Maybe it was the way that, shortly after we shook hands and said goodbye, he marched into traffic – with cars honking and swerving all around him – and disappeared into the blare of rush-hour.Įven as a naive teenager, that encounter felt like a glimpse into a world of which I had no real understanding or experience. Maybe it was the curtain of bloodshot pink that hung halfway over his right eye, so thick that you couldn't see through it. Maybe it was the way he drifted off on a tangent too difficult to follow. I can't pretend there was no sign of it that day. Long before he passed away from an accidental overdose in 2004, two days short of his 36th birthday, his merits as an artist became increasingly overshadowed by his reputation for erratic behaviour. Apart from the occasional sliver of information that slipped through, all I had to go on was the music.Īs that began to change, Dirty's life turned into headline material. Streaming updates about artists and their antics had yet to become all-pervasive. I didn't realise any of that at the time. He'd been in jail, shot at several times and was under surveillance by the FBI. Dirty's demeanour seems all the more remarkable now, looking back, considering the difficulties he was struggling with. He indulged me graciously, laughing when I tried to persuade him to visit Ireland, filling me in on his plans for a new album. Dirty paused for a beat, gazing at me intently, before replying: "Well, I love you too!"Īll these years later, I still can't imagine a better response. I could feel myself trembling, so unsure of what was happening that I said it again. The words just blurted out, tumbling to an awkward halt. Instead some primitive impulse took over, compelling me to stride up to the man and exclaim: "Dirty. So when our paths happened to cross that afternoon, I didn't stop to think the situation through. As a teenager growing up in Ireland, floundering for an identity of my own, the weird world of Dirty felt like a perfect fit. The man seemed fearless: immune to criticism, impervious to judgement. With his completely wacky and twisted lyrics, he is ultimately as funny as he is scary, or even disturbing.His music felt so unapologetically eccentric, so brazenly unself-conscious, that some of that exuberance rubbed off on you just by listening. With his alcoholic and unstable flow and his hoarse voice, he adds grumblings, mumblings, lispings, but nevertheless we follow him in his delirium, he is bewitching. Simply because it is his personality, his madness is not played, it is not overdone, it is natural. However, he has something unique, something only he is able to do. I even suspect that there is some improvisation in his songs. It’s a mess.Įven lyrically, he’s far from having a fine style and polished writing. He just trusts his instincts, he raps as he pleases, and most of the time, you can barely understand what he’s saying. A hybrid between the two? Again, not really. Ol Dirty Bastard doesn’t really rap, but he doesn’t really sing either. If he can be close to a Redman, the comparison does not really hold, he is much less structured, with a less devastating flow. Ol Dirty Bastard is a strange and unique energetic, a style like we never saw before. If he brings a lot in a group album, are we able to listen to him on a whole album? What does he have to offer? What can justify that he comes second in this wave of solo? Where is his talent hidden?Īn unstable rapped/sung flow intermingled with grumbling He also doesn’t have the pen and the diction of a Ghostface, GZA or Raekwon. If he undeniably surpasses Method Man in madness and spontaneity, he doesn’t have his charisma and flow. Among the key members of the Wu, he is probably the least marketable and bankable. That Ol Dirty Bastard comes in second is already much more surprising. That Method Man comes first in this wave of solo albums makes sense, he was the one with the most aura, the most charisma, one of the best flow, and also one of the most fan-favorite member, while having a degree of craziness and spontaneity.
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