Sunday, 5 August 2012
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.