Throw up some W's — for "Wow!"

Touch the tips of your thumbs together, spread your index fingers outward, and look at your hands. It's a "W."

That's what you should raise in the air to show appreciation during New York City hip-hop group Wu-Tang Clan's concert this Sunday at Showbox SoDo.

The legendary nine-man crew is touring behind "8 Diagrams," its first album in six years, which sounds way better than anyone could have reasonably expected.

The new album (produced, like the tour, by visionary Clan leader RZA) updates Wu-Tang's intentionally anti-mainstream artistic touchstones — fractured slang, elaborate mythology, dissonant left-field funk — with more guitars than usual (George Harrison's son Dhani plays on Beatles interpolation "The Heart Gently Weeps") and 2007's best use of R&B on a rap album (Gerald Alston, 66-year-old singer for the Manhattans, absolutely kills his part on "Stick Me for My Riches").

Though it could have been a nostalgic cash-in, "8 Diagrams" is ambitious and rewarding, a remarkably coherent psychedelic hip-hop record.

In 1993, the Clan's breakthrough debut album "Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)" shunned commercial viability for hardcore art and instantly spawned a massive, mythological, multiplatinum movement.

Devised by RZA, the plan was to scatter Clansmen across different record labels like rap terror cells in a Weathermen-style takeover. It started out like a great idea, but quality control diminished in the anarchy, eventually leading to an over-saturated rap market filled with half-strength Wu-projects.

Spread too thin, Wu-Tang lost credibility even as solo artists thrived. Method Man became a movie star, Ghostface turned into the best rapper alive and RZA produced the stunning "Kill Bill" soundtracks. But the Wu-Tang Clan — as in "a rap group that records and tours" — was finished.

Showing the love

The nine current Clansmen (still nine: Old Dirty Bastard died last year [R.I.P.], but Cappadonna fills his place) are mostly drug-damaged, backbiting, notoriously hard-headed felons with varied solo careers and families to feed. Some make music together regularly and co-headline small tours, but others don't even speak to each other. Contrary to popular myth, they don't all live together like the Monkees.

But last summer in Seattle at Memorial Stadium, a hungry, at-capacity crowd rapped every word of their set. Not just the hits, like depressed, still chilling street narrative "C.R.E.A.M.," and not just star-power verses from Dirty or Method Man, but every word to every against-the-grain song. Adults, kids, rap fans and rock fans threw "W" hand signs high in the air, chanting "O.D.B.! R.I.P.!" with genuine respect. People went crazy for the vicious stomp of "Bring The Ruckus," and Method Man stage-dived into the crowd.

Seattle worshipped Wu-Tang at Bumbershoot, but Wu-Tang gave back just as much energy, ably exceeding expectations, blowing minds, and — judging by the hysteria — fulfilling lifelong wishes with energy and style.

Craving the Clan

The revitalization of Wu-Tang Clan is a welcome surprise in a strong year for 2007 hip-hop; for whatever reason, people are craving the Clan's dark, rambunctious, never dumbed-down style, and RZA & Co. are smartly delivering the goods.

"We come back like Jesus when the whole world need us." — RZA, "Reunited."

Andrew Matson contributes to Seattle hip-hop sites www.raindrophustla.blogspot.com and www.206proof.com. Reach him at matson.andrew@gmail.com.