Who would have thought, ten years ago, that there would be a hip hop album entitled 'I'm Gay'? Homosexuality in the rap game has always been one of, if not the most, furiously contended subjects. Who, then, could have imagined that the very same album would actually be quite good?
California's resident crazy-person Lil B, of rap group The Pack, began gaining real recognition last year when his seemingly drug addled, lurching, stream of consciousness rapping style was admired by the Christmas jumper wearing, thick rim glasses donning, shit Hitler haircutted hipsters across the western world. Perhaps this is why Lil B polarises opinion so much, his fame perhaps the result of a trend obsession; knee jerky morons overtly claiming love for something then dashing it away for the next peculiarity du jour. But Lil B doesn't deserve that at all. I'm Gay is an odd record, but the overriding vibe is a summery and certainly a positive one. The productions on the tracks are great - sublime in places, like on 'Gon Be Okay' which ingeniously samples the theme from anime fantasy Spirited Away - and I Hate Myself, an atmospheric song akin to a more sombre Cunninlynguists track.
Lil B's unconventional style and flow may be a bit off putting to people, but it certainly gives him character, a massive plus in a marketplace inundated with genericism. His lyrics are honest, and his delivery, whilst at times difficult to process, is often fitting with the theme of the song.
Even if you didn't like his older stuff then I'd still implore you to give I'm Gay a try. Just make sure you say 'no homo' afterwards, of course.
Saturday, 2 July 2011
Friday, 11 February 2011
Sometimes, TV Is Really Shit
Most shit TV is made for teenagers. Teen Cribs, My Super Sweet 16, anything on BBC 3, the consensus among TV executives appears to be "They don't know any better! Give them platter of shit and they'll eat it up like it's a bucket of ecstasy pills." What they don't seem to realise is that some youngsters grew up watching good TV, and their tastes are more refined. Not content with the egregious listings of today, they'll search out the best in classic and contemporary television on the internet, a far more accessible and comprehensive library for good television than the television ever was. But TV doesn't so itself any favours.
Take Skins. Now in its fifth series, Skins has steadily been declining in quality since the end of its first run. The original set of characters were fairly annoying, but they at least had moments of normality; genuine human camaraderie with some humour sprinkled on top. But since then, it has decided to take itself far too seriously, each storyline being more ludicrous than the last, the characters becoming crass stereotypes of their supposed real life mirrors. This came to a head recently, in the latest series, where Skins represented a metal head in the most insulting way I think I have ever seen.
I like metal. I don't listen to is as much as I used to, but I still enjoy it. Some of my friends were into it as well, we'd often discuss who was good, who was wank, as you do, but it was a music we enjoyed, and that was all. The metal head character portrayed in Skins is the most insipid, ungrateful, mopey fucking idiot I have ever witnessed. Someone so ignorantly steeped in the ethos of 'Metal' that when his kindly father tells him he loves him, he replies by calling him by his first name and basically telling him to fuck off. Someone so horrifically bland and uninspiring that everything they utter is basically an ode to how metal they are, and how they'll 'Never compromise!'
He comes into contact with one of the more popular girls, Grace, who has been assigned the task of teaching him how to talk to the equally awful metal bird who works in the Library. This culminates Grace trying to learn the ways of the metal warrior, by dressing in a quintessentially metal fashion. She has done some homework on metal (claiming she likes Industrial but 'Trent Reznor can suck my cock', apparently...) and the ensuing conversation ends up in what I consider, with no hyperbole, no exaggeration, the most cringe worthy scene I have ever witnessed on television. After becoming agitated at Dr. Metal Tits' general demeanour, she stands on a table and starts triumphantly singing Rage Against the Machine's 'Killing In The Name', specifically the 'Fuck you I won't do what you tell me' bit. My toes curled into my foot sole, and my head was firmly glued to my hands. This is what it has come to. This is what they think we want to watch. This. Is. Fucking. Shit.
By comparison, an exceptional program began on Sky's new channel Sky Atlantic. Boardwalk Empire, from the off, was encapsulating and visually stunning. It follows Enoch 'Nucky' Thompson, a corrupt and powerful political figure in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Nucky, played impeccably by Steve Buscemi, who has a fascinating face, is a charming and wise man, who is pained by the death of his young wife. Supporting performances also stick out, especially Kelly MacDonald as Margaret Schroeder, an unassuming but strong and clever woman, who Nucky warms to. The pilot was directed by Martin Scorsese, and is reportedly the most expensive TV pilot ever made, and it looks it. The sets are incredible, antiquated advertisements and amusements align the boardwalk, and the interior furnishings are typically grand.
Maybe it's the money, Skins fifth series was rumoured to be cancelled due to budget restraints, but the gulf of quality between the two shows is astounding. A patronising and sickly pseudo insight to teenage life versus a sublime and well executed American period drama: the victor here is clear.
Take Skins. Now in its fifth series, Skins has steadily been declining in quality since the end of its first run. The original set of characters were fairly annoying, but they at least had moments of normality; genuine human camaraderie with some humour sprinkled on top. But since then, it has decided to take itself far too seriously, each storyline being more ludicrous than the last, the characters becoming crass stereotypes of their supposed real life mirrors. This came to a head recently, in the latest series, where Skins represented a metal head in the most insulting way I think I have ever seen.
I like metal. I don't listen to is as much as I used to, but I still enjoy it. Some of my friends were into it as well, we'd often discuss who was good, who was wank, as you do, but it was a music we enjoyed, and that was all. The metal head character portrayed in Skins is the most insipid, ungrateful, mopey fucking idiot I have ever witnessed. Someone so ignorantly steeped in the ethos of 'Metal' that when his kindly father tells him he loves him, he replies by calling him by his first name and basically telling him to fuck off. Someone so horrifically bland and uninspiring that everything they utter is basically an ode to how metal they are, and how they'll 'Never compromise!'
He comes into contact with one of the more popular girls, Grace, who has been assigned the task of teaching him how to talk to the equally awful metal bird who works in the Library. This culminates Grace trying to learn the ways of the metal warrior, by dressing in a quintessentially metal fashion. She has done some homework on metal (claiming she likes Industrial but 'Trent Reznor can suck my cock', apparently...) and the ensuing conversation ends up in what I consider, with no hyperbole, no exaggeration, the most cringe worthy scene I have ever witnessed on television. After becoming agitated at Dr. Metal Tits' general demeanour, she stands on a table and starts triumphantly singing Rage Against the Machine's 'Killing In The Name', specifically the 'Fuck you I won't do what you tell me' bit. My toes curled into my foot sole, and my head was firmly glued to my hands. This is what it has come to. This is what they think we want to watch. This. Is. Fucking. Shit.
By comparison, an exceptional program began on Sky's new channel Sky Atlantic. Boardwalk Empire, from the off, was encapsulating and visually stunning. It follows Enoch 'Nucky' Thompson, a corrupt and powerful political figure in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Nucky, played impeccably by Steve Buscemi, who has a fascinating face, is a charming and wise man, who is pained by the death of his young wife. Supporting performances also stick out, especially Kelly MacDonald as Margaret Schroeder, an unassuming but strong and clever woman, who Nucky warms to. The pilot was directed by Martin Scorsese, and is reportedly the most expensive TV pilot ever made, and it looks it. The sets are incredible, antiquated advertisements and amusements align the boardwalk, and the interior furnishings are typically grand.
Maybe it's the money, Skins fifth series was rumoured to be cancelled due to budget restraints, but the gulf of quality between the two shows is astounding. A patronising and sickly pseudo insight to teenage life versus a sublime and well executed American period drama: the victor here is clear.
Friday, 4 February 2011
James Blake - 'James Blake'
Since James Blake started making moves a couple of years ago, he has earned a bizarrely amorous following. Both men and women I've spoken to love him dearly, with reports of girls full out swooning as he walks by. His special brand of eerie and beautiful soundscapes struck a huge chord with fans of - the early incarnation of - dubstep. Ranking number two behind Jessie J on the BBC's Sound of 2011 list, it was clear that people expected big things from his self titled debut album, and while it delivers in most respects, it falters in others.
Always minimal, the album is very pretty; natural and earthy sounds are cleverly mixed with traditional synth. It is in these moments, when the music is both haunting and vibrant, that the record excels. This is especially prevalent on Wilhelms Scream, muted guitars and crashing wave chords, and I Never Learnt To Share with its grand church-style organ.
While the majority of songs create levels of atmosphere, some are too minimal to muster presence. Both Lindesfarne I and II fail to capture the same energy as the other songs, and are noticeably hollow by comparison.
But these feelings are almost immediately assuaged when Limit To Your Love begins, or rather the pulsing and warm bass, which is brilliantly executed.
Listening to this album is a pleasure, but the knowledge that it could be more, have more body, is frustrating. Nonetheless, it firmly cements James Blake into the music lovers conciousness, and it is likely he will be lodged there for a while to come.
Always minimal, the album is very pretty; natural and earthy sounds are cleverly mixed with traditional synth. It is in these moments, when the music is both haunting and vibrant, that the record excels. This is especially prevalent on Wilhelms Scream, muted guitars and crashing wave chords, and I Never Learnt To Share with its grand church-style organ.
While the majority of songs create levels of atmosphere, some are too minimal to muster presence. Both Lindesfarne I and II fail to capture the same energy as the other songs, and are noticeably hollow by comparison.
But these feelings are almost immediately assuaged when Limit To Your Love begins, or rather the pulsing and warm bass, which is brilliantly executed.
Listening to this album is a pleasure, but the knowledge that it could be more, have more body, is frustrating. Nonetheless, it firmly cements James Blake into the music lovers conciousness, and it is likely he will be lodged there for a while to come.
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx - 'I'll Take Care Of U'
'I'll Take Care Of U' is the second track released from the remix album 'We're New Here' by the xx's Jamie (did you guess by the name?) and hobo voiced soul legend Gil Scott Heron. We first got a taste of this record late last year when first single 'NY Is Killing Me' was debuted, and promised an intriguing blend of pained vocal work and ultra modern electronic music. 'I'll Take Care Of U' doesn't disappoint in this respect, or any respect for that matter. Beginning with Gil's toothless laments on love, on top of smooth piano chords and understated hi hats, segueing into a calming Explosions In The Sky-ish melody. The track continues in this vein, building up with 80's style party synth, the crescendo blending the two. This is a fantastically groovy track and, like the single before it, sets this remix album up to be a great piece of work.
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
Black Swan
I won't lie, I was very excited about seeing this. After belatedly seeing Requiem for A Dream, Darren Aronofsky proved himself to be a must watch Director in my books. As soon as I heard about the concept of Black Swan, and then, the sublime casting, I was champing at the bit to see what it was like. Now that I have, I'm pleased to say it exceeded my expectations.
Black Swan is the story of ballerina Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman), who dreams of a lead role in a production. When brilliant but harsh Director Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassel) announces the production is to be Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, the role of Swan Queen is available. Encompassing the dual roles of white and black swans (white swan being the fragile and reserved, black swan being the more erotic and free), Nina is given the role of Swan Queen, after she violently rejects Thomas' advances. Nina struggles with the black swan counterpart, her contemporary Lily (Mila Kunis) being more adept. She also feels guilt at her replacing of former Prima Ballerina Beth MacIntyre (Winona Ryder). As the pressure to be more free mounts on, and her overbearing and borderline psychotic mother (Barbara Hershey) constantly controls her, Nina begins to experience horrific hallucinations, ones which push her further in direction of becoming the promiscuous and tragic black swan.
Naturally, ballet is considered a high art form. Aronofsky blends this with the idea that the performance can be charged by eroticism, a dance so sexually intense that it can send you into catatonia. Portman plays the fragile Nina excellently, a permanent reluctant grimace and strain on her face throughout. Supporting performances from Cassel and Kunis, as the impassioned director and the unconfined rival respectively, shine brightly. Hershey as the overbearing stage mother is also quite scary, compulsively checking her grown daughter for scratches, as though she'd just come in from playing outside, not to forget Winona Ryder, unhinged and unwanted, sullenly milling around the film.
The painful practice that ballet requires is excellently displayed. Scenes of continuous pirouettes, meticulously spinning to Clint Mansell's score, another element that adds to the feel of the movie, dramatic and wholly encompassing.
Ultimately, Black Swan triumphs in its atmosphere. The feeling of mental stability being constantly shaken is prevalent, always prompting you to wonder in which way it will manifest itself next. A great film, surely to be critically commended when it comes out in January, and on many lists when the Oscars roll around once more.
Black Swan is the story of ballerina Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman), who dreams of a lead role in a production. When brilliant but harsh Director Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassel) announces the production is to be Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, the role of Swan Queen is available. Encompassing the dual roles of white and black swans (white swan being the fragile and reserved, black swan being the more erotic and free), Nina is given the role of Swan Queen, after she violently rejects Thomas' advances. Nina struggles with the black swan counterpart, her contemporary Lily (Mila Kunis) being more adept. She also feels guilt at her replacing of former Prima Ballerina Beth MacIntyre (Winona Ryder). As the pressure to be more free mounts on, and her overbearing and borderline psychotic mother (Barbara Hershey) constantly controls her, Nina begins to experience horrific hallucinations, ones which push her further in direction of becoming the promiscuous and tragic black swan.
Naturally, ballet is considered a high art form. Aronofsky blends this with the idea that the performance can be charged by eroticism, a dance so sexually intense that it can send you into catatonia. Portman plays the fragile Nina excellently, a permanent reluctant grimace and strain on her face throughout. Supporting performances from Cassel and Kunis, as the impassioned director and the unconfined rival respectively, shine brightly. Hershey as the overbearing stage mother is also quite scary, compulsively checking her grown daughter for scratches, as though she'd just come in from playing outside, not to forget Winona Ryder, unhinged and unwanted, sullenly milling around the film.
The painful practice that ballet requires is excellently displayed. Scenes of continuous pirouettes, meticulously spinning to Clint Mansell's score, another element that adds to the feel of the movie, dramatic and wholly encompassing.
Ultimately, Black Swan triumphs in its atmosphere. The feeling of mental stability being constantly shaken is prevalent, always prompting you to wonder in which way it will manifest itself next. A great film, surely to be critically commended when it comes out in January, and on many lists when the Oscars roll around once more.
Friday, 26 November 2010
The Best Tunes Of The Year
What on earth will people say when they look back on 2010? I mean, what in the good name of Sehkmet even happened? I'm sitting here, it's the 29th November, my house is too cold to be deemed livable, browsing the '2010' entry in Wikipedia. International Year of Biodiversity, apparently. But forget all the 'reality', like deaths and stuff, let's focus on the greatest abstract and amorphous thing in the world. Apart from maybe 'love', or something.
This year in music has been good, I feel. I hear people, and have always heard, actually, banging on about how music is now shit, talking of the past as if it's some unachievable pinnacle that shouldn't even be questioned. I say, 'Why don't you sit in your Nuke bunker, live off corned beef and listen to the Smiths for the rest of your life you boring scumbag?', but they never do listen. I love the history of popular music as much as anyone, just don't tickle its perineum with your nose all the time.
Mercury Prize nominees (and rightful victors, but shush) Foals produced numerous BTOTY candidates, especially their exceptional and epic seven-minuter Spanish Sahara, but Blue Blood, album opener, is going to nick it. If you can find me a groovier bass line produced this year and I will bathe in sulphur, cuz it isn't happening. And I've looked. Hard. It's impressive, also, how they've taken the almost mindless freneticism of Antidotes, condensed it, and created not only dancefloor fodder, but also calming and sombre music to be enjoyed whilst having a nice sit down, maybe with a cool glass of IRN BRU.
2010 has seen the emergence of Trinidadian hip hop artist Nicki Minaj. Minaj's popularity is something of a controversy to some. Her supposed influence on young girls both sides of the Atlantic has garnered attention, some partaking in the love, others looking on with disdain at the new 'idol' for young women. Most negative arguments against her can be quickly rubbished, as far as it seems, Minaj promotes positivity, for women, young girls, and mostly everyone. Not to say she's the second coming of Christ, or Emmeline Pankhurst's 21st Century Brooklyn equivalent, but her vocal and lyrical talents and barmy ice-cream hair are irresistible. An example of this is recent single Right Thru Me. Minaj rhetorically questions her beau, with a Satriani sampled melody chiming in the background.
But enough about the USA, what's been happening over here? Well, Jamie Woon happened, and thank God, really. Woon is a singer songwriter who has played at various jazz festivals, usually on his own with just a guitar. Watching these performances reminds me strongly of Jeff Buckley; a stripped back and solemn stage presence accentuated powerfully by the vocal work. His recent single Night Air, co-produced by Burial, is a truly icy, the sound of a midnight stroll in mid-Winter. His voice is nothing less than sublime, and works perfectly with the bubbling track. Another artist strongly representing these cold Isles is Jessie Ware. Debut single Nervous, produced my SBTRKT, has an unnaturally catchy melody line and chorus, impossible to overlook. Buy now if you already haven't.
Sometimes BTOTY's just slap me in the chops when I'm least expecting them to. I was working on a building site earlier on in the year, stripping wallpaper, carrying bricks on my shoulder, you know, all that man stuff. I was just about to fill up the steamer for an eighth time, when I heard something interesting on the radio. Being the fucking hip labourer that I am, I whipped out my phone and opened Shazam. It turns out the song was When I'm Alone by heavily freckled American singer Lissie. The introduction is what strikes the most. The ebbing guitars and ghost noted snares are quietly moving. Her vocals begin understatedly, but as the song progresses they get more powerful, culminating in a head noddingly righteous chorus. Very promising for the future.
If you're on Twitter, you'll have realised by now that it's pretty fucking boring. I mean, I'll still go on it, but I'm not really sure why. I think it's because in the back of my mind, I hope that someone will say something interesting, or at least post a good link. Most of the time I just go on to see what Wiley is doing, because it's usually something bizarre. Whether it's sitting in the Sun on ustream for hours on end, or hypothetically placing himself in Chipmunk's jungle- themed video (on a hang glider, specifically). When not unleashing his strange-of-conciousness, Wiley is making special music. A prime example of this was his collaboration with garage and 2- step innovator MJ Cole, From The Drop. Again, the song begins, and continues, in a calm, almost simple way, the track punctuated by the sound of jarring metal. Wiley's lyrics and flow are typically on form, clever lines are blended perfectly with the sort of self aggrandisement that made grime bars so special.
There's one tune that really stood out this year, though. When I first heard Wut by Girl Unit, I knew instantly that I loved it, but also had no idea how to categorise it, or even define it really. It begins with bright synths and frenetic percussion, up until the devastating drop. And it is truly devastating, the crashing bass and the desperate cries of 'wut' and 'oh' all blend perfectly to create something very, very special. The whole EP, including Showstoppa and Everytime, is an excellent set of songs to be listened to ad infinitum, without boredom occurring.
So what for 2011? Well, who's to say? The remix of Gil Scott-Heron's album 'We're New Here' by Jamie xx looks very promising, as debut single NY Is Killing Me proves. English singer Adele's second album 21 should also be interesting, as she's proven time again that she's a consistent talent, and one to keep an eye on.
Now go on, enjoy your Christmas and New Years, and for God's sake, whatever you do, don't touch any of my things.
This year in music has been good, I feel. I hear people, and have always heard, actually, banging on about how music is now shit, talking of the past as if it's some unachievable pinnacle that shouldn't even be questioned. I say, 'Why don't you sit in your Nuke bunker, live off corned beef and listen to the Smiths for the rest of your life you boring scumbag?', but they never do listen. I love the history of popular music as much as anyone, just don't tickle its perineum with your nose all the time.
Mercury Prize nominees (and rightful victors, but shush) Foals produced numerous BTOTY candidates, especially their exceptional and epic seven-minuter Spanish Sahara, but Blue Blood, album opener, is going to nick it. If you can find me a groovier bass line produced this year and I will bathe in sulphur, cuz it isn't happening. And I've looked. Hard. It's impressive, also, how they've taken the almost mindless freneticism of Antidotes, condensed it, and created not only dancefloor fodder, but also calming and sombre music to be enjoyed whilst having a nice sit down, maybe with a cool glass of IRN BRU.
2010 has seen the emergence of Trinidadian hip hop artist Nicki Minaj. Minaj's popularity is something of a controversy to some. Her supposed influence on young girls both sides of the Atlantic has garnered attention, some partaking in the love, others looking on with disdain at the new 'idol' for young women. Most negative arguments against her can be quickly rubbished, as far as it seems, Minaj promotes positivity, for women, young girls, and mostly everyone. Not to say she's the second coming of Christ, or Emmeline Pankhurst's 21st Century Brooklyn equivalent, but her vocal and lyrical talents and barmy ice-cream hair are irresistible. An example of this is recent single Right Thru Me. Minaj rhetorically questions her beau, with a Satriani sampled melody chiming in the background.
But enough about the USA, what's been happening over here? Well, Jamie Woon happened, and thank God, really. Woon is a singer songwriter who has played at various jazz festivals, usually on his own with just a guitar. Watching these performances reminds me strongly of Jeff Buckley; a stripped back and solemn stage presence accentuated powerfully by the vocal work. His recent single Night Air, co-produced by Burial, is a truly icy, the sound of a midnight stroll in mid-Winter. His voice is nothing less than sublime, and works perfectly with the bubbling track. Another artist strongly representing these cold Isles is Jessie Ware. Debut single Nervous, produced my SBTRKT, has an unnaturally catchy melody line and chorus, impossible to overlook. Buy now if you already haven't.
Sometimes BTOTY's just slap me in the chops when I'm least expecting them to. I was working on a building site earlier on in the year, stripping wallpaper, carrying bricks on my shoulder, you know, all that man stuff. I was just about to fill up the steamer for an eighth time, when I heard something interesting on the radio. Being the fucking hip labourer that I am, I whipped out my phone and opened Shazam. It turns out the song was When I'm Alone by heavily freckled American singer Lissie. The introduction is what strikes the most. The ebbing guitars and ghost noted snares are quietly moving. Her vocals begin understatedly, but as the song progresses they get more powerful, culminating in a head noddingly righteous chorus. Very promising for the future.
If you're on Twitter, you'll have realised by now that it's pretty fucking boring. I mean, I'll still go on it, but I'm not really sure why. I think it's because in the back of my mind, I hope that someone will say something interesting, or at least post a good link. Most of the time I just go on to see what Wiley is doing, because it's usually something bizarre. Whether it's sitting in the Sun on ustream for hours on end, or hypothetically placing himself in Chipmunk's jungle- themed video (on a hang glider, specifically). When not unleashing his strange-of-conciousness, Wiley is making special music. A prime example of this was his collaboration with garage and 2- step innovator MJ Cole, From The Drop. Again, the song begins, and continues, in a calm, almost simple way, the track punctuated by the sound of jarring metal. Wiley's lyrics and flow are typically on form, clever lines are blended perfectly with the sort of self aggrandisement that made grime bars so special.
There's one tune that really stood out this year, though. When I first heard Wut by Girl Unit, I knew instantly that I loved it, but also had no idea how to categorise it, or even define it really. It begins with bright synths and frenetic percussion, up until the devastating drop. And it is truly devastating, the crashing bass and the desperate cries of 'wut' and 'oh' all blend perfectly to create something very, very special. The whole EP, including Showstoppa and Everytime, is an excellent set of songs to be listened to ad infinitum, without boredom occurring.
So what for 2011? Well, who's to say? The remix of Gil Scott-Heron's album 'We're New Here' by Jamie xx looks very promising, as debut single NY Is Killing Me proves. English singer Adele's second album 21 should also be interesting, as she's proven time again that she's a consistent talent, and one to keep an eye on.
Now go on, enjoy your Christmas and New Years, and for God's sake, whatever you do, don't touch any of my things.
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
Pillaging the Airwaves
Pirate is a funny word. Olden day pirates are usually shown in either one of two ways; swashbuckling men of the sea, searching for hidden treasure buried under an arbitrary X. What’s wrong with the other letters, anyway? These sort pirates generally tend to light heartedly enjoy the exploits of the deep blue, making men walk the plank on their birthday and making rum-based Metropolitan cocktails. The other sort of pirates likes to decimate whole fishing towns. They brutally rape its citizens and take all of its resources and money before spitting at everyone and sailing off, laughing at how weak and raped their latest conquest is.
These days, pirates are either AK- 47 toting East Africans or they’re taking over the airwaves in your local area. Rinse FM is obviously the latter.
In 1994, DJ Geeneus set the station up in a secret location in East London. During the nineties, pirate radio was getting a pretty bad rap. There were news stories claiming that to gain access to the stations themselves, DJs would abseil in, with all their records in a bag. Obviously this is completely ludicrous, and about as plausible as them getting in by being sucked through a giant straw, but the viewing public undoubtedly eat it up and radio piracy was seen as more of a threat than it actually was. Every interview conducted with pirate radio heads got the same result: they were in it for the music, and that was it.
And this is certainly why Rinse was in it. The station was an integral part of the progression of Grime, a brand new genre of music straight from London.
An unnaturally dark progression from UK Garage, combining elements of Dancehall and Jungle, Grime is the truest sound of the City, representing its underbelly in an unflinching and uncensorable way. It allowed people to discover talents that perhaps they didn’t know they had, and reflected how they felt about their surroundings, about their lives and what they saw, what they wanted to be. Wiley, perhaps the strongest and most prominent member of the Grime scene, got his time to shine on Rinse FM. He, along with other early Grime artists like Dizzee Rascal and the Newham Generals, brought Grime to the listening public, and from there it blew up. Underground MCs were featured on various DVDs like ‘Risky Roadz’ and ‘Aim High’. The stations continuous support of this new and exciting music sealed its spot as arguably the most important pirate radio station in the UK.
Even legendary BBC DJ John Peel showered it with praise, saying “When I'm in London I listen to the pirates as much as I can. There's a station I like called Rinse FM, which is somewhere in the area banded by Kiss FM and Classic FM.”
In 2005 something strange happened. Ofcom decided that Rinse was not worth the airwaves it was broadcasting on, and disconnected its radio transmitter. One of the stations DJs, Slimzee, got tarnished with and Anti Social Behavioural Order (ASBO). Quite what is anti social about a radio station is beyond me. Maybe if you were driving a porous skinned child with leukaemia too close to the station and the radio waves shook the very bone marrow out of their dying femurs, but that’s not going to happen, is it?
A similar phenomenon to Grime has happened more recently to electronic dance genre Dubstep. As with Grime, Rinse FM saw the rising demand in this new, darker sound. With its wobbling bass and addictive drops, dupstep soon became huge in the London underground rave scene. Genre pioneers like Skream and Kode9 were frequently featured on the station. These DJs, among others, started the ball rolling on something that, in a few years, would grow to be one of the most popular types of music in the UK, and is on its way to achieving worldwide recognition. Rinses participation in the development and propulsion of this new music caught the attention of Radio 1 DJ Mary Anne Hobbs, whose consistent championing of dubstep brought it into the public consciousness.
What’s in the future of this innovative station? Thankfully, the station was given an FM broadcasting license in June 2010. This meant that they could broadcast new and exciting music, along with the classics that made the station so popular in the first place, legally. The station has become almost of a brand itself, releasing self branded mix CDs from resident DJs. They were also fundamental in the recent success of singer Katy B, whose song ‘Katy on a Mission’ (Produced by Benga) reached number 5 in the charts.
Rinse continues to display the best of Londons electronic music; from dubstep to grime, house to funky- something for every musical palette. Will it be the birthplace of another rich sound of the City? There’s only one way to find out. Stay Tuned.
These days, pirates are either AK- 47 toting East Africans or they’re taking over the airwaves in your local area. Rinse FM is obviously the latter.
In 1994, DJ Geeneus set the station up in a secret location in East London. During the nineties, pirate radio was getting a pretty bad rap. There were news stories claiming that to gain access to the stations themselves, DJs would abseil in, with all their records in a bag. Obviously this is completely ludicrous, and about as plausible as them getting in by being sucked through a giant straw, but the viewing public undoubtedly eat it up and radio piracy was seen as more of a threat than it actually was. Every interview conducted with pirate radio heads got the same result: they were in it for the music, and that was it.
And this is certainly why Rinse was in it. The station was an integral part of the progression of Grime, a brand new genre of music straight from London.
An unnaturally dark progression from UK Garage, combining elements of Dancehall and Jungle, Grime is the truest sound of the City, representing its underbelly in an unflinching and uncensorable way. It allowed people to discover talents that perhaps they didn’t know they had, and reflected how they felt about their surroundings, about their lives and what they saw, what they wanted to be. Wiley, perhaps the strongest and most prominent member of the Grime scene, got his time to shine on Rinse FM. He, along with other early Grime artists like Dizzee Rascal and the Newham Generals, brought Grime to the listening public, and from there it blew up. Underground MCs were featured on various DVDs like ‘Risky Roadz’ and ‘Aim High’. The stations continuous support of this new and exciting music sealed its spot as arguably the most important pirate radio station in the UK.
Even legendary BBC DJ John Peel showered it with praise, saying “When I'm in London I listen to the pirates as much as I can. There's a station I like called Rinse FM, which is somewhere in the area banded by Kiss FM and Classic FM.”
In 2005 something strange happened. Ofcom decided that Rinse was not worth the airwaves it was broadcasting on, and disconnected its radio transmitter. One of the stations DJs, Slimzee, got tarnished with and Anti Social Behavioural Order (ASBO). Quite what is anti social about a radio station is beyond me. Maybe if you were driving a porous skinned child with leukaemia too close to the station and the radio waves shook the very bone marrow out of their dying femurs, but that’s not going to happen, is it?
A similar phenomenon to Grime has happened more recently to electronic dance genre Dubstep. As with Grime, Rinse FM saw the rising demand in this new, darker sound. With its wobbling bass and addictive drops, dupstep soon became huge in the London underground rave scene. Genre pioneers like Skream and Kode9 were frequently featured on the station. These DJs, among others, started the ball rolling on something that, in a few years, would grow to be one of the most popular types of music in the UK, and is on its way to achieving worldwide recognition. Rinses participation in the development and propulsion of this new music caught the attention of Radio 1 DJ Mary Anne Hobbs, whose consistent championing of dubstep brought it into the public consciousness.
What’s in the future of this innovative station? Thankfully, the station was given an FM broadcasting license in June 2010. This meant that they could broadcast new and exciting music, along with the classics that made the station so popular in the first place, legally. The station has become almost of a brand itself, releasing self branded mix CDs from resident DJs. They were also fundamental in the recent success of singer Katy B, whose song ‘Katy on a Mission’ (Produced by Benga) reached number 5 in the charts.
Rinse continues to display the best of Londons electronic music; from dubstep to grime, house to funky- something for every musical palette. Will it be the birthplace of another rich sound of the City? There’s only one way to find out. Stay Tuned.
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