The story of Ol' Dirty Bastard was never destined to end well. For almost 12 years, he careened in and out of public consciousness in spectacular style. Strange arrests, stranger nicknames, elaborate pranks and one of the most flamboyant rap styles of all-time combined to shape the distinctive persona of ODB. And yesterday, with the same unpredictability as all his other maneuvers, the clown prince of hip-hop passed away after collapsing in a New York City recording studio.
Born Russell Jones in Brooklyn, the rapper first made his mark as a member of the seminal New York-based rap outfit the Wu-Tang Clan, when they released their influential first album Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). The success of the album paved the way for individual acclaim for many of the group's members, but it was ODB on that original album who most crafted an individual identity in the studio.
On tracks like \Da Mystery of Chessboxin',"" he introduced himself with wild, extended vocal flourishes that always sounded improvised. While more polished group members, like GZA and Raekwon, were straightforward and often menacing in their styles, ODB was the constantly unpredictable member, which in many ways made him scariest. He was comic relief, but this endless joking came from a man who survived bullet wounds to the stomach back when 50 Cent was still in grade school.
This unpredictability showed in equal parts in the world of hip-hop and in the well-publicized lunacy of ODB's many appearances on the 10 o'clock news. In a golden era of hip-hop in the mid to late-1990s, ODB was a constantly collaborative artist. While his own solo work was maddeningly inconsistent, ODB lent flavor and distinction to a diverse group of hits, ranging from a remix of Mariah Carey's ""Fantasy"" to Pras and Mya's ""Ghetto Supastar,"" which reportedly only featured him because he happened to walk by the studio during recording.
Off the microphone, ODB was just as unpredictable. After a live performance of ""Ghetto Supastar,"" he told a live TV audience that from then on, he was to be named Big Baby Jesus. And in another TV appearance, he arrived at a welfare office to pick up his check-after riding there in a limo. But his unpredictability became tragic as often as it was entertaining.
After getting shot yet again, being arrested for crimes that included shoplifting and drug charges, and storming the stage at the Grammy Awards after not winning, the comedy of ODB's life had waned and the tragic ending seemed inevitable. And yesterday, that end point arrived.
The wild excess of his vocal style and the eccentric, stuttered rhymes he lent to Wu-Tang and other artists' tracks never seemed contrived or fake. ODB always appeared to be a talented, but genuinely bizarre character. For someone who so frequently rapped about himself in the third person, his weirdness always added up to more than self-promotion. Unfortunately, Ol' Dirty Bastard's unabashed eccentricity was a symptom of a troubled public figure. And now, a great talent and one of the most influential and entertaining rappers ever to rock the mic has been lost at the age of 35.
