Grime in the Charts – Talkin’ da Hardest or Putting Money before the Mouth.

Conceived by angry black teens; born on the gritty streets of the Capital, grime music represented a demographic who felt ignored, trapped in a cycle from poverty to violent crime to premature death. American hip-hop could not suffice to present the individual nature of London poverty, the sexualised lyrics of R&B detracted from the situation on the streets, the gentle tones of neo-soul could not convey the anger felt by the black British youth. Like the conception of ‘punk' in the 1970’s, a new form of music was the only way to release the pockets of angst into the atmosphere. Grime meant race, class, poverty, teenage life on London’s mean streets, well…at least this is what grime meant until 2009.

The release of Dizzee Rascal (nee Dylan Mills, Alma matter the streets Bow, East London) Tongue ‘n' Cheek spelt the end of Grime as we knew it. Quirky beats were replaced by pop tones suited for 12 year old public school types and unsettling poetry substituted for slimy yet PG certified sexual lyrics similar to that of the Venga Boys in 1999. Money makes the world go round, this is especially realised for those born in to poverty, but much like the demise of American hip-hop from the harsh yet true Wu- Tang to the ‘P.I.M.P’ Fiddy Cent, money has become the goal for making music. The cost? Real music.

Dizzee is Grime’s poster boy: from pirate radio to Mercury Music Prize in 2002, he put the genre on the map. No one can forget the tale of teenage pregnancy in ‘I Luv U’ or the clever sampling of that prolific rock star Billy Squier’s ‘The Big Beat’ on Fix Up, Look Sharp. It was also his social awareness that caught the eye of white liberal card carrying males proclaiming ‘we used to fight with kids from other estates, now 8 millimetres settle debates’. The genre’s father Wiley of the Roll Deep Crew (of which Dizzee was a part of) held his corner by trying to push the movement forward through production as well as beats. But perhaps he pushed it too far. There is no denying that ‘Wearing my Rolex’ was an excellent song, assimilating grime and electro, showing where Grime could go. But whether in a positive or negative manner, progression is a slippery slope.

Since ‘Wearing My Rolex’, grime-pop has paraded the charts from Dizzee’s Bonkers, Skepta’s Bad Boy and grime’s answer to Take That, N-Dubz. There are some differences from the early to present style of the genre most notably empty statements like ‘some people fink I’m bonkers but I jus’ fink I’m free’ – straight from the mouth of Charles Manson himself, irritating meaningless sounds like ‘na-na-naaaaay’ and dancey Cascada-esque production . It seems that the few who are holding Grime in its truest form lack a sphere of influence, unable to permeate the mainstream force-field. Giggs seemed the only exception after he was nominated as one of the ‘Sounds of 2010’ by the BBC, but after being blacklisted from the 1xtra playlist it seems that whatever the reason for the decision, people still aren’t ready to hear the full unadulterated of grime sans pop, playing straight into the pockets of talented yet money-hungry grime artists.

In hip-hop rhetoric we hear statements like staying ‘true to the streets’ and ‘never forgetting your ends’. But when money enters the equation all ties to the ‘streets’ and ‘ends’ fray causing music to reflect money and not roots. There is nothing wrong with earning money, but staying authentic is also important. Either way, it is impossible to conclusively predict the future, but my strong prediction is a genre that loses its grit, grime and credibility.