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THIS FORTNIGHT

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DIZZEE RASCAL Showtime

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Dizzee Rascal ain’t one for the quiet life. With acres of glowing press reviews, a healthy Stateside buzz, an Aiya Napa knifing and the small matter of a Mercury Music Award under his belt, the East London emcee has had a remarkable year. His blinding Boy in Da Corner album forged a cunning blend of hip hop, garage and grime that placed him atop ol’ Blighty’s urban tree and, like Roots Manuva’s 2001 epic Run Come Save Me, his debut remains a genuinely unique and fresh take on black British music.

Showtime, its speedy follow-up, serves as a glimpse into Dizzee Rascal’s personal journals over the past 18 frienzied months. Here, we find the Roll Deep rudebwoy’s reflections on his new-found fame and fortune bundled together with a few barbed threats directed towards his countless detractors within the UK garage and hip hop scenes.

Other people’s attitudes towards the post-Mercury Dizzee is a recurring concern of the LP. ‘Leave me be,‘ he requests on ‘Respect’. ‘Your opinion don’t interest me/Don’t like me? That’s fine by me.‘ This would be small beer if he didn’t spend at least a third of Showtime insisting that he doesn’t give a fuck what you think. Dizzee doth protest too much, we reckon.

Nevertheless, the boy from Bow is a major talent and there are some truly stunning moments stockpiled here - the awesome ‘Get By’, for example, is a vaguely political portrait of the grim east London estate in which he grew up. It’s on songs like this, and the autobiographical ‘Dream’ (a reworking of Captain Sensible’s ridiculous 1982 smash ‘Happy Talk’) where he quits whinging and invites the listener into his world, that Dizzee truly excels.

Accepted, he’s no lyrical legend his fractured, rapid-fire raps lack the finesse and flair of Yank emcees like Nas and Eminem - yet the lad’s got bags of charisma, and on ‘Learn’ he re-employs the rampant rudeboy tough talk that made Boy in Da Corner so compelling: “Whether you’re poor or whether you’re rich/I’ll leave you lying in a ditch.’ In fact, the only real snag is when Dizzee lets his idiot mate Marga Man - officially one of the worst rappers you’ll ever hear - dribble all over the otherwise reasonable ‘Girls’.

Showtime is a deceptive title: it reeks of the glamour and glitz and razzmatazz that drips from the US-brand urban pop that currently swamps hit parades the world over. In reality,

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the album’s sonic stylings are considerably darker and more stripped-down than anything else you’ll hear on mainstream daytime radio; the scary, sinister dub of ‘Graftin” and the minimalist banger ‘Everywhere’ are some of the iciest moments Dizzee Rascal has ever committed to wax. One reason why E3’s best known cheeky chappy is detested by so many in the domestic rap scene is because he doesn’t try to ape the classical sounds of Brooklyn, New York circa 1995.

While he gleefully toasts his bling lifestyle on ‘Hype Talk’, on reflection Dizzee Rascal seems uncomfortable with his status as the chic urban poster boy for the Observer Music Monthly crowd, and is at pains to stress that he’s still ‘Dylan the villain from around the way’. And unlike Jenny from the Block, you do actually believe him, as the hard-as-nails beats and rhymes displayed here are anchored firmly in the streets. He may be punching diamond-drenched fists with the likes of Zane Lowe and Jo Whiley, but as he declares on ‘Everything’, he’s still quick to ‘punch you in your nostril, punch you in your chin’. In short, for all its apparent contradictions, Showtime is still a stylishly rock-hard rollercoaster from one of British music’s brightest stars. (Hugh Leask)

Dizzee Rascal: you can take the boy out of Bow . . .

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