‘Blame the f***ing government’
From the sick to the very ill indeed, Venetia Rainey talks to UK band Foreign Beggars’ Metropolis about all things hip hop
UK hip hop is a tricky genre to define. Some people argue that it is just a pale imitation of the original American hip hop, a music born in the basements of New York at the moment when MCs and DJs decided to mix together their respective talents. Some people daub it with the tainted brush of grime, calling to mind more mainstream artists like Dizzee Rascal, Wiley or, dare I say it, Lady Sovereign.
There is, however, a middle ground. A genre of music which has taken the best of both worlds and has ended up with a versatile sound with attitude, soul-crushing beats and an incredibly high standard of rapping, or rhyming. Foreign Beggars encapsulates everything good about UK hip hop. From the chilled out melodic vibes of ‘Mind Out’ (ft. Skrein), to the notorious aggressiveness and tongue-tying raps of ‘Hold On’, Foreign Beggars’ style is not easily pinned down or summed up. So when they came to play in York earlier this year, in the suitably incongruous arena of the Working Men’s Club on St Lawrence Street, I seized the opportunity to see what they were all about.
The result was not quite what I expected. Never mind the fantastic performance, by the end of the night I was chatting to Metropolis himself, who, for those new to all this, MCs along with Orifice Vulgatron as part of the Beggars crew. Months later, having listened to their various albums and EPs (for an introduction I suggest Asylum Speakers), I decided to catch up with Metropolis and try to get an insight into the state of UK hip hop today. “I guess it’s easy for guys to say we’re an imitation of what’s happening in the States.” Metropolis begins, “To some extent we are, but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s some serious shit happening here. We’re where US hip hop was at before everyone got big and they started churning out bland shit. I can easily draw parallels between Taskforce and Organised Konfusion.
“I think the scene has some pretty sick rhymers and producers, and it’s getting bigger and better everyday. I think we need to have more infrastructure though, more hip hop nights, and we definitely need more support from the industry.” Support from an industry which, as becomes more and more evident, would rather promote mainstream “bland shit” than new and more financially risky material. Thus, presumably, why Foreign Beggars felt the need to set up their own label, Dented Records, to promote UK hip hop artists otherwise neglected and voiceless. Sadly, it is still very much “the industry” that controls what and who we get to hear in terms of music. Unless, of course, you go looking for the un-championed, slightly less glossy stuff.
“Dubbledge, Ghost Town, Hudson Mohawke, Jid Sames, Fallen Angel, Mr Dick, Stig and [Dr.] Syntax, London Zoo”, Metropolis lists without pausing for breath. “Skrein’s got some dope stuff coming out, and I know Mad Head’s doing ill shit from all different genres” There is no shortage of artists pioneering UK hip hop, apparently, they just don’t necessarily get played on Radio 1 or Choice FM as much as, say, American hip hop.
We move away from the UK “ting”, and onto the music-makers he rates, British or otherwise. “I’m gonna be a bit cheesy here and say Orifice is definitely up there. Dude works hard. From running the label, to being the craziest guy you’ve seen on stage, to dropping the illest verses in the studio; he gets the most respect. On a less cheesy note, guys like Doom for his originality and general sickness, Pharoahe Monch for being the illest lyricist alive, Jehst for being the sickest producing lyricist on the face of the earth, or maybe that would actually be Necro - naah! I can’t support that bullshit! - El-P [El-Producto] for constantly showing the mainstream the middle finger. Jay Dilla was the man though. Actually he gets the most respect on all levels.” ‘Ill’ by the way, means good, as does ‘sick’. This is London slang, and it is this quintessential London mentality that oozes from Foreign Beggars’ every song that, for many, makes them so addictive. It is, as he astutely puts it, “a London ting”, and anyone from London is able to instantly connect with this aspect of their music.
We’re where US hip hop was at before people got big and started churning out their bland shit
But despite the obvious talent, ambition and energy that pulses through hip hop (UK or not), for many there will always be the shadow of the inescapable dark side: the gangster and gun culture. “It’s part and parcel of hip hop music, but it’s not the be all and end all. When you think about it, guys like N.W.A, [Ice] Cube, the whole Death Row collective, whatever, all started out giving social commentary on what their situation was like in the ghetto. You wanna know who’s to blame? Blame the fucking government! Rappers wouldn’t rap so dang violent if young blacks weren’t neglected by a racist mainstream society, born into a situation of severe poverty where crime and sport are the two main ways young people feel they can get rich.”
These seem like hasty words, but then again, who am I to argue with someone who has grown up in a completely different world from my own, a world in which his nickname at school was ‘Faeces’ (“Racist fucks!”). Orifice Vulgatron’s too was ‘Brown Eye’. “Multicultural England? My ass!” Metropolis spits vehemently. “The funny thing is middle-class white America made that shit popular! And it’s a similar situation over here now where middle-class England are championing grime music, ‘cause it gives them a sneak peek into a world they’re fascinated by but could never, and would never, want to be a part of.” That, along with how the music actually sounds, I think silently, being myself a middle-class girl who avidly consumes a genre of music concerned primarily with a world which, I admit, I would never want to be a part of.
Their wide ranging fan base (from middle-class to pretty much anyone) is clearly reflected in the various locations that Foreign Beggars have been sneaking us a peek of their phenomenal beats and lyrics across the UK (and Europe). Including, of course, York. “Yeah, we played in York. Mad love to what we call ‘Bobcat’ who’ve brought us out there the past few times. Those are our peoples. Shout out to Fenna Rhodes as well.” This “shout out” is curiously fitting considering that was how rappers first began, by literally introducing, or shouting out, their friends and the DJs at a show. Thus they became ‘MCs’, which of course normally stands for Master of Ceremonies.
Our conversation draws to a close as I ask about any particularly insane performances. “There’s been some hectic ones. We played a gig at an Oxford ball and had the guys moshing in their tuxedos and ball gowns. We even made them stamp out the expensive-ass geraniums and shit! We got mad stories, but I won’t go into depth about any ‘cause I don’t wanna incriminate the mans dem. What happens on the road and all dat…”
