Why Zac Should Never Be Allowed To Write About Hip Hop; Lesson 1: Ol' Dirty Bastard

Since the very inception of this whole GBoAT thing, our man Steve Schroeder has been hassling me. Just last week he sez to me, he sez, "Zac, pretty soon I'm gonna have to demand you write about something other than white dudes in a rock bands. You're looking like a chump. A racist chump. And I don't wanna see you writing about some kinda Japanese girl group, neither." So I sez to him, I sez, "Listen Schroeder, I fear what I do not understand. And i do not understand 'minority music.'" bad joke.

No, but seriously: I know I have a very narrow scope of "expertise." English dudes. That's pretty much all I got. I've never been much for Jazz, and (god forgive me for admitting this) traditional Raggae/Dancehall/Dub has never really done much for me either. It's not that I don't listen to other kinds of music--in fact, I pretty much exclusively listen to hip hop any time I'm in a car doing anything. But that addresses the root of the problem, I guess: I am primarily a fan of Commercial hip hop. And it's hardly worth it to spend GBoAT time on widely acknowledged artists like Jay-Z or J Kwon, or Ludacris, or whoever, as I don't think I could possibly illuminate anything everyone doesn't already know about these artists.

I do have a sort of guilt (colorless guilt, thank you) at the notion that my record collection is primarily composed of examples of cultural appropriation, with considerable fewer examples of their sources. When it comes to Hip Hop, however, I'm surprisingly comfortable with the lack of volume in my CD racks. Over the years I've owned a fair number of Hip Hop albums, the majority of them I have invariably sold after a few years. While this might suggest an extremely narrow appreciation for the art form, I would hope that a brief (if less than informed) explanation might clarify a little bit.

I have long viewed Hip Hop as an art form of disposability. Which, though perhaps wrapped in a negative connotations, is not meant to dismiss or malign it in any way. It's just that, more so than any other music medium, Hip Hop (commercial Hip Hop, anyway) is designed for the Now, the New, and the Fresh, with little regard for sonic longevity. Now, I know what you're saying: All commercial music is designed for the now. Granted. but it seems to me that the bulk of the disposable pop music just borrows it's cues from Hip Hop, fusing it's freshness with more tradition pop structures.

I have a great deal of respect for any media that eschews the future for the present, as I think that most media is far too often self-important and self-revelatory. But it seems to me (much to the embarrassment of my co-editor) that Hip Hop is designed to have a quick shelf-life.

Again, this coming from someone who gets his Hip Hop primarily from commercial radio. Anyway. Long story short, I really like Hip Hop (a phrase that, as i type it, sounds shockingly like "I have a lot of black friends"), I just have no business writing about it.

But that said, this entry is supposedly about Ol' Dirty Bastard, so here goes: though I think the Ol' Dirty saga (far overshadowing his actual music, the bulk of which i enjoy immensely) is now the subject of a VH1 Special or something, let me recount some of the highlights.

So, first there was Wu-Tang--the most important rap group of the 90s and beyond. Russell Jones and his cousins Robert Diggs (the RZA) and Gary Grice (GZA the Genius) began with a brilliant premise, even better production, and a plan: drop a bomb as a vast collective, and in the wake of the explosion, start as many solo careers as possible. The plan worked brilliantly, as the group's debut, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) was an out and out smash, and a certified classic. The Clan was also smart enough to manage an unprecedented contract that only allowed for the release of Wu-Tang records proper, which opened the door for ever member (and later, sub-member) to negotiate solo record deals individually.

Dirty was the second member of the Clan (after Method Man) to release a solo record, the wildly popular Return to the 36 Chambers--with its infamous welfare i.d. card cover--was released in 1995. RZA's production is on par with his best records of the period, allowing ODB a beautiful canvas on which to shit. The ODB's Wu persona is expanded herein to a shockingly manic degree--an early solidification of the mad clown that would soon take over his life. It sort of just sounds like they set him in front of a mic, recorded hours of random, ranting material, and taped all together into some semblance of a record. For example: "Shimmy Shimmy Ya," his biggest solo hit, is like a lot of the record, just the same verse repeated twice over RZA's masterfully minimal production. The subject matter--much like that of most of his work--is largely shockingly crass, scatological, nonsensical, and often self-depricating (typified in the single "Raw Hide" with lyrics like: "I came out my momma pussy/I'm on welfare/Twenty-six years old still on welfare!.../I don't give a fuck/I wanna see blood, whether it's period blood/Or bustin' your fuckin face/some blood!.../I'm dope like fuckin' heroin/Wu-Tang Bloodkin/a goblin/who come tough like lambskin/Imagine/gettin' shot up with Ol Dirty insulin/You bound to catch AIDS or somethin'/Not sayin I got it/but nigga if I got it you got it!!") Though not the greatest record in the Wu-Tang cannon, it was enough to create one of the most charismatic, memorable characters in hip hop's long line of crazies.

Then everything started to go famously wrong. in 1997, Dirty is arrest for not paying child support on three of his then-13 children. the next year, he became a (abbreviated) household name after bum-rushing the Grammy stage during Shawn Colvin's expectance speech to protest Wu-Tang's loss to Puff Daddy ("...Wu Tang is for he children. We teach the children. Puffy is good, but Wu-Tang is the best. I want you to know that this is ODB, and I love you all. PEACE."). Then his rap-sheet started to expand: an attempted assault charge from his ex-wife, a warrant for his arrest after missing court dates about child support, and an arrest for shoplifting (after trying to walk out of a shoe store with $50 dollar shoes on) that came one week after he walked out of a hospital, against doctor's orders, with a gun shot wound. He missed the court dates for this arrest, and another warrant was placed out for him. Later that year he was arrested twice for threatening to shoot people on two different occasions.

The next year, he was arrested for attempted murder after a routine traffic stop, in which they alleged Dirty fired shots at them, though no evidence of a weapon was ever produced, and the case was dismissed. over the next few months he was pulled over four additional times, all of which resulting in criminal charges: the first was possession of a bulletproof vest (which is illegal for a felon in LA, where he was at the time), the second was possession of Crack, and the third was driving without plates and a suspended license, and finally, for possession of marijuana and additional crack. like, a lot of crack. Dude kept avoiding court dates, and kept getting warrants out for his arrest.

During this time, he completed his sophomore record, 1999s uneven Nigga Please, with a wide cast of producers including the Neptunes and RZA. The record was financially successful, though nowhere near that of its predecessor, and spawn the CLASSIC single "Got Your Money," featuring Kelis.

After serving 10 months in court-ordered rehab for a million different violations, ODB (who was now also mysteriously known as Big Baby Jesus, Joe Bananas, Osiris, and later, Dirt McGirt) went on the lamb with only two months of rehab left--becoming a fugitive. in this time, he famously made an on-stage appearance at the crowded record release party for the W, the third Wu Tang Clan record, and escaped without arrest. a few days later he was caught, and was sentenced to only two-to-four years for the amassment of all of his charges.

In his two year jail term he gained a ton of weight, was largely on suicide watch, and spent a healthy chunk of time in a mental hospital. He's convinced that the FBI is monitoring him. His record company releases a "Best Of" record, despite only having released two proper full-lengths. a tiny record company releases a record called The Trials and Tribulations of Russell Jones, featuring vocals he recorded on the lamb, without his knowledge.

ODB--now Dirt McGirt--was release from prison in may of last year, and now has what appears to be a largely exploitative contract with the esteemed Roc-A-Fella records (no release date in sight that I could muster), a VH1 special, and has a 9 pm curfew. GBoAT gettin' EMO.

Since I've done absolutely nothing to establish Ol' Dirty Bastard's unique brilliance with this lengthy historical tirade (getting more and more like that, aren't I?), it's hard to aptly support my assessment of "Greatest Band of All Time." Blew that. Well, it is the name of the blog, after all. The first, and hopefully last, Hip Hop post I will ever write. Thank you for your patience.

[holy shit--this is like 1600 words! GBoAT was never supposed to be like this! We'll work this out.]