Sunday, 5 August 2012

Roots Manuva

As far as I can tell, grime is the delightfully Anglicised equivalent of US gangsta rap.  It's all the product of urban decay, a life on the mean streets of wherever and doing whatever it takes to get by; but whilst exponents of the latter recount tales of drive-by shootings, carjacking and busting caps into domes, practitioners of the former tell of tagging bus stops and getting caught shoplifting at Tescos.  


I don't really know, I don't pay that much attention.  But it does seem that further similarities can be found in the corruption of both genres; the gritty urban reality of their origins has been consumed by a swirling vortex of bling and bitches, leaving nothing but nauseating parodies.

Still, before everything went horribly wrong Roots Manuva kicked out a couple of blinding records filled with philosophy, reflection, minimalist beats and a ruined sports day.


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