Dizzee Rascal is the best rapper this country's ever produced, period. His words are as sharp as prime Tricky, his delivery sharper; he's got bags more personality than anybody in the British rap scene. These local comparisons add up to faint praise, though, so how about this: 18-year-old, East London-bred Dizzee Rascal is as good as any MC currently active on Earth.
Every UK garage MC brags about how his style's unique, and virtually every MC does it using the same flow and timbre.
Something of a cult, this. In 1972—that year again—the Brits made a dreadful zombie movie wherein frog-worshipping biker boys commit suicide, then return, undead, to burn up motorways and terrorise old ladies like Beryl Reid outside supermarkets. Fog, satanism and skull helmets, on a budget of around nine quid. The soundtrack, however, by Kes man John Cameron, has changed hands for daft money since, and now appears on CD. It mixes wah-wah rock, choral arias and phased backwards drums for no better reason than that Cameron felt like it.
One-time Ed Kuepper cohort Hancock has been in various Australian bands since the '80s, and it shows across her maturely enthralling solo debut, on which she sounds like a less fractured Marianne Faithfull. Backed by a fine band who effortlessly blur the boundaries between rock, folk and jazz, her own compositions are marked by arresting observations on the war of the sexes. Yet best of all are her extraordinarily haunting covers of David Crosby's "Everybody's Been Burned" and, more improbably, Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart" done country-rock style.
In most cultures, seven is a magic number. Not in rock'n'roll, where to sustain any degree of originality beyond album three or four is about as rare as a sober Shane MacGowan.
