This is one of two videos for Kiss and Tell. Both videos features Ferry performing the song while model Mandy Smith and Christine Keeler pose for the camera. (Smith was the wife of Rolling Stone Bill Wyman while Christine Keeler was at the center of the Profumo Affair, which brought down Harold Macmillan’s government in 1963.) However, the second version of the video also featured scenes from the film adaptation of Jay McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City.
As can be seen in the video, Michael J. Fox played the cocaine-addled main character in the film. It was a largely unsuccessful attempt to change Fox’s clean-cut image and the film struggled at the box office. However, both the song and and the video proved to be very popular on MTV. The video was nominated for Best Video From A Film at the MTV Video Music Awards, though it lost to Los Lobos’s video for La Bamba.
36 Chambers by the Wu-Tang Clan isn’t just an album—it’s a cultural earthquake that reshaped hip-hop forever. Released in 1993, this debut project introduced a raw, unfiltered sound that felt like a direct transmission from the streets of Staten Island to the rest of the world. The album’s title, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), hints at its cinematic scope, blending martial arts mythology with the gritty reality of New York City life. From the opening skit to the final fade-out, 36 Chambers is a masterclass in storytelling, lyrical dexterity, and sonic innovation, all wrapped in a haze of dusty samples and hard-hitting beats.
The production on 36 Chambers is a character unto itself. RZA’s beats are lo-fi in the best way possible—gritty, bass-heavy, and layered with samples that feel like they were dug up from a forgotten record crate. Tracks like Bring da Ruckus and Protect Ya Neck kick off with a ferocity that immediately establishes the Wu-Tang Clan as a force to be reckoned with. The beats aren’t polished; they’re rough around the edges, but that rawness is what gives the album its timeless quality. RZA’s use of soul samples, particularly from old kung fu movies and obscure funk records, creates a soundscape that feels both nostalgic and fresh. It’s as if the album is simultaneously paying homage to the past while forging a new path forward.
Lyrically, 36 Chambers is a tour de force. The Wu-Tang Clan’s collective talent is on full display, with each member bringing their own distinct flavor to the table. Method Man’s hypnotic flow on Method Man is a standout, showcasing his ability to weave intricate rhymes with a laid-back yet commanding delivery. Raekwon’s verse on Protect Ya Neck is another highlight, as he effortlessly rides the beat with a mix of bravado and precision. Ghostface Killah’s storytelling on Tearz is both poignant and vivid, painting a picture of struggle and resilience that resonates deeply. Even the lesser-known members of the clan at the time, like Inspectah Deck and U-God, deliver verses that hold their own against the more prominent voices. The chemistry among the group is undeniable, and their ability to trade bars seamlessly makes the album feel like a cohesive unit rather than a collection of solo performances.
What makes 36 Chambers so special is its unpredictability. The album doesn’t follow a traditional structure, with skits and interludes scattered throughout that add to its cinematic feel. Songs like C.R.E.A.M. and Can It Be All So Simpleprovide moments of introspection amidst the chaos, offering a glimpse into the struggles and aspirations of the group’s members. C.R.E.A.M., in particular, is a classic that transcends hip-hop, with its universal themes of money, family, and the pursuit of a better life. Raekwon’s delivery on the track is hauntingly beautiful, and the chorus—“Cash rules everything around me”—has become one of the most iconic lines in rap history.
The influence of 36 Chambers on hip-hop cannot be overstated. Before this album, the rap game was dominated by a more polished, radio-friendly sound. Wu-Tang Clan came in and flipped the script, proving that raw talent and authenticity could resonate just as strongly—if not more so—than a glossy, commercial approach. The album’s success paved the way for a new wave of artists who prioritized lyricism and originality over mainstream appeal. Groups like A Tribe Called Quest and De La Soul had already laid the groundwork for alternative hip-hop, but Wu-Tang Clan took it to another level, inspiring countless artists to embrace their uniqueness and reject industry norms.
Moreover, 36 Chambers helped popularize the concept of the rap collective. The Wu-Tang Clan wasn’t just a group; it was a movement, a family of artists who supported and elevated each other. This model influenced countless other collectives, from the Native Tongues to Odd Future, who saw the value in collaboration and shared creative vision. The album also played a significant role in bringing hip-hop to a global audience, as its universal themes and innovative sound transcended regional boundaries. Fans from all over the world connected with the Wu-Tang Clan’s music, and the group’s influence can be heard in the work of artists from every corner of the globe.
One of the most remarkable things about 36 Chambers is how well it has aged. While many albums from the early ‘90s feel dated in hindsight, this one still sounds fresh and vital. The production holds up, the lyrics remain sharp, and the energy is as infectious as it was over three decades ago. It’s a testament to the Wu-Tang Clan’s vision and execution that 36 Chambers continues to be celebrated as one of the greatest hip-hop albums of all time. The album’s legacy is evident in the countless homages, samples, and references it has inspired in the years since its release. From Kendrick Lamar to J. Cole, modern rap artists continue to draw inspiration from the Wu-Tang Clan’s groundbreaking work.
Beyond its musical contributions, 36 Chambers also had a profound cultural impact. The album’s cover art, featuring the Wu-Tang Clan logo and a collage of images that evoke both martial arts and street life, has become iconic. The group’s aesthetic—rooted in Shaolin philosophy, street wisdom, and a DIY ethos—resonated with a generation of fans who were looking for something real in a world that often felt artificial. Wu-Tang Clan’s authenticity was their superpower, and 36 Chambers was the ultimate expression of that authenticity.
The album’s impact extends beyond music and culture—it also changed the business of hip-hop. The Wu-Tang Clan’s decision to release 36 Chambers independently, without the backing of a major label, was a bold move that paid off handsomely. The album’s success proved that artists could maintain creative control while still achieving commercial success, a lesson that has been taken to heart by countless independent artists in the years since. The Wu-Tang Clan’s model of self-reliance and entrepreneurial spirit has become a blueprint for aspiring musicians looking to carve their own path in the industry.
Revisiting 36 Chambers today, it’s clear that the album’s magic lies in its imperfections. The beats aren’t pristine, the mixing isn’t flawless, and the delivery isn’t always polished—but that’s precisely what makes it so compelling. The album feels alive, like a snapshot of a moment in time when a group of talented, hungry artists came together to create something truly special. It’s an album that demands to be experienced in full, from start to finish, with all its quirks and idiosyncrasies intact.
In the end, 36 Chambers is more than just an album—it’s a movement. It’s a testament to the power of creativity, collaboration, and staying true to oneself. The Wu-Tang Clan didn’t just make music; they created a legacy that continues to inspire and influence new generations of artists and fans. Whether you’re a lifelong hip-hop head or a casual listener, 36 Chambers is an essential listen, a timeless piece of art that captures the essence of what makes rap so powerful. It’s rough, it’s raw, and it’s real—just like the Wu-Tang Clan themselves.
Today, the Shattered Lens wishes a happy birthday to the actor and musician Keith Carradine. Our song of the day is a song that Carradine wrote for and performed in the 1975 film, Nashville.
In 1989, Richard Marx was so busy touring that director Jim Yukich was forced to go with a simple approach to the video for Right Here Waiting. The footage of Marx performing the song in an empty auditorium was filmed in Los Angeles during a soundcheck. Black-and-white tour footage was then added to turn that soundcheck into a music video. Though the video was simple by necessity, it also captured the loneliness of being on the road and separated from your significant other.
Right Here Waiting was the second single off of Marx’s second studio album, Repeat Offender. He wrote the song for his then-wife Cynthia Rhodes, who was shooting a film in South Africa. It went on to become one of Marx’s biggest hits and is still regularly covered by other artists.
DMX’s debut album, It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot, is a raw, unfiltered masterpiece that announced Earl Simmons as a force to be reckoned with in the late 90s hip-hop scene. Released in 1998, the album didn’t just introduce DMX to the world—it thrust him into the spotlight as one of the most compelling and uncompromising voices in rap. At a time when hip-hop was oscillating between commercial polish and underground grit, DMX’s voice cut through with a raw intensity that felt both primal and poetic. His aggressive, dark lyricism and unfiltered delivery, often compared to the ferocity of a junkyard dog, drew immediate comparisons to Tupac Shakur. But DMX wasn’t just following in Pac’s footsteps; he was forging his own path, one that was as spiritually conflicted as it was street-savvy.
The undeniable centerpiece of It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot is Damien, a track that transcends the typical album intro. More than just a skit, Damien is a chilling, theatrical exploration of DMX’s internal struggles. From the moment the track begins, you’re pulled into a world where the line between reality and the supernatural blurs. DMX plays both himself and the demonic voice taunting him, creating a dialogue that feels as real as it is haunting. The track sets the tone for the entire album, framing DMX as a man at war with his own demons, his past, and forces beyond his control. It’s not just an introduction—it’s the emotional and thematic foundation of the album, a raw, unfiltered look into the mind of an artist who refuses to sugarcoat his pain. Damien isn’t just a highlight; it’s the heart of It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot, the moment where DMX’s genius for blending street narratives with deep introspection is on full display.
From the shadow of Damien emerges Ruff Ryders’ Anthem, the album’s lead single and a track that solidified DMX’s place in hip-hop history. Produced by Swizz Beatz, the beat is minimal but devastatingly effective, providing the perfect backdrop for DMX’s gravelly, commanding voice. Lines like “Stop being selfish / It’s dark and hell is hot” aren’t just catchy—they’re a mission statement, echoing the themes of struggle and redemption introduced in Damien. The song became an instant anthem, a rallying cry for the Ruff Ryders collective and a declaration to the hip-hop world that DMX was here to stay. But what makes Ruff Ryders’ Anthem truly special is how it balances raw aggression with moments of vulnerability. DMX isn’t just flexing; he’s baring his soul, and that duality is what makes the track resonate so deeply.
Get At Me Dog takes the energy of Ruff Ryders’ Anthem and amplifies it, doubling down on DMX’s signature aggression. The beat is menacing, and DMX’s flow is relentless, with every line delivered like a punch to the chest. Yet, beneath the bravado, there’s an undercurrent of pain, a reminder that DMX’s music is as much about survival as it is about dominance. The track’s hook, “You can’t get at me, dog,” is as much a defiant taunt as it is a declaration of resilience. It’s a perfect example of how DMX could blend street toughness with emotional depth, a theme that Damien introduces so powerfully.
Stop Being Greedy offers a moment of reflection amidst the album’s intensity. Over a hypnotic, bass-heavy beat, DMX delivers a sermon on loyalty and the dangers of avarice. The track feels like a street-level public service announcement, with DMX playing the role of both the sinner and the preacher. It’s a testament to his ability to weave moral lessons into his music without ever sounding preachy. Instead, he sounds like a man who’s lived through the fire and emerged with hard-earned wisdom, much like the lessons learned in the spiritual battle depicted in Damien.
The album’s introspective side shines on tracks like How’s It Goin’ Down and Look Thru My Eyes. These songs slow the tempo, allowing DMX to flex his melodic muscles and showcase his range as an artist. How’s It Goin’ Down is a masterclass in storytelling, with DMX painting vivid pictures of street life with a smooth yet raw delivery. It’s a reminder that DMX wasn’t just a one-dimensional artist; he could navigate different emotional landscapes while staying true to the dark, introspective themes that define It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot. These tracks feel like natural extensions of the internal conflict introduced in Damien, further solidifying the album’s emotional depth.
For My Dogs is another standout, blending street narratives with themes of brotherhood and survival. The beat is somber, almost mournful, and DMX’s lyrics match the mood, rapping about loss, betrayal, and the unbreakable bonds of loyalty. The track feels both personal and universal, a tribute to the crew that stood by him through the darkest times. It’s a theme that ties back to Damien, where the struggle for redemption and connection is so central.
No discussion of It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot would be complete without diving into The Convo and I Can Feel It. These tracks take the spiritual and psychological themes introduced in Damien even further. The Convo is a chilling depiction of a dialogue with the devil, with DMX playing both roles in a performance that’s as theatrical as it is raw. It’s a bold, unflinching look at the battle between good and evil within himself. I Can Feel It, on the other hand, is a haunting, introspective cut where DMX grapples with his own mortality and the weight of his sins. The vulnerability here is staggering, and it’s a testament to DMX’s fearlessness as an artist. He wasn’t afraid to show his scars, and that honesty is what made him so relatable to fans.
The production on It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot is another key element of its success. DMX worked with producers like Swizz Beatz, Dame Grease, and PK, who crafted beats that complemented his dark, atmospheric style. The production is stripped-down but hard-hitting, with heavy basslines and eerie melodies that enhance the album’s mood. There’s a rawness to the sound that mirrors DMX’s own approach to rapping, resulting in an album that feels cohesive and immersive. The beats serve as the perfect backdrop for DMX’s lyrics, amplifying the themes of struggle and redemption that Damien introduces so powerfully.
Lyrically, DMX was in a league of his own. His ability to weave complex themes into his verses without sacrificing his signature aggression was unmatched. He could go from barking like a madman to delivering a poignant one-liner in the span of a few bars, and it never felt forced. His wordplay was sharp, his metaphors vivid, and his delivery so full of emotion that it was impossible not to be drawn in. Whether he was rapping about street life, spiritual struggles, or personal demons, DMX had a way of making you feel like you were right there with him, experiencing every high and low. This is never more evident than in Damien, where his internal conflict is laid bare with a rawness that’s as captivating as it is unsettling.
The impact of It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot on the hip-hop landscape cannot be overstated. In an era dominated by polished, commercial sounds, DMX’s debut was a breath of fresh air—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically real. The album not only put DMX on the map as one of the rising stars of hip-hop, but it also cemented his place as one of the greats. His ability to blend street narratives with deep introspection set him apart from his peers and earned him a dedicated fanbase that would follow him throughout his career. The comparisons to Tupac were inevitable, as both artists had a rare ability to convey emotion in their music and tackle dark, complex themes. But where Pac was often seen as a revolutionary, DMX was more like a prophet of the streets, a man who had seen the worst of life and was determined to share his story, no matter how ugly. His music was a reflection of his own struggles, and that authenticity resonated with listeners in a way that few artists could match. Damien embodies this authenticity, standing as the emotional core of the album and a testament to DMX’s uncompromising vision.
It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot wasn’t just an album; it was a movement. It gave a voice to the voiceless and provided a soundtrack for those who felt like they were fighting their own personal battles. DMX’s debut was a statement of intent, a declaration that he was here to stay and that he wasn’t going to compromise his vision for anyone. The album’s success—both critically and commercially—proved that there was a hunger for real, unfiltered hip-hop, and DMX was more than happy to feed that hunger. Damien symbolizes this uncompromising vision, standing as a testament to the album’s enduring power.
In the years since its release, It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot has only grown in stature. It’s now widely regarded as one of the greatest debut albums in hip-hop history, and for good reason. From start to finish, the album is a masterclass in storytelling, lyricism, and raw emotion. DMX’s performance is electrifying, and the production provides the perfect backdrop for his dark, introspective lyrics. But more than that, the album is a testament to the power of authenticity. DMX didn’t try to be anyone else; he was unapologetically himself, and that’s what made It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot so special. Damien remains the highlight, a track that encapsulates everything that makes the album great—its rawness, its honesty, and its unflinching look at the darker side of the human experience.
Even now, more than two decades after its release, the album still feels fresh and relevant. Its themes of struggle, redemption, and survival are timeless, and DMX’s delivery ensures that every word hits with the same force it did back in 1998. It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot isn’t just a classic; it’s a blueprint for how to make an album that’s both commercially successful and artistically daring. DMX set the bar high with his debut, and he spent the rest of his career trying to live up to it—a testament to the enduring power of this remarkable record. For fans of hip-hop, It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot is essential listening, with Damien standing as its crowning achievement, the track that defines the album’s legacy.
This video was directed by Johan Renck, who performed under the name “Stakka Bo.” This video has been overshadowed by the video for Here We Go but, as far as I’m concerned, they’re both good videos that deserve more attention.
Today’s song of the day comes from David Bowie and it’s about Bowie’s fascination with Andy Warhol. Warhol himself apparently didn’t care for this song but Bowie meant it as a tribute.
This song came out in 1971. 25 years later, Bowie would play Andy Warhol in Basquiat.
Midnight Mover is the Accept song that wasn’t Balls to the Wall. I actually prefer Midnight Mover to Balls to the Wall as both a song and video but Midnight Mover was never featured on Beavis and Butt-Head and is lesser known as a result.
The song is about a drug dealer, one who moves his product at midnight. The video is mostly interesting as an early example of the “bullet time” technology that would later be made famous by The Matrix. Accept did it first!
The director also did videos for Pet Shop Boys, Replacements, Mick Jagger, Rush, and the Fat Boys, amongst others.
Through the Shattered Lens 