wu-Tang Clan is the embodiment of all things hip-hop. Coincidentally, when they're off their game, so is the majority of the art form.

I thought it fitting, with the subdued level of anticipation for 8 Diagrams coming in December and the always prevalent geek-level discussion about the Wu, to talk about the song that made me a fan, since I was really poppy until around 14 or 15 and liked almost everything that got played on MTV for a while and wasn't really interested in checking for albums until late in junior high.

I focus on this song, of the final years of Wu's visibility as a group over "Gravel Pit", "Protect Ya Neck (The Jump Off)", and the amazing "I Can't Go To Sleep" because, for one, its fucking ill. Two, its the only one of those four singles without a hook, which is still a big accomplishment to have this long ass grimy hardcore rap track with 9 dudes spitting and no hook be a big radio and MTV hit. Plus, Wu-Tang Forever pushed like 8 mil.

Now, besides how unorthodox it is as a single, its an amazing example of subtlety in songwriting and arranging and how to approach a pop song. First off, Deck's verse, which pretty much ruins the song for the rest of the Wu, with only 4 verses coming even anywhere near the quality of INS' opening.

"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies
and hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these
mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery
Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me
Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits
tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics
I inspect view through the future see millenium
Killa Beez sold fifty gold sixty platinum
Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics
Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths
Black Wu jackets Queen Beez ease the guns in
Rumblin patrolmen tear gas laced the function
Heads by the score take flight incite a war
Chicks hit the floor, die-hard fans demand more
Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly
Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi
Stomp grounds I pound footprints in solid rock
Wu got it locked, performin' live on your hottest block"

Even recited acapella, the cadence and bounce of his verse is ridiculous. Its probably one of my favorites of all time, along with a bunch of stuff from Ready To Die, "Hit Em Up", and AZ's verse on "Life's a Bitch". Judging by how RZA chooses the cats to lace his tracks based on who makes the hottest rhymes for it (good in-house quality control, which explains why U-God is so scarce on albums...) at the moment, I can definitely imagine the rest of the Wu being both wowed and frustrated by Deck's verse, which alone makes an argument for checking his solo records. Plus, he pretty much wrecks the much more even, quality wise, "Protect Ya Neck (The Jump Off)". Dude's flow is on point, period.

At this point in the song, shit is wrecked. The gauntlet is laid, and interestingly enough, whoever survives without sucking implies the caste structure of the Wu. Example, the first stars of the Clan were ODB, Meth, and Rae, and the perception was Meth was the best. Unfortunately, Meth was just the first one to be fully developed as an MC, not counting GZA who is always on some crazy meditative 43-year-old man shit that never fails. Seriously, the guy is almost creepily detached and wise-sounding. Whereas RZA pretends to know what he's talking about, GZA seems to know just about everything. But poor, poor Meth got burned out, and his only good album (Tical 2000) got shitted on by most rap fans. The issue with Meth has always been, since "Method Man", that along with Ghost, he has the best flow in the Wu, but as opposed to Ghost, never really says anything good lyrically. Its not as if Meth's lyrics are terrible, they aren't most of the time. The issue is his verses have no endurance, they fall apart halfway through and he isn't very interesting most of the time. It reminds me of watching "Method Man" in 2004 and going "wow...uh...most of his verses were awful". So its fitting that he's the first to be fed to the wolves on the track and sort of put him in his place as a good and charismatic rapper, but nothing more.

So, Wu went through three phases of caste in the 15 or so year existence of the group. Between the first album, first phase solo releases and second album, it went:

Top Tier: Gza Rza ODB Meth
Second Tier: Raekwon Ghost InspectahDeck
Weed Carriers/Fill-Ins:MastaKilla U-God

From Wu-Tang Forever to the second round of solo releases (the end of RZA's 5 year plan), it looks like this:

Top Tier: Rza ODB Gza Ghost
Second Tier:Meth Raekwon Inspectah Deck
Weed Carriers/Fill-ins:MastaKilla U-God

And you could argue that at the moment its:

Top Tier: Ghost Gza Rza(more for behind the scenes than rapping)
Weed Carriers/Fill-Ins: Everyone else

So with Meth's underwhelming bars, there's less tension and the next verse will seem really good, in theory. The pressure is off, and Meth took the bullet and caught a Kennedy. Which is lucky for Cappadonna, because he sucks and his breezy, unobtrusive verse passes by like a pallet cleanser. After listening to this song a lot lately, I noticed how the effect of so many disparate styles and rappers affects the feeling and flow of the song. As opposed to a sonic dynamic, the same loop rocks through the song and the dynamic of the song is retained in the difference between all the members of the group, which is an interesting occurrence that I don't think could be intentionally replicated. However, there is a sense of something like parts or a suite as after the first third, ODB (where the fuck was he to make such a weird out-of-touch, rushed sounding adlib?) comes in with his Wu hype, and then the beat's second loop, the repeating vocal riff over strings starts for U-God's verse. Not really that great in the scheme of Wu-Tang as an MC, but he drops a great verse in that fragment sentence flow of his where he seems to break everything into measured spaces.

Next up, RZA comes on and gets on his RZA shit. Besides being the founder, leader, and producer for Wu (and oddly enough, part of one of the two families within Wu, as he's cousins to GZA and ODB and Rae and Ghost are half-brothers), he's also fucking weird as an MC. All these things keep him in the top tier of Wu constantly, and I quickly grew to love how he's purposefully off beat. He can rap, but he tends to just fucking say "Fuck it" and throw in as much consonance, assonance, and garbled rhymes as he can and just go a beat or so over the snare, making his last words occupy an awkward aural space of inherited importance and putting emphasis on everything. And RZA's verses are just always so cool...I don't know what it is about him and ODB, but they're always wildin out on tracks. Plus, he wore wings in the video and comes up with great aesthetics. Seriously, the whole egomaniacal god-like nature of the "Triumph" clip is perfect.

So RZA drops the second good post-INS verse, which we will now refer to as the "post-9/11" verse. Next up, GZA, who never falters, so we move on to Masta Killa. Now, on the whole idea of dynamics and pacing in a rap song, particularly this, what I would hate on any other track worked perfectly as Masta Killa's asshole ruminations about pretentious 5% bullshit (seriously, he reeks of arrogance on here. At least when GZA invokes a deity or elder perspective, he's LIKABLE). Plus, he pretty much doesn't flow at all for his verse, he talks on beat almost like he's giving a speech, which both acts as a good twin for GZA and buffer for RZA's recklessness while putting a second dramatic peak to the song. It almost sounds like the Wu manifesto, which makes it real interesting, especially in light of friction between Ghost and the rest of the Wu of late, when Ghost starts his verse with "Yo, FUCK THAT". I always laugh when I hear that, because it comes in grimy and dismissive , razing all the haughtiness of the Masta Killa verse in just a few words.Predictably, since until Supreme Clientele they were musically inseparable, Ghost and Raekwon end the song and video together, straying from everyone else on the track by strictly keeping to hood themes and avoiding any abstraction or overt 5% prophetic shit-talking. And of everyone in the group, the two were always the best at crime talk, anyway.

It's interesting that the last section of the song is thematically completely different from the rest, seeing as in reference to how some of the Wu gave B.I.G shit around Ready To Die, Method said something along the lines of "That's just Ghost and Rae. They don't like anybody". Though everyone in the Wu seems to be cool with Cappadonna, RZA and ODB, it always felt like Ghost and Rae, for that time period, just liked themselves the most. Regardless, the two are, after GZA, the most lyrically complex in the group and succeeded in each dropping great verses, which was probably helped by going last. I also have to add that its odd that Ghost's vocals sound like they were done at a completely different time and place, based on the sound of the recording, which sort of again hint at how the two half-brothers are the loners of the group.

Its crazy to me to have 9 guys all spit 9 different flows and verses on a track with just one rhythm, which itself is a feat considering how most of the Wu rapped the same way on the first album, and that they avoided biting the flow utilized by Deck at the onset of the track. Its tough knowing he killed it and found the sweet spot, in a way, and that you have to work harder to keep your individuality all the while being inspired.

Now, considering the first four records, it'd be interesting if there ends up being a classic group cut on 8 Diagrams. Fishscale's "9 Milli Bros." was decent, so hopefully they can improve upon that, but I doubt they'll be able to get anywhere near "Triumph" or "Protect Ya Neck (The Jump Off)", the latter of which has one of the most ridiculous Ghostface verses of all time.



"The swift chancellor flex the white-gold tarantula..." -Raekwon