DIZZEE RASCAL

Given I am fairly blatantly operating on a different level from the lifestyle glamourised by American hip hop stars it is a welcome relief to be able to direct my empathy towards a fellow young British man rapping about 'wots relly 'appenin'. One might possibly interject that, despite being trapped within the same shores and by the same vacuously parasitic media, me and Dizzee aren't exactly brothers in all but name. Sadly, I didn't have the dubious joy of growing up in a barren sink estate in one of London's deprived boroughs and it would be as a mere non-compliant voter that I could possibly be deemed a 'problem for Anthony Blair'. That said, there are of course doubts of even Dizzee's authenticity, with it often pointed out that although it was a great achievement to record such an accomplished debut in his bedroom, one must pause to wonder exactly how many similar council flats have easy access to Pro-Tools and an Apple Mac. In any event, Dizzee first came to my attention, as he no doubt did to the rest of the white middle-class music lovers, when he came from nowhere to beat Radiohead's admittedly 'could-do-better' 2003 effort Hail to the Thief and win that year's Mercury Music Prize. I didn't like hip hop at the time so I failed to get enthused by the sudden exponential interest in UK garage. In fact, I still don't really know what UK garage is but I am at least consistent in still regarding the Streets as a big pile of crap, even if the music media continue to gasp at Mike Skinner riding naked through the streets of Shoreditch. Unlike Skinner, this stuff is undoubtedly raw, abrasive, and, at times, pretty awesome. Dizzee's mockney twang might initially be amusing but his articulate fluidity and high speed fluency soon forces one to realise just how impressive his MCing actually is. Unsurprisingly, his DJ skills are perhaps a little one-dimensional as over 15 songs one often struggles to last the course through one grating bleepy electro assault to the next. Although UK garage has of course been roundly lampooned, notably by Noel Fielding in the Mighty Boosh, it is to Dizzee's credit that he stays on the right side of post-modernism long enough to ensure he never takes himself too seriously. On the one hand, although the line 'I socialise in Hackney and Bow/I wear my trousers ridiculously low' does in fact capture a snapshot of a section of London's youth it does so in such a way as to be disgeniously disarming. Dizzee brags about himself as much as gansta rap's greatest egos but he does so with just the right level of irony so that he never comes across as a moronic, self-deluded prig. It is also amusing to hear him over-dramatise the musical accompaniment, with the ludicrous operatic hook of "Jus' a Rascal" and the infectious and entertaining climatic boy-girl duel on "I Luv U". The show-stopper, though, is of course the now legendary "Fix Up, Look Sharp", which should be regarded as one of the true highpoints of British hip hop. The earth-shattering percussion combines perfectly with the soul vocal samples to provide Dizzee with his funkiest break-beat, all kicked off perfectly with his ASBO-induced 'Oi!'. I have no real idea what it is about but as a signature tune it was the perfect way for the little rascal to make his entrance on the scene. Although he failed to really capitalise on the success of this album he remains one of British hip hop's leading stars and it is refreshing that one of this decade's finest and freshest rap albums should have originated from my home turf. It might be a long way from the Bronx in the mid-eighties but it goes to show hip hop as a genre still has some life left in it.

2005's Showtime offered more of the same for Raskit, a generally uncompromising blast of urban life, with one truly great track - the retro electronic bounce of "Stand Up Tall". The album cemented his reputation without necessarily boosting it. Unfortunately, his efforts to promote himself in the States were deemed unsatisfactory by his label and his third effort was tellingly released in digital format only (the equivalent of a film going straight to DVD), although this arguably precipitates a fall in sales, rather than countering one. In any event, it is a disappointing and, perhaps, inappropriate move from his label as, despite the quintessentially British title (the only two subjects that are compulsory at school up until GCSE level), this is by far his most commercial, Americanised release and, not coincidentally, his best. Dizzee had become the face of UK grime, which otherwise was still underground, and his rivals were vocal in dismissing his success as selling-out. Instead of trying to reinforce his creds with even more gritty, bloopy, distorted hip hop Dizzee spun the bird (as can be seen on the back cover to the album) and played his rivals off at their own game. This album is unapologetically commercial. It is also unashamedly diverse, as Dizzee spins his hand at all manner of hip-hop sub-genres and homages. The collaborations are well-documented, particularly within the British scene as Raskit cozies up to two of the media darlings of the indie scene, in the form of the Arctic Monkeys and Lily Allen. Unfortunately, the former ("Temptation") just doesn't quite cut it. Alex Turner's vocals sound out of place and although the ripped up sample of the distinctive Monkeys' twang is clever the rapping itself is instantly forgettable. That said, "So You Wanna Be a Gangster" is far less forgettable and, unfortunately, far worse. Lily Allen is, of course, one of the singlest most irritating figures in Britain (come back Keith - all is forgiven!) and the sub-music hall trilling is her at her absolute most irritating (as you might expect from a private-schooled southerner prattling on about 'bling'). Unfortunately, Dizzee must share the blame as something so ill-conceived was surely conceived by him and the whole excruciating exercise must have had his rivals braying with glee. Given we've started at the bottom I will also throw in the ridiculously puerile "Suck My Dick" as a further example of Dizzee's immaturity tarnishing proceedings (not that it isn't a common trait on most hip-hop albums). "So You Wanna Be a Gangster" is, of course, markedly British and, as already suggested, it is actually the Americanisms on here that make this album so impressive. The collaboration with US rappers UGK (personally, I've never heard of them although I initially thought they were Outkast) "Where's Da G's" is a brilliant mock-up of gansta rap and UK grime and although the sections with Dizzee and UGK sound like two different songs the switch is seamless. The songs generally capture the incongruity of someone so distinctly rooted in London influenced so much by classic American hip-hop and it is to Dizzee's eternal credit that the whole thing sounds so authentic. "Da Feelin'" is a gloriously cheesey ode to summer, an attempt to rival Will Smith's "Summertime" or Tupac's "California", but still quintessentially rooted in Britain and, specifically, the 'LDN' (that's London to the rest of you). Unlike his previous material, Dizzee is relentlessly upbeat, climaxing with his defiant 'you know you ain't gonna catch me out in Ibiza again' (he is still the only Mercury Music prize winner to have been stabbed on holiday). "Sirens" is barely anything more than a rap-metal onslaught, a take-off from Jay-Z's "99 Problems" - itself allegedly a product of "Fix Up, Look Sharp" - and a brilliant one at that. Dizzee also tries his hand at the 'diss' with the excellent "Pussyole", a torrent of abuse based around the traditional hip hop blue-print of "It Takes Two". It is perhaps a little risky to rip a rival MC with such a blatantly familiar sample but it is evidence of Dizzee's defiant determination in no longer being tied down by the restrictive authenticity of one particular movement. In fact, it is fair to say Dizzee is barely a grime artist at all on the basis of this release. Only the bouncing, bloopy "Bubbles" and the violently confrontational closer, "You Can't Teach Me Nothing" reflect former glories and, even then, they are sleeker and more listenable. Frankly, if this album is an attempt by Dizzee to bring himself face-to-face with the likes of Jay-Z or even Nas, he deserves at least a fair crack at it, seemingly denied by his record label. He might distinctively remain a product of the LDN but the quality of his material is global. To see him take on the commercial behemoths the other side of the Atlantic and, for the most part, burn them off with his youth and talent makes me feel bizarrely but nonetheless defiantly patriotic.

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Email me at: jackfeeny@yahoo.co.uk