…Goldie Locks, whose vocal might is enough to turn JJ Fad-esque skipping songs about Sainsbury’s into an apocalyptic wonkstep of the highest calibre (Exhibit B: "the kids ain’t got nothing to do, messed up prime-minist-ah, no we’re not hating on you but it’s all pretty sinist-ah").
…Goldie Locks, whose vocal might is enough to turn JJ Fad-esque skipping songs about Sainsbury’s into an apocalyptic wonkstep of the highest calibre (Exhibit B: "the kids ain’t got nothing to do, messed up prime-minist-ah, no we’re not hating on you but it’s all pretty sinist-ah").
Mr Gav’s July Dance-floor Round Up
V/A – Adulthood OST (Altered Ego) http://www.myspace.com/adulthoodthemovie
The Bug – London Zoo (Ninja Tune) http://www.myspace.com/thebuguk
"Warning, warning!" it begins. Danger, bumpy road, lo-fi trackers ahead, grime-players at work, hooks crossing, mind the kitchen sink drama, I’ll stop shall I? What we have here is a near-perfect snapshot of the UK rap scene as it currently stands, not the real deal but a neat little version for the supermarket crowd.
Now, I am not the man for this job. In fact I’m so un-streetwise that if I even say the word ‘ends’ out loud a dull thud manifests this air of peculiarity, bothering passers-by. But, like everyone I suppose, the all-elbows, stammering vocalisations of these young whippersnappers have wormed their way into my ends (see?). Intricately knitted hop-skip-jumpery pirhouetting around gun-cock sfx, the human voice as a drum kit flinging out a trail of words to make Dr Seuss look like a red top journo flailing at the page with a snapped wax crayon. Cringeworthy references aside, what we have here is nothing short of remarkable. A collection of custom-designed pop nuggets concerning nought but the minutiae of life, from The Clik Clik’s bouncy new-rave distraction about trainers, to girls next door Eliza Doolittle and Kerry-Anne Leatham snatching soulfulness back from the repulsive little hands of Jools Holland (Exhibit A: "and you’ve squeezed every last morsel of love out of me and left a bitter crusted shell").
But more than anything the spirit of Adulthood lies in the machine-like spit (sorry) of all these bored people; in grime godfather Wiley’s confident authority, Sway’s hilarious girl / boy interchange F Ur Ex, and Goldie Locks, whose vocal might is enough to turn JJ Fad-esque skipping songs about Sainsbury’s into an apocalyptic wonkstep of the highest calibre (Exhibit B: "the kids ain’t got nothing to do, messed up prime-minist-ah, no we’re not hating on you but it’s all pretty sinist-ah"). Admittedly the aftertaste is slightly sour. There’s a fair amount of ego-flexing, sexism and heaps of aggression on offer, but what one or two of these musicians may lack in social grace is more than made up for with the massive range of colours on their sound palette. Conversely, The Bug’s new gathering of London MCs is slathered in deep red, navy blue and that funny sort of yellow that only seems to exist on sherbet dib-dab packets. They’re a bit rougher around the edges, this lot. Real characters. Been around a while, you see.
In contrast to the grime scene’s hyper-active scrabble-thon, simple turns of phrase rumble the capital’s foundations, shaking out little stories of discomfort, alienation and seething rage (Exhibit C: "all them fucking people who believes that charity begins at home, look here mister, look at the state of your home"). Beneath London Zoo’s tantalising sleeve art lies an echoey mess of mutant dancehall troubled by outside noise; radio fuzz, electrical interference, the dull whirr of traffic, all shrouded in dark clouds. Hardly surprising that Kevin Martin is so haunted by the ghosts of dubstep when you consider this, his ode to the wives and lives of Laaaaahndan Tarrrn, a place for which Burial’s debut played out a real life score.
A welcome succession of characters stride from the primordial ooze one by one to exorcise their demons regarding the endless sprawl of council buildings and overblown tourist attractions that make up their smoky skyline. Voices as disparate as Hyperdub poet-in-residence The Spaceape, Roll Deep members Killa P and Flowdan, and Jamaican powerhouse Warrior Queen whose Poison Dart is truly a sound to get lost in (Exhibit D: "me no hit, me no miss, me no run when hit the trigger"), just another notch on the splintered bedpost of tracks improved tenfold by her possessed vocal hook-fest. A brief moment of relief arrives with the carnival drums of Freak Freak, the sole instrumental which brings to mind a cracklier Brian Eno punctuated by clicks and clacks, and recent shapes by fellow visionary Flying Lotus. The higher tones begin to swelter, and a steamy hiss rises from nowhere as the beat slivers away to stark silence. Have you ever been inside a turned on microwave?