Big It Up For The Small Towns

I was listening to Lamacq Live (show of November 15th, available here but not for much longer I reckon), where Lady Sovereign was presenting a special report about MCs from the countryside. As they put it, “Can you be street if you live in a lane?” Let me just say that if you’re one of those hataz who can’t take UK hip-hop seriously because of the funny accents, you ain’t heard nuffin (well, nothing quite as funny) until you’ve heard a Scottish MC freestyling to grime.

It was a sweet little program, but a little depressing. There were a lot of exchanges like this:
Lady Sovereign: So wot do you rap about?
Random Cornish/Welsh/Scottish MC: About life and stuff.
Lady Sovereign: Yeah, so, like wot?
Random Cornish/Welsh/Scottish MC: Dunno, really. Not much happens round here.

At least I’ve finally found a watertight argument against Alec ever moving me to the countryside. My future career as a top MC would clearly be jeopardized.


  1. My sole experience of UK “hip-hop” (I hesitate to use the word freestanding in this case) and its funny accents has been with the GLC. I am bloody addicted. I can’t stop listening to them. I think this confirms what I always knew about my degree of musical sophistication and mental age.

  2. Jol, I have not the words.

    Having said that, Guns Don’t Kill People Rappers Do is one of the best song titles ever. It’s right up there with Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues (by McLusky).

  3. Inarticulacy – from a hip hop artist – never!

    Anyway, I suspect your future as top MC (cough!) is more at risk from where you live now.


    Singapore. Lavish condo’s and private houses.

    Country. Outside toilets, poor insulation, leaky roof, proper slum init?


    Singapore: Banned.

    Country: On your shoes, under your nails, it’s basically full of the fucking stuff.

    Slappin up bitches:

    Singapore. Even after reservist training, it would be a brave man would hit a Singaporean girl.

    Country. A pleasant social activity after a pint of ten down the pub. Then maybe some sex, Maire.

    Drive bys:

    Singapore. Hampered by cost of private car ownership and the reluctance of ah bengs to stray outdoors.

    Country. A pleasant social activity that allows one to fully commune with mother nature. Horses may be used where still legal, though quad bikes are fast becoming the country gansta’s vehicle of choice.


    Singapore. Admittedly, no shortage. Though limited grasp of English prevents any real sassyness.

    Country. Maire gives it out for a drop of whiskey and a sack of spuds. Excessively sassy, though incoherent following the stroke and gingivitis.

  4. Once I had a boyfriend with a generally sunny outlook on life. Then on his last visit here he read almost all of my Sandman collection.

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