Hailing from Staten Island, New York, the Wu-Tang Clan are more of an organisation than a band. Founded by cousins Robert ‘RZA’ Diggs, Gary ‘GZA’ Grice and Russell ‘ODB’ Jones, the three young rappers planned to take over the hip hop music industry. But to do that, they first needed to recruit others into their Clan. So in came (deep breath): Ghostface Killah, Inspectah Deck, Masta Killa, Method Man, Raekwon and U-God. Their strategy basically revolved around dominating the market. They would each collaborate on a group album and, if it was successful, splinter off to carve their own solo careers. Astonishingly, the plan worked. Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) cost less than $1000 to make, with each member chipping in $100, and recouped fat bags of cash. It made instant stars of all the Clan members and earned them the independence that they desired.

The deluge of solo albums from Wu and Wu-affiliated, artists that followed was vast, and not always very good. They succeeded in dominating the market, but at the expense of quality. However, this first group album remains a vital slab of rough-edged rap genius.

Uncompromisingly tough, almost every track here is a stripped down master class in vocals, beats and kung fu samples. This is brutal music, but with wit, intelligence and on Can It Be All So Simple and C.R.E.A.M., a surprising amount of heart. Eschewing the typical gangster rap clichés, the Wu-Tang Clan favoured surreal lyrics and quietly menacing music. RZA’s production is stripped down and claustrophobic, his samples just that little bit off kilter. It makes a refreshingly lo-fi contrast to the gloss of most mainstream hip hop.

All nine of the Clan members contribute to the album, but it’s clear from the start that this album is owned by ODB’s deranged rhymes and Method Man’s gruff menace. It takes a certain amount of brilliance to form a tightly focussed rap group like the Wu-Tang and then let a mad, drug addled, soul singer like Ol’ Dirty run amok in the middle of it, but on tracks like Da Mystery of Chessboxin’ it works incredibly well.

It’s not all great. Tearz is weak, and the album suffers from that bane of hip hop albums, tedious ‘comedy’ skits, but other than that it’s killer material. It’s also, weirdly, the all time favourite album of William Shatner of Star Trek fame. Anyone who has ever heard The Shat’s music will know just how terrifying the thought of him covering something by the Wu-Tang is. Altogether now, “come…on…and…bring…the…ruc…kus…Bones!”

Tragically, ODB died in 2005 at the age of 35, apparently from an accidental overdose. Dirty’s solo albums were always the best of the six-billion or so Wu side projects, largely because of his ability to mangle language into forms that fit his unique singing voice. Having recently come out of a stint in prison, he seemed to be cleaning his life up. Sadly it was not to be, and hip hop lost one of its true originals.

Following Enter The Wu-Tang, the Clan as a whole have released a further three group albums. None of them have quite matched the quality of their debut, but 2000’s The W does come close. And while they haven’t officially split, things do seem to be quiet on the Wu-Tang front at the moment. It’s a shame, because in a world where mainstream hip hop is largely made up of anodyne pap like Akon and the hateful 50 Cent, we need all the bands of samurai-obsessed conspiracy theorist nutters that we can get to keep things interesting. Come back soon guys…