Dizzee Rascal offered up hip-hop made up of mangled ear splitting collisions, almost explicitly against easy access, a record that you had to bite into hard to survive enjoyably.
The Streets were a much easier pill to swallow, a club kid who lazily palmed out a D. The dialogue between acclaimed by the music press and popularly loved has more chaos that people grant it. This would be a far greater travesty if most of the people making it onto the pop hip hop charts actually had anything to say or anything worth listening to.
Wiley has a much greater chance of falling squarely on the pop charts, partly because he manages keep humor, hook and originality perfectly juggled. Wiley's music also falls closer to a straight amalgam of rap and dancehall than Dizzee's icy curveball beats and synth stabs, dictating his verses with crystal clarity while riding a bouncy, repetitious style that complements his undulating basslines.
Here, he relates money as a gateway to insanity "Money is paper, how could paper be evil? Wiley once again shirks snares, dressing his kickdrums with top hi-hats and handclaps before sailing into a typhoon of mercurial synth bass. Pick U R Self Up.
Wot Do U Call It? Eskimo Interlude. Goin' Mad. Special Girl. Avalanche Interlude. Got Somebody. Ice-Rink Interlude. Next Level. Treddin' on Thin Ice. I Was Lost. Wot Do U Call It? Eskimo 5. Goin' Mad 6. Doorway 7. That's What I Need 8. Avalanche 9. Reason Got Somebody Pies Icerink Next Level
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