Take a stroll with me down memory lane. Or rather, down the annals of history. It's the 26th of November, 1976. The men and women of Great Britain were waking up to another brisk Friday morning. They were looking forward to the weekend as they munched on their porridge and toast, excited by the prospect of a lie in, and possibly a few cheeky ones at the local. They decide to treat themselves further, a quick song off the radio before they get back to the grind. "I hope they’re spinning that one Queen one about the bicycle," they thought to themselves.
And then,
they were greeted by this:
What utter magic. How utterly terrifying to the comfortable masses must this have been? To be living in your padded cell, lined with your Bowie posters and prog-rock moustaches, only to be torn out by your roots by this group of screaming uggos. Luckily for the intrepid historians among us, there’s no longer a need to look into the past for an examination as it’s happening right before us again. Enter Slowthai.
an orgasmic release of unafraid opinions
Tyron Frampton, the given name of the emergent rap wunderkind Slowthai, may seem the unlikely herald for a new age of punk. He’s quirky and jumpy. He smiles more than he scowls. He sounds like he's having too much fun. He’s not even from London! And yet, this is what makes him essential. From his mixed-race heritage and ADHD to his location and class, everything about him screams ‘outsider.’ Who better then, to lead the charge of punk's natural progression from guitars to microphones, away from studios and back to the council estates, corner shops and greasy spoons where it originated. Punk’s battlefields have always been street and cobbled stones, their enemies mundane modernity and settling for ‘that’ll do.’ The next wave wasn’t the stadium filler skate anthems of Blink-182, but the in-your-face obstinate growl of Skepta and The Streets, and Slowthai is has emerged to bear the torch.
Known for his thoughtful and innovative lyrical style, bombastic nature and cocksure ‘I do bite my thumb sir’ attitude, the English rapper has strode confidently into the public eye with his debut album ‘Nothing Great About Britain.’ Showcasing his talents as a storyteller, his inaugural effort sees the East Midlands native take aim at Brexit, racism and classicism while displaying an unwavering commitment to remember the forgotten. The post-article 50 UK has seen tens of thousands swept to the sidelines in favour of ‘the greater good.’ Bollocks to that says Slowthai, whose determination to put the emphasis back on the people is like watching a classic album form before your eyes. Equal parts funny, biting, cynical and political, ‘Nothing…’ is a manifesto scribbled on a chip shop napkin and its a tour-de-force to experience.
everything about him screams ‘outsider.’
Having both rapped and produced since he was in school has allowed for a unique style to develop, one that is both childish and inflammatory but also cold and precise. Whether he is ripping the royals and bouncers (‘Nothing Great About Britain’, ‘Doorman’), bemoaning those who take issue with his skin (‘Rainbow’), or discussing his previous occupations (‘Drug Dealer’), Slowthai seems to delight in applying some well-meant dysfunction to a situation. It’s less than one song before he labels the Queen a “cunt” and less than five before he compares an ex-flame to “crack.” Agitation is his ammunition, and an effective one in getting people to take notice, as abrasion to the norm becomes a standard throughout the album. Take his flow for instance, which is just as unpredictable and addictive as his former product. It ebbs and surges, sweet and cracking with emotion when talking about his Mother’s sacrifices on ‘Northampton’s Child,’ and then explosive and trenchant on ‘Inglorious.’ This contrast is essential in what makes ‘Nothing…’ such an exciting experience, as Slowthai is unafraid of injecting his rapping with a vocal emotional depth. The investment in the seriousness of his message, despite the slapstick nature of his delivery, makes for an all-around more believable product.
Indeed, it is the emotional baggage that separates Slowthai from the other whip-sharp, angry rapper out there. Like every great MC, his power comes from where he’s from, his community, and both his failures and victories. An extremely visual record that paints pictures of the dead-end lives of those from his estate, while poking fun at those who look down on anyone with open hands, the rapper challenges restrictions repeatedly throughout his songs. "Why if Brexit was supposed to make Britain great again, are things worse than ever?" it seems to ask, or "Why do people who have never met me get to decide my life?" The first law of thermodynamics dictates that anger is still an energy, and it's potent enough to propel the politically charged 'Dead Leaves' and the spoken word causticity 'Toaster' to furious new heights.
Where the anger comes from is no shocker either, with the growing disconnect between a nation and its people, a couple, or a man and his mind an ever-present metaphor throughout 'Nothing...'. Connections matter to an artist like Slowthai, who has only survived this long thanks to them, and are a prevalent image in most of his songs. From the yearning stoned introspection of ‘Missing’ to the grime-infused hometown heroics of ‘Grow Up,’ Slowthai sounds like a man looking to connect the dots and make sense of it all, pondering when flags and passport colours became more important than people (“I said there's nothing great about the place we live in, Nothing great about Britain (Nothing great about Britain). Sip a cup of tea whilst we're spittin’ There's nothing great about Britain.”) The Midlands whine of his vocals is both the perfect conduit with which to speak his mind, unafraid as he is to do so, and a visceral metaphor for his style. Unavoidable and impossible to ignore, like a bluebottle with a prediction for kamikaze style drives at your earlobes, it is with this unlikely voice that modern working class Briton finds its champion, a caustic one that advocates for your true colours to show, warts and all.
In true contrary fashion, ‘Nothing Great About Britain,’ despite its criticisms, is an unavoidably British album much akin to its spiritual successor ‘Never Mind The Bollocks.’ It’s an orgasmic release of unafraid opinions and prove-me-wrong petulance that could not have been created anywhere else. From its imagery and references to its influences and message, Slowthai has created a platform that has Northampton as the capital of its own Great Britain and sees no contradiction in every other settlement doing the same. For it is in the hands that placed the first brick that greatness is found, not the finished building, and it is in the people of England that Slowthai believes in, not their crown. An essential album for the modern landscape, Slowthai has announced his arrival as one of the most important new voices in music.
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