itunes on shuffle, 02
the very first thing he said to me upon opening the front door to his house was, "let me show you somethin'...", beckoning me to follow him. and i did. i always did.
i loved hanging out with my cousin cesar at his house. he was my hero. he was the coolest person i knew. and he didn't mind me coming over, which made me feel cool in all my pre-teen awkwardness. although he was only two years older than me, i felt that he had somehow surpassed a level of coolness rarely associated with any 8th grader. he was fucking cool. he'd hang out with high school kids. he'd get into fights and always win. he was always in trouble at school, but always respectful of his teachers. he was a good-lookin' kid, enormous and strong, charismatic as all hell, hilariously blunt and good-natured, daring and victorious. brown as an aztec warrior. the girls loved him and hated him; he had a smile that broke many hearts. everybody wanted to be his friend.
i wanted to be just like him.
whenever we'd hang out, i'd always observe him and study him, trying to decipher where his coolness came from, hoping to adopt any possible "cool" characteristics for myself. was it his posture? his mellow stroll? maybe he was cool because he wasn't afraid of smiling big, showing all his naturally straight teeth. or maybe it was his jokes. or his ability to interact with anybody in a respectful light-hearted way. who knows. whatever it was, i couldn't comprehend it and i always knew that i wouldn't ever be able to copy it. so i didn't try. i didn't wanna be a wanna-be.
but i really did admire the guy. and whenever i'd hang out with him, i'd always feel inspired to let myself accept my own awkwardness and grow around it. he looked very secure and comfortable being who he was. i realized that it was the best shot that i had. i imagined that puberty was gonna be a hell of an adventure to survive, but it seemed that it was working out just fine for my cousin cesar. my faith in the social world was restored every time i hung out with him.
i walked into his bedroom right behind him, closing the door right behind me. i remember my eyes enlarged twice their normal size as i glanced around his room, looking at the dozens of posters and magazine clip-outs covering every inch of his bedroom walls; metal rock bands that looked scary and demented to me, images of skateboarders flippin' bunnies-in-hats on handrails, pictures of his friends. he opened the blinds to his bedroom and plopped down next to his boombox. he grabbed one of the cd cases from his bed, yanked out the cd, and tossed the case in my direction.
"this is fucking FUNNY." he grinned.
i looked at the album cover. enter the wu-tang: 36 chambers. wu-tang clan. i counted seven people on the cover... but i couldn't make out any of their faces. but that Wu emblem... the famous W. it burned into my memory.
"check this out."
as he pressed play, i remember sitting next to the boombox, paying very close attention. in the background i heard a piano fading out, and a deep raspy voice coming on.
"yeah... torture, mothafucka, what..."
my cousin started laughing.
"i'll fucken... i'll fucken tie you to a fucken bedpost... with ya asscheeks spread out and shit, right? put a hanger on the fucken stove and let that shit sit there for like a half hour... take it off and stick it in ya ass slow, like... sssssssssssssssssssss...."
this was my first glimpse of east coast hip-hop music: method man talking about sodomizing someone with an ultra-hot metal hanger. i had no idea what that image would look like in reality... it sounded so absurd to me, i didn't even laugh. my cousin, on the other hand, rolled around on the floor.
i continued to listen carefully, imagining each scenario. someone beating on my nutsack with a spiked bat. someone stabbing my tongue with a rusty screwdriver. my cousin laughed as he looked at my face; i know that i felt shocked and nervous. i mean... people actually talk about doing that sorta stuff to other people?
method man's final scenario finally made me laugh.
"i'll fucken... i'll fucken... sew ya asshole closed and keep feeding you... and feeding you... and feeding you... and feeding you..."
i remember imagining a thin man with a horribly expanded torso tied to a chair, mouth being held open by plastic oral contraptions like when you're at the dentist, and a maniac wearing a hoodie with no face shoving spoonful after spoonful of gruel into this man's mouth. the whole image was so weird, it made me laugh.
as soon as the beat began, my cousin started the track all over again. it was funnier the second time around. it was hilarious the third time around. after a few times of playing it over and over, i had memorized the entire dialogue. i thought it was the crudest conversation i had ever heard. my mind had expanded into finding ludicrous torturous acts hilarious. in my mind, it was ok to laugh at such scenarios because they weren't possible. no human being would ever intentionally inflict such pain on another human being. it just wasn't possible. therefore, joking about it was ok.
i remember that eventually my cousin let the rest of the album play, and i remember feeling hypnotized and baffled by the kung-fu samples and the weird dusty production of the album. none of what these guys were saying made any sense to me. i couldn't understand how a person like old dirty bastard could ever be featured on a recording; the man sounded totally completely deranged. it was a very creepy and alien sound and style to me. i absolutely loved it.
though i didn't understand it (or even know it at the time), this album would prove to be a very pivotal point for me in my taste of hip-hop music in the years to come. in retrospect, i can now safely say that listening to this wu-tang release 14 years ago changed my life.
and for that, i'll always remember my cousin cesar. to this day, if i listen to enter the wu-tang at the right moment, i still get goosebumps.
i loved hanging out with my cousin cesar at his house. he was my hero. he was the coolest person i knew. and he didn't mind me coming over, which made me feel cool in all my pre-teen awkwardness. although he was only two years older than me, i felt that he had somehow surpassed a level of coolness rarely associated with any 8th grader. he was fucking cool. he'd hang out with high school kids. he'd get into fights and always win. he was always in trouble at school, but always respectful of his teachers. he was a good-lookin' kid, enormous and strong, charismatic as all hell, hilariously blunt and good-natured, daring and victorious. brown as an aztec warrior. the girls loved him and hated him; he had a smile that broke many hearts. everybody wanted to be his friend.
i wanted to be just like him.
whenever we'd hang out, i'd always observe him and study him, trying to decipher where his coolness came from, hoping to adopt any possible "cool" characteristics for myself. was it his posture? his mellow stroll? maybe he was cool because he wasn't afraid of smiling big, showing all his naturally straight teeth. or maybe it was his jokes. or his ability to interact with anybody in a respectful light-hearted way. who knows. whatever it was, i couldn't comprehend it and i always knew that i wouldn't ever be able to copy it. so i didn't try. i didn't wanna be a wanna-be.
but i really did admire the guy. and whenever i'd hang out with him, i'd always feel inspired to let myself accept my own awkwardness and grow around it. he looked very secure and comfortable being who he was. i realized that it was the best shot that i had. i imagined that puberty was gonna be a hell of an adventure to survive, but it seemed that it was working out just fine for my cousin cesar. my faith in the social world was restored every time i hung out with him.
i walked into his bedroom right behind him, closing the door right behind me. i remember my eyes enlarged twice their normal size as i glanced around his room, looking at the dozens of posters and magazine clip-outs covering every inch of his bedroom walls; metal rock bands that looked scary and demented to me, images of skateboarders flippin' bunnies-in-hats on handrails, pictures of his friends. he opened the blinds to his bedroom and plopped down next to his boombox. he grabbed one of the cd cases from his bed, yanked out the cd, and tossed the case in my direction.
"this is fucking FUNNY." he grinned.
i looked at the album cover. enter the wu-tang: 36 chambers. wu-tang clan. i counted seven people on the cover... but i couldn't make out any of their faces. but that Wu emblem... the famous W. it burned into my memory.
"check this out."
as he pressed play, i remember sitting next to the boombox, paying very close attention. in the background i heard a piano fading out, and a deep raspy voice coming on.
"yeah... torture, mothafucka, what..."
my cousin started laughing.
"i'll fucken... i'll fucken tie you to a fucken bedpost... with ya asscheeks spread out and shit, right? put a hanger on the fucken stove and let that shit sit there for like a half hour... take it off and stick it in ya ass slow, like... sssssssssssssssssssss...."
this was my first glimpse of east coast hip-hop music: method man talking about sodomizing someone with an ultra-hot metal hanger. i had no idea what that image would look like in reality... it sounded so absurd to me, i didn't even laugh. my cousin, on the other hand, rolled around on the floor.
i continued to listen carefully, imagining each scenario. someone beating on my nutsack with a spiked bat. someone stabbing my tongue with a rusty screwdriver. my cousin laughed as he looked at my face; i know that i felt shocked and nervous. i mean... people actually talk about doing that sorta stuff to other people?
method man's final scenario finally made me laugh.
"i'll fucken... i'll fucken... sew ya asshole closed and keep feeding you... and feeding you... and feeding you... and feeding you..."
i remember imagining a thin man with a horribly expanded torso tied to a chair, mouth being held open by plastic oral contraptions like when you're at the dentist, and a maniac wearing a hoodie with no face shoving spoonful after spoonful of gruel into this man's mouth. the whole image was so weird, it made me laugh.
as soon as the beat began, my cousin started the track all over again. it was funnier the second time around. it was hilarious the third time around. after a few times of playing it over and over, i had memorized the entire dialogue. i thought it was the crudest conversation i had ever heard. my mind had expanded into finding ludicrous torturous acts hilarious. in my mind, it was ok to laugh at such scenarios because they weren't possible. no human being would ever intentionally inflict such pain on another human being. it just wasn't possible. therefore, joking about it was ok.
i remember that eventually my cousin let the rest of the album play, and i remember feeling hypnotized and baffled by the kung-fu samples and the weird dusty production of the album. none of what these guys were saying made any sense to me. i couldn't understand how a person like old dirty bastard could ever be featured on a recording; the man sounded totally completely deranged. it was a very creepy and alien sound and style to me. i absolutely loved it.
though i didn't understand it (or even know it at the time), this album would prove to be a very pivotal point for me in my taste of hip-hop music in the years to come. in retrospect, i can now safely say that listening to this wu-tang release 14 years ago changed my life.
and for that, i'll always remember my cousin cesar. to this day, if i listen to enter the wu-tang at the right moment, i still get goosebumps.