Going to this show was a reminder that they didn’t stop making wee guys in 2001 – the Wu-Tang Clan stopped recording hits after that, but the wee guy factory didn’t get the memo. Wee guys of all genders were out in force on Monday 12th June. They were getting chased through the crowd by security, spilling the beer of me and my fellow rap dads on the way. They were climbing on each other’s shoulders. They were happy to rock out in their undies even if they had raw bandages on their shoulders.

It’s okay. The wee guys get it. They’re fine.

The Wu are a heritage industry now. Since 2010 they’ve been co-authors of their own fan fiction: RZA’s a director, Ghostface is a comic book character, GZA is a professor, and Raekwon a contemporary rap star. The rap dads sometimes play along, ignoring the fact that nothing’s mattered outside of the odd guest verse for fucking forever. Somehow these thin developments help us pretend we’re not just shuffling about in clothes left to us by dead parents.

The wee guys didn’t give a fuck about any of that though. What the wee guys wanted to do was scream “WU! TANG!” over and over again, and mosh to ‘Bring Da Ruckus’ and ‘4th Chamber’. They wanted to put their Ws up when RZA tells them to. They wanted to throw their arms around each other and shout “Suuuuuuuuuu”, knowing that they’ve got each other’s back no matter how dumb the drama gets.

At the Hydro, the Wu-Tang Clan sold the idea that they were there for each other too. Or at least the ones who could make it did: RIP ODB, Meth, hope you enjoyed filming a Netflix special at Joe Biden’s house or whatever.

The Wu don’t always cover the gaps in each other’s breathing with back up vocals, they struggle to find space in a mix further muddled by a live band, and some of them seem not to have the energy for a full set (sorry Deck). It didn’t matter. For a couple of hours, you would have sworn these lads would fuck you up for looking at one of them wrong.

All it cost them to keep this going is two decades – time enough for wee guys to learn what they want from the Wu, and for rap dads to forget.

‘Gravel Pit’ was the most recent song in the setlist, and that hit number six in the UK charts when the ‘Bob the Builder’ single was the hottest thing in town. The death and disagreement that makes up the Wu-Tang story since ‘Bob the Builder’ cooled off? Like Meth, it wasn’t part of the “My peoples are you with me where you at?” experience.

In the end, we were all willing to go with that on the night, rap dads and wee guys alike. Sometimes we just need to believe we’re part of something bigger than ourselves, something eternal.

***

There were a few moments of contemporary truth during the Wu-Tang sets. RZA’s karaoke takes on ‘Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)’ and ‘Come Together’ were corny in the way 2023 RZA is corny. They were fantasies of wizened unity for a group that spends a lot of time taking itself to court, but you believe that RZA still sees things this way somehow. A hip-hop genius from 1993-1997, and a great producer for a decade after that, he’s no longer part of hip-hop and these moments reflect that break in taste and talent too.

RZA was alone on stage for these soft rock flexes, with the rest of the group joining him at the end. In this way, they served as a bridge between what we know to be true (RZA’s off on his own now) and what we want to be true (Wu-Tang Forever).

A less predictable truth: of the Wu-assassins present on the night, U-God’s verses were the most fun to shout along with. The wee guys enjoyed Dirt’s verses best, of course. ‘Shimmy Shimmy Ya’ and ‘Got Your Money’ were late set singalongs, with the crowd playing sex worker/invincible fuck monster like they do that every night of the week. The rap dads seemed more into Meth’s verses and who can blame them? If you shouted “MOVE IT ON YOUR LEFT!” right now you might even start to picture yourself as Clifford Smith in your mind.

U-God’s rhymes are simple compared to his brothers, but that’s part of the appeal here. His voice is big and brassy and easy to sing along with. It occupies a unique space in the mix. I don’t know how many people at the Hydro were intimately familiar with Golden Arms Redemption, or whether people were passing his biography around at the back.

I don’t know how many people enjoyed shouting “Raw I’ma give it to ya with no trivia/Raw like cocaine straight from Bolivia” as much as I did either. What I do know is, U-God was feeling it on stage. Standing there with a drink in one hand, waiting for the crowd to “Suuuuu” along with him, he looked like an eternal wee guy made good. If only for a minute there, the world was his.

The bond between Ghostface, Raekwon and Cappadona seems like a more lasting sort of truth. When Ghost and Rae leaned into each other on ‘Criminology’, it felt like love. When Ghost backed up Cap’s ’97 Mentality’ raps while dancing like he was watching a genie work its way out of a lamp, everyone else in the audience seemed incidental.

On ‘Can It Be All So Simple’, Ghost’s voice cracked the same way it did in 1993, the desperation of the fantasy still fitting him despite him having outgrown it. Ghost can make hits with Rae and A all day, and if he doesn’t have his own sess crops, he’s not short on ropey small businesses. Doesn’t matter, the dream is still hurts like it’s real.

Great as they were, these moments of truth weren’t the ones that got the biggest response from the Glasgow crowd. Their sense of brotherhood was grainy. It wanted close attention, something to blog about on your lunch break rather than something you could scream along with your fellow guys in the moment.

Songs from Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) proved the most resilient on the day. They’ve got hooks you can scream along to and beats that could start a fight in an empty car park. They send the wee guys wild, and reminded the rap dads of a time where they weren’t something to fuck with.