Boy in da Corner

This is a far darker proposition than ‘Original Pirate Material’ though. Dizzee sees himself as an outsider; the opening track makes this abundantly clear. On the opening line of the opening track, ‘Sittin Here’ Dizzee tells us, “I’m sitting here, I ain’t saying much, I just think / and my eyes don’t move left or right, they just blink.” For 18 years, Mills sounds remarkably mature, and sounds almost like an elder statesman of the streets when he whispers memories of playing football in the streets, before he yields to the feeling that there will be, “no positive change.” This feeling of hopelessness rears its ugly head again on ‘Brand New Day’. Over a dizzying wind chime sample, Dizzee reminisces, “We used to fight with kids from other estates / now eight millimetres settle debates.”

Though just shy of an hour in length, Dizzee manages to cram in a huge assortment of topics. Besides the tales of catching and delivering beatings, the inflammatory single ‘I Luv U’ is a breathtaking synopsis of a young couples and teenage pregnancies (“Fifteen? She's underage!). This theme is revisited on ‘Round We Go’ – a tale of an endless cycle of loveless sex told by a narrator who has learned his lesson.

Elsewhere ‘Fix Up, Look Sharp’ with its pounding drum, Billy Squier sample and eardrum-destroying bassline is an immense proposition. Dizzee sounds almost demented as he spits the lyrics. It isn’t the only track that defies sonic definition. ‘Jus A Rascal’ has the most bizarre operatic chorus ever heard, which is totally at odds with the light speed rhymes Dizzee spits on the verses.

Apologies for the seemingly constant Streets comparisons, but ‘Original Pirate Material’ and ‘Boy In Da Corner’ share the fact that they are the two best albums to come out of the UK in a long, long time. With ‘Boy In Da Corner’, Dizzee Rascal has joint the likes of The Streets and Roots Manuva as urban British artists with something interesting to say, besides American hip hop cliché. So what is it? Garage? Hip Hop? Whatever genre you choose to pigeonhole this album in, I’ll choose to call it one of the best albums of the year.

Let’s stay positive to begin with. Before us stands a 19 year old East London lyric spitter by the name of Dylan “Dizzie Rascal” Mills. He’s produced – literally – an album of menacing, innovative and at times overwhelming noise. It relentlessly bombards as a vivid piece of social commentary confronting familiar societal issues, which range from ambition, girls to money and family. It’s a frank and frantic walk through the streets of Dizzie and his mind. Take cover as a cacophony of bleeps, crashes, voices and rhythms disorientate you. From the harrowing introductory frustration or self-doubt of ‘Sittin’ Here’ through to the perpetual traffic jam of ‘Stop Dat’, the album takes on a certain shape, though at times a rather unsettling one. Schizophrenically hot-stepping between cutting edge garage and hip-hop rooted rhymes and statement, originality is assured. Undoubtedly the crowd pleaser to gee up the most muted of masses, is straight up beat dropper ‘Fix Up, Look Sharp.’ Ingeniously sampling classic rocker ‘The Big Beat’ by Billy Squire, Dizzie stays true to his grammar – much like on the whole album - amidst a hail of enthusiastic ‘whoooooos’. Elsewhere the catchy operatic pronouncement of ‘Jus’ A Rascal’ promises to win over a few listeners by sheer brainwashing if anything. The above tracks apart, the rest of the album lacks the clarity and channelled assertiveness necessary to make you want to play it over and over again. This should nonetheless do little to tarnish the album as an important and impressive body of work from a regular 19 year old street dreamer, a statement of how it is and most definitely how it could be. It is particularly poignant that the album opens on a confessional complaint but finishes resoundingly on the positive and determined ‘Do It’.

The fact that this album captured the Mercury Music Prize, serves both to please and infuriate in equal measure. Voices within dependent upon melody, solid instrumentation and a little song structure scoff at the idea of this being the best album of the year. Conversely at a time of misunderstood black culture and not ‘So Solid’ truth telling, it may just be the most important. Unprecedented exposure has resulted. He’s recently collaborated with dance music’s Brixton rooted bad boys Basement Jaxx. Much like the Streets’ offering last year, this will be name checked and sought out as THE slice of raw underground pirate radio culture commentary. Admirable values permeate this album; it’s reassuringly original and undeniably British. ‘It’s now or never’ for this rascal and he’s making it. Roll deep if you please.