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Skepta - Microphone Champion

Released 1st June on Boy Better Know

All grime (arguably all rap) music sits on an uneasy paradox by both lamenting and glorifying the pressures of blue collar black culture. Exposing the council estate of mind bred by gritty inner cities invariably comes with a fierce pride in how they were survived, a lot of 'conscious' MCs ring hollow when simultaneously filling their bars with threats, curses and intimidating arrogance. Skepta sidesteps this dilemma by focusing entirely on the latter, producing an album which is forward and energetic but ultimately as vain and shallow as the man himself.

No-one does modesty like Joseph Adenuga. Microphone Champion follows 2007's Greatest Hits as the definitive sound of Skepta's ego, now grown so comically huge that the next album may well just consist of him continually shouting his own name for fifty minutes. This slightly ridiculous self obsession has in a way always been part of his charm, mainly due to the endless clever and funny similes by which he bigs himself up, but that alone couldn't sustain Greatest Hits and it doesn't sustain this.

Like most Boy Better Know releases the tone is relatively light both lyrically and musically. Skepta's lines, like those of his brother, are witty and enjoyable to listen to, although may irritate those that take grime (too?) seriously. The production is extremely dancefloor friendly - in a cheesy way - and highly varied, borrowing from funky, commercial electro and R&B with mixed degrees of success. This abandonment of any semblance of integrity is indicative of the album's lack of depth but may make it more accessible to non-grime fans. Several tracks have the potential to capture the same reaction as Wearin' My Rolex: take that whichever way you want.

A handful of tracks worthy of comment: "Look Out" is the unparalleled nadir, the mix of creepy child-frightener Giggs and oppressive Fiddyesque production is presumably intended to give Skepta ghetto appeal but this seems more farcical with every ensuing song. "Ed Hardy Party", predictably, is reprehensible for entirely different reasons: how much is Skepta being paid for this and couldn't he have put a better track together with the money? But on a positive "Too Many Man" is already to be heard being sung by rudes across the land, in my opinion deservedly so, and "Sunglasses At Night" perfectly captures the guilty pleasure factor which at points make this album very fun indeed.

52 minutes is just too long to hear the constant self promotion of a smug blustering little troll, but in small doses it still has the potential to charm. Maybe Skepta should write a song about how his style lends itself poorly to anything more than isolated plays and is therefore unlikely to ever result in a worthwhile album. He could call it 'Single'. Oh hang on

Tom Burton