Cyclic Defrost Magazine

Posted: 22 Apr 2009 04:18 AM PDT

It's been over half a decade since Dizzee Rascals' Boy In Da Corner briefly brought grime, squinting and hissing, into the limelight, and already, the origin myths of the genre are being written. It has its cast of characters including Dizzee, Roll Deep, and Musical Mob, and, of course, it has a scene; the boroughs of East London. No doubt, with the UK having been bombarded by American hip-hop for nearly 20 years, most inhabitants of this island would patriotically tell the story of how London spawned a form of MCing that was quintessentially British. Nevertheless, maybe Limeys like me shouldn't get carried away with this tale; firstly, couldn't we see grime as just another media label that gets applied to a diverse and varied collection of artists? Secondly, do 'scenes' really exist, or are they generalisations based on the fact that a handful of influential artists can come sometimes sprout from the same place at the same time? Moving several hundred miles north of London to Manchester, I want to examine its artists, social issues and cultural heritage, too see whether generalising about genre and scenes help or hinder descriptions of the UK's urban music artists.

In a 2005 interview, Manchester music mogul Tony Wilson proclaimed that British rap was "inauthentic, utter bollocks", and that the black community in Manchester had "produced fuck all". To be fair to him, Wilson later championed Manchester rap collective Raw-T, but, nevertheless, he didn't quite have his finger on the pulse of the city in the way he may have during the burgeoning punk era, or he would have been raving about the wealth of grime talent that the region has produced.

Firstly, there's grime producer MRK1, who's collaborated with MCs including Trim, Flirta D and Jammer. Signed to Mike Paradinas's Planet Mu label, he fuses elements of hip-hop, dubstep and drum and bass into his sound. Considering MRK1's eclectic sound, we see how the label 'grime' doesn't quite do justice to the unique stylistic nuances of the individual artist, and, as we look at one of MRK1's most frequent collaborators – Virus Syndicate - we see this even more. Dub sub-bass and drum’n'bassbreaks are fused with samples to provide the backbone for JSD, Nika d and Goldfinga's rapid-fire raps. They may not sound like Wiley, but wait; they're MCs, they're British…they're grime, right? "I think we'd say we have got our own style," says Syndicate member JSD; "although we spawned from the grime scene, we have never really tried to make grime in particular, just music we enjoy. I think it's the media which gave the tag 'grime' to a lot of artists, whereas we just concentrate on making good music." JSD highlights an issue of labelling that has plagued artists since Buddy Holly was told he had to make bluegrass instead rock, but there's still something undeniably British about the music that gets labelled grime, as JSD agrees; "Rather than spitting over American sounding beats with a dodgy accent we are vocaling drum’n'bass or dubstep, you know….. UK music!"

So if musical features aren't enough to define grime, then what about lyrical content? A recurring theme in the lyrics of Virus Syndicate are issues of gun crime and gang violence that still blight the city's Moss Side and Hulme regions; in ‘Welcome to Manchester,’ they urge their listeners to "Pick up a mic and put down the Beretta". Touching on similar concerns are Shifty and Slayer, whose track ‘Don't Get Involved’ brilliantly steals the piano riff from Coldplay's ‘Trouble,’ subverting it to great effect. Social commentary can often be found amongst the gritty beats of grime – Dizzee Rascal's debut, ‘I Luv U,’ dealt with teenage pregnancy - but is this enough to define grime? JSD acknowledges the influence of experience, but is quick to note how "a lot issues in Manchester, such as gang culture or teenage pregnancy, transcend to Europe and the US and of course other parts of England," and that, ultimately, they "want to make music which is accessible to everyone". Again, the media myth that grime is somehow a gritty alternative to US hip hop is just that; for every 50 Cent, there's an Immortal Technique, and even UK acts like Virus Syndicate acknowledge that "you have to make music that people can dance too, as well as the thought provoking and deep subjects".

So what about the validity of regional scenes? Well, Virus Syndicate are 'Mancstas' through and through; you can hear it in their accents when they MC, and JSD elaborates that "we have a lot of respect for the other crews and groups in Manny, and love to collaborate and push the Manchester scene. But when it comes down to it, we are pushing 'Virus Syndicate' first and foremost". Maybe it's worth drawing comparisons with the underground music of Manchester in 2009 with that of 30 years ago: namely, The Fall. Both groups were formed by working class Mancunians, using the exciting blasts of noise – punk and grime - as the basis for their lyrics. But like JSD, Fall front man Mark E. Smith stressed being a 'group from Manchester' rather than a 'Manchester Group'. Is there anything stylistically Mancunian about either The Fall or Virus Syndicate? Manchester was often a setting for Smith's surreal narratives, and Virus Syndicate have been compared to Irvine Welsh for their stories of no-hope youths in Manchester districts like Wynthenshaw, Hulme and Rusholme. Indeed, JSD admits that "up here in Manchester we are detached from [London], and so develop our own style", citing Flirta D's 'sound effect' technique as an example. But, ultimately, as JSD notes, "the only difference is we are in Manchester".

It's without a doubt that grime – or whatever you care to call it - is the most exciting and innovative music currently being made in the UK. As we've seen with the case of Virus Syndicate and Manchester, there's an undeniable link between the music and the place in which it's made. However, whether this is enough to dish out the label 'grime', let alone put it after names of cities – 'London Grime', 'Manchester Grime' - is still debatable. What we have seen, though, is that we should label with care, as generalising risks overlooking both the universality and the minute detail of music in equal measure.

Oliver White - The Orient (Void Of Ovals)

Posted: 22 Apr 2009 06:08 AM PDT

The single track spanning the full 22 minutes of this release from Oliver White is one of shifting atmospheres and ideas. At its core, it should probably be considered musique concrete, but there are passages which are far more musical than mere cut and paste of recorded ambient sound, while the segues between passages are always smooth and considered. A judicious use of reverb is, as expected with this form of music, very apparent and used to add atmosphere to already haunting sounds. The contrast with some more close-mic recorded room sounds - the shuffling of papers, the jangling of wrist bangles - gives the piece some nice textural depth. While the piece sometimes evokes a narrative, it avoids an obvious and clunky ‘cinematic’ approach by utilising sometimes (appropriately) jarring bangs and clunks, along with the juxtaposition of seemingly unrelated field recordings. The Orient of the title is hinted at in the occasional use of eastern timbres and scale structures, but the overall ‘meaning’ of the piece remains alluringly elusive. While you may have heard many works in a similar vein and there aren’t any sonic boundaries being explored or pushed, overall the piece uses established modes and structures well and is a rewarding listen.

Adrian Elmer