I found the Wu-Tang Clan’s sophomore effort, Wu-Tang Forever, a bit of a disappointment. There are moments of real greatness and at least one song where each member of the crew shines (although Ol’ Dirty Bastard is given less scope than most). But on the whole I thought it often felt bloated and by the second disc was starting to play like a series of B-sides or offcuts. The very thing that had made Enter the Wu-Tang so memorable, its almost cryptic sense of concision, was largely missing from the sprawl of the sequel.
By contrast, The W is much more in keeping with the sound of Enter the Wu-Tang, although different in some important respects as well. As a single album it already has an advantage over Wu-Tang Forever, especially since producer RZA does a terrific job of splitting the difference between fragments and songs, creating a kaleidoscope effect in which the group remains slightly more than the sum of its parts, each member contributing their share without ever losing their edgy individuality. As Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s last album with the group before his death in 2004 (he was absent from 2001’s Iron Flag) the Wu’s collectivity feels especially precious.
This edgy quality sits dissonantly and intriguingly with an even more mellifluous production style from RZA, who described this as a back-to-basics album. That’s certainly true compared to Wu-Tang Forever but the sound is also far lusher than on the groups debut – it is to RZA’s burgeoning cinematic style what Enter the Wu-Tang was to his more skeletal style. At times it splits the difference between a soundtrack and a studio album – or recognises that a soundtrack is perhaps the ideal vehicle to capture the collectivity of the Wu in the post 36 Chambers-era, gesturing as it does towards a grand narrative that is reflected but not entirely contained by the music.
There’s also an urgency to The W that differentiates it from Wu-Tang Forever. Several of the tracks have paranoid stabs for their choruses, most memorably “Careful (Click, Click)” and “Do You Really (Thang, Thang).” But they’re also offset by flamboyant atmospheric moments from RZA, such as “I Can’t Go To Sleep,” possibly the album’s most dramatic break with the Wu-Tang’s previous sound, couched as it is in an ultra-string-and-synth production. You also sense the Wu moving away from their hermetic intensity of their debut, such as on “Conditioner,” a great East Coast-West Coast to-and-fro between ODB and Snoop.
All of which is to say that The W sees the Wu moving from a collective to a concept. Lots of the same pieces are in place but the links between the different members are simultaneously more dispersed and more paranoid – or perhaps paranoid about what this dispersal means for their brand and sound. RZA ties it all together but then again this is the first album where you sense that his production will ultimately be the common denominator across the Wu-Tang lineage. Still, those tensions are also what make The W so dynamic as an album too.