‘Wu-Tang Clan is forever’: RZA on revolutionising hip hop

For more than three decades, Wu-Tang Clan have existed somewhere between a rap group and a mythology. What began on Staten Island in the early 1990s – nine MCs, kung-fu films, dusty soul samples and a radically new approach to hip hop – grew into one of the most influential collectives the genre has ever seen. The group rewrote the rules of rap careers, building a network of solo projects that made each member a star in their own right while still orbiting around the Wu universe.

Now, more than 30 years after Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) first rattled speakers in 1993, the group are preparing to take a final bow. Their farewell run, titled The Final Chamber, began in North America last summer with a 27-date arena tour that exceeded expectations, proving that legacy hip-hop tours can still fill stadiums. This month, the tour arrives in Europe, including a stop at London’s O2 Arena on March 17 before continuing to Manchester and beyond.

When we speak with RZA on how it feels preparing for a tour framed as a farewell, he pauses for a moment before answering. “I hate to use the word bittersweet,” he says, almost amused by how often it comes up. “Because that’s what everybody else is saying. But there’s definitely a feeling of completion. A feeling of gratitude. There’s nostalgia. And there’s also the feeling of – I’ll just use the simple English word – wow.” He laughs. “Like how much time has passed and how long this journey has been in our music careers.”

Wu-Tang Clan have never been a conventional group. Over the years, members have balanced solo albums, film roles, businesses and families, often moving in and out of the collective orbit. The idea of all of them committing to a unified farewell tour once seemed unlikely. But the Final Chamber tour brings them back together again, one last time. For RZA, the intention is simple: to close the circle with the fans who’ve supported them since the beginning.

“Having a chance to make a decision to unify as a crew and go back out and say thank you to all our fans,” he says. “A lot of different emotions are popping up.” Revisiting songs that have been part of people’s lives for decades inevitably changes the way those songs feel. But some, RZA says, have proved strangely timeless. “If you take a song like C.R.E.A.M., you realise that the world still operates in that same mind state,” he says. “Even though it’s not cash anymore, right? It’s digital now. But the idea that money rules everything around us is ironic but real.”

Other songs have evolved in ways he couldn’t have anticipated when they were first written. One track that now carries a completely different weight is Can It Be All So Simple, a reflective highlight from the group’s debut album. When it was first released, the song looked back nostalgically at childhood and early struggles. Today it feels more like something else. “Now it’s almost like a wish than a question,” RZA says. “Like – can it be simple?”

On this tour, the song has taken on an even deeper meaning. The group performs it as a tribute to Ol’ Dirty Bastard, one of Wu-Tang’s most charismatic and unpredictable members, who passed away in 2004. “When we use that song now, we don’t even do the raps,” RZA explains. “We just let the sample play.” He pauses again. “To be quite honest with you, I’m not shy to share that, for almost three nights in a row, there’s been tears backstage.”

The emotional weight of the tour comes partly from a contradiction that sits at the heart of Wu-Tang mythology. One of the group’s most famous declarations – repeated in songs, tattoos and graffiti tags for decades – is simple: Wu-Tang is forever. So how does a farewell tour fit into that? “When we say Wu-Tang is forever, we know that,” RZA says. “And then now we have a Final Chamber tour.” He acknowledges the paradox openly. “So what do those two things mean together? Do they contradict each other?... I think they do... But I think in a way that only Wu can do.”

If Wu-Tang was able to inspire someone to laugh, to rebel, to accept something, to fight, or even just to let something go – that’s a blessing

Part of what makes the tour so poignant is the absence of members who are no longer here. When the first leg of the tour travelled across North America last year, the spirit of Ol’ Dirty Bastard was never far from the stage. “This journey started in America and ODB was almost at every date he could be at,” RZA says. Now, as the tour moves across Europe, that absence becomes even more tangible. “One of the founders of this journey will not be here,” he reflects. “And that makes this moment very unique.”

For British fans, the tour also marks the return of a group that has always shared a special relationship with the UK. Long before hip hop dominated global charts, Wu-Tang’s music found passionate audiences in Britain and helped them maintain their record deal with Sony at the time. “The UK welcomed us with open arms from the early days,” RZA says. He remembers those early trips vividly: packed rooms, raw energy and crowds who seemed to understand the group’s chaotic, cinematic sound immediately.

“I remember being in the clubs and feeling that energy in the UK,” he says. “And then eventually coming back to play bigger stages.” Over time, the UK audience became an important part of Wu-Tang’s global story. “Seeing the fans continue to support us and grow with us has been amazing.” At certain moments, that support even helped shape the group’s trajectory. When the collective released their 2000 album The W, the response overseas helped keep the project alive commercially. “When we dropped that album, the UK sparked things,” he says. “‘Gravel Pit’ was a big hit here.”

The influence Wu-Tang Clan have had on hip-hop culture is difficult to measure. Their impact stretches far beyond music, touching fashion, film, philosophy and even the way artists structure their careers. But when asked which newer artists carry something of the Wu-Tang spirit today, RZA mentions a group he discovered online: Coast Contra. “They embody the hip-hop culture the way Wu did,” he says. What he recognises in them isn’t just lyrical skill, but something deeper – the chemistry of a collective. “They’ve got that brotherhood.” That dynamic was central to Wu-Tang’s own creative process.

But while fans often romanticise the group’s unity, RZA says the reality was often more competitive. “We were competitive against each other,” he says.  But that competition had a purpose. “We were competitive to help each other. We’d tell you straight – ‘that verse ain’t working, bro’.” The aim was always to push each other higher. “Each one of us wanted to make sure the other one was dope.”

Behind Wu-Tang’s music sits RZA’s distinctive production style – a raw, cinematic sound built from soul samples, kung fu dialogue and eerie piano lines. Asked what principles guided his work across decades of albums, his answer is simple. “Originality.” He explains that he always tried to avoid repeating himself musically. “When you go through my catalogue, even though it all sounds like me, it’s very diverse,” he says. He starts listing examples almost instinctively. “‘M-E-T-H-O-D Man’ don’t sound like ‘Tearz’. And ‘Liquid Swords’ don’t sound like ‘Ironman’.” Yet despite the differences, the identity remains unmistakable. “It’s the same guy behind it.”

Another creative principle he values is spontaneity. “I like what I call spontaneous combustion,” he says. “Let the art flow freely.” That mindset has led him into unexpected creative spaces over the years, from directing films to composing orchestral music and even working on ballet productions. “I did a whole ballet,” he says with a laugh. “And I was cool with doing that.” For RZA, artistic growth is about constantly expanding what you’re capable of. “You start off painting a piece of fruit,” he says. “Then eventually maybe you paint a whole chapter.”

When the conversation turns to legacy – a word that inevitably follows artists with careers as long and influential as Wu-Tang’s – he seems less interested in defining it than in reflecting on what the group may have sparked in others. Instead of trying to summarise the group’s impact, he focuses on something simpler. “I hope we were able to inspire.” Inspiration, he explains, is something internal – the moment when something moves you to act. “If Wu-Tang was able to inspire someone to laugh, to rebel, to accept something, to fight, or even just to let something go – that’s a blessing.”

We were competitive to help each other. We’d tell you straight — ‘that verse ain’t working, bro’

For RZA himself, inspiration came from unlikely places. Hip hop shaped his worldview, but so did kung-fu films, which he famously skipped school to watch in New York cinemas. “Kung-fu movies inspired me to cut school and go sit in the theatre,” he says. Those movies became an informal education, shaping the philosophy and storytelling that later defined Wu-Tang’s music. “And if we were able to do that for somebody else,” he says, “that’s a blessing.”

In the end, though, the legacy he thinks about most isn’t artistic at all. “As a father, I pray that I’ve been a good father, a good husband, a good man,” he says. “So that the people who came from me can walk with their head up and say, yeah, I come from a good batch.”

When Wu-Tang Clan step onto the stage at the O2 Arena in London this month, they’ll be carrying more than 30 years of hip-hop history with them. But the atmosphere will likely feel less like an ending and more like a gathering; one final moment for a group and their audience to celebrate everything that came before. “There’s nostalgia,” RZA says again. “And gratitude.”

Wu-Tang may always insist they’re forever. But for one final tour, the chamber closes just long enough to say thank you.