Dizzee Rascal - 'Boy in Da Corner'

This is a review I did a while back. I never really showed it to anyone. It was mostly written whilst procrastinating over Uni work.

Dizzee Rascal – ‘Boy In Da Corner’

“Mc’s better start chattin’ about what’s really happenin’” – Dizzee Rascal

It was in 2002 when on his album, ‘Get rich or die trying’ rapper, 50 Cent self-assuredly sang “I’m bout my money you see, girl you can holla at me if you fucking with me, I’m a P.I.M.P”. I’m not really sure what 50 was trying to communicate when he rapped that line in his widely successful single ‘P.I.M.P’. It made me realise that recently, the foundations of the rap and hip hop scene have been subjugated and pillaged by rappers with inflated egos and an undying obsession with money. As a result, it is becoming exceedingly difficult to relate to these commercially driven/women objectifying artists who show very few signs of humanity. Of course hip hop and rap as a genre serves its purpose of empowering its listener through talk of guns and violence and gratuitous sex often coupled with repetitive, head-bobbing beats and simple melodies, but often fails to transcend these generic limitations. It was a saving grace when in 2002, east London teenager; Dizzee Rascal released his self-produced, highly abrasive but most importantly heart-felt debut; ‘Boy In Da Corner’. Like many of his predecessors such as N.W.A and the Wu Tang Clan, Rascal tackles issues of poverty and violence with much of the album’s thematic focus on street life. However, where these archetypal rappers tend to focus on racial marginalization, Rascal adds a unique humane and poetic element to his material, shown primarily through his highly perceptive lyrics coupled with the albums unpredictable, earth-shattering beats and grimey melodies.

The opening track ‘sittin here’ personifies the sentimentality of the nineteen-year-old as he romanticizes about the innocence of children and the sad state of current affairs. His naturally self-aware disposition shown where Rascal self-defeatedly states “I think I’m getting weak cos my thoughts to are too strong” is empowered by the stripped-back beat and muted, spine chilling guitar that creeps into the depths of your anxieties and fears. He almost forces the listener to acknowledge and ponder their own meaningless existence in the world. These feelings of anxiety and inadequacy are then overshadowed by a grimy, pulsating synthesizer and explosion of a cheeky rudeboy accent (almost a mix of Jamaican/cockney) on speed as heard on the following track ‘Stop Dat’, similar to that of Busta Rhymes. The two opening songs are a clear insight into the temperamental and volatile character of Dizzee Rascal as the disquiet of ‘sittin’ here’ eventually culminates into an outburst of anger and street-fuelled aggression on ‘stop dat’. Rascal manages to maintain his aggressive and perceptive edge on following tracks “I Luv U” and particularly “Brand New Day” where he discusses issues of teen pregnancy, the loss of friends and bleak futures. Rather than simply rapping “fuck the police”, Dizzee offers more of a shrewd explanation as to why he generally dislikes police officers when on track ‘2 For’ he audaciously spits “I dont obey no policeman, cos they forget they’re human.” Preach, Dizzee, Preach.

‘Fix up, look sharp’ is based upon a sample from the Billy Squire song ‘The Big Beat’ and adds a light-hearted element to an album layered in anxiety-inducing cynicism. It’s a nice break in the album where the listener can kick back, turn the volume knob up and listen to some of the tightest rhyming in history and the most monstrous of all monstrous beats. Dizzee’s flaunting of himself in this particular track and ‘Just a rascal’ is both charming and loveable as it is set upon the backdrop of the albums perceptiveness and intellect. “Bring your first aid kit, and some antiseptic, this could get hectic”...we love you Dizzee, we really do.

Where the majority of rap icons identify themselves through egotistical, super-human banter, Dizzee parades himself as merely a mortal being. His ability to deconstruct and break free of hip-hop’s bulletproof vest, which so many rappers tend to cloak themselves in, resonates in his poetic verses, controlled and intuitive anger and paranoid minor chords. As unsettling and unique as Madvillain’s ‘Madvillainy’ and as bold and astute as Mos Def’s ‘Black on Both Sides’, ‘Boy in Da Corner’ goes down as one of those albums that sees its own generic limitations fizzle with its own ingenuity.


*** I think it's important to view this album for what it is and try ignore the fact that he's lost his mind as of late.