Wu You Callin’ A Nerd?

The Wu-Tang Clan has never lied, and they’ve scarcely smiled. They most certainly did grow up in the decrepit projects of Staten Island, and they most certainly did sell a lot of crack. They’ve definitely shot more guns, broke more bottles, and talked more shit than either me or you—and for that, we should probably be thankful. Nobody deserves such a horrific childhood; I mean, imagine if you had the first-hand experiences required to inspire a song like “C.R.E.A.M.?” I can’t name too many optimistic Wu-Tang Clan songs. In fact, their best material has always made me feel like I’m at the end of my means. The sole respite on 1993’s stone-cold classic was a track called “Can It Be All So Simple,” which essentially informs us that the only relief these dudes get from the harsh realities of street-life is by reminiscing on the charmed ambivalence of youth.

So there I was, standing in a converted warehouse. Wu-Tang Clan is on stage, and my floppy-haired, hippyish roommate is absolutely losing his shit. This is the same guy who’s really, really excited about his shiny new 3DS. I am surrounded with some of the dorkiest white people I have ever seen in my entire life, and this is the moment they’ve all been waiting for. The cognitive dissonance surrounding bouncing to crunching gun-talk with a bunch of goofy squares is well documented, but it really shows itself when you’re talking about the Wu-Tang Clan. This is savage, insular rap music, but somehow it’s also the nerdiest shit ever.

Think about the people you know who are capable of reciting Supreme Clientele front to back. Now think about the people you know who are capable of having a serious conversation about Swamp Thing. Personally, my Venn Diagram looks like a perfect circle. Against all odds, milquetoast white dudes go crazy for Wu-Tang. I’m not sure if this is something the Clan predicted, but it’s certainly something they’re aware of. In the proliferation of his brand, RZA has made special care to structure the Wu-Tang business around some really geeky enterprises. Right now, you can buy curated kung-fu flicks branded as the Wu-Tang Collection, or a long forgotten PlayStation fighting game called Wu-Tang: Shaolin Style. These are, of course, business decisions. The Wu-Tang Clan would not be issuing video games or a comic book if they didn’t feel like they could make some money, but it’s also never felt pandering. Unlike the rest of the industry, there’s plenty of strong mutual interest between these nerdy white dudes and these famous rappers. Beneath all of the biographical eccentricities, the Wu-Tang Clan is built on some deeply geeky grounds, and it’s not something they’ve ever really hidden from.

When I was bored in high school, I used to draw atlases for mythological realms that I made up—it’s the exact way every fantasy novel got its beginnings. Maybe in the back of my mind, I was hoping the mythos I was constructing around the lands of Eldrethine would someday become a major motion picture, but it’s sort of a rite of passage to learn that nobody is ever going to care about your bullshit mythology. I think the RZA was the exact same way. 36 Chambers exists on the grounds of a secretive, interlocked war between two kung-fu elites, which is something he probably came up with in math class. Turning a bunch of corny ninja movies into a full-length record is essentially fan fiction. They talk about playing chess like it’s a legendary cultural maxim. Dennis Coles named himself Ghostface Killah, and you have to be a very specific type of person to think “Ghostface Killah” sounds dope.

It’s very rare to relate to rap music on a personal level, and I say that as a middle-class white person who listens to a lot of rap music. Usually, there are far too many social barriers, and those social barriers are the very thing that can make rap music great. But the fact that the Wu-Tang Clan connects on a philosophic level is a very reassuring thing. They were nine impoverished kids coming out of the most neglected parts of urban decay, whereas I went to a school with a private parking lot, but we were both able to meet in the middle. We both liked comic books, action movies, video games and smoky legends, and that transcended any race or economics. It’s not tokenism; falling in love with the Wu-Tang Clan feels like genuine friend-making. That cartoon “W” is a rallying point. A sea of doofy Caucasians in a converted warehouse bouncing around to “Tears” is very optimistic sort of geekiness.

@luke_winkie