My fondest memory of my Bat Mitzvah is the car-ride to the service with my brother. Instead of bestowing advice, my brother initiated me with Wu-Tang Clan’s Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers).
While I should have been reviewing Bat Mitzvah tunes, the album’s second cut — “Shame On A Nigga” featuring Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Method Man and Raekwon the Chef — blasted through my ears. With lines like “burn me, I get into shit, I let it out like diarrhea,” I didn't get the album’s significance.
I didn’t know it at the time, but my brother was covertly instilling those first seeds of rebellion: don’t memorize the traditions of your ancestors, listen to Ghostface Killah instead. While I didn’t immediately heed his advice — I rocked those Bat Mitzvah songs — I habitually blasted RZA’s beats and memorized GZA’s brusque verses. Before long, 36 Chambers’ explosive raps and explicit lyrics became the prerequisite to many degenerate nights. Although I loved those $18 checks, now I appreciate Wu-Tang’s beats and my brother’s sage advice.
