Clubs

We’re dancing in the darkly intense main room of Herbal to an eruption of dubstep sub-basslines, adrift in the rhythms, when suddenly we hear ‘Bring it back selectah, REWIND!’ boom over the speakers. Enchanted smiles slip upside down as the man behind the mic spits meaningless trash and ruins the thrilling, bass-drilling tunes. ‘Bloody MCs…’ someone behind us groans. If only Roots Manuva was employed in clubs.

It’s a familiar scenario at bass-driven venues. Here they are primarily hosts, but often MCs’ verbal dysentry overpowers the music rather than punctuating it, leaving many with the feeling that they’re a waste of time. ‘If an MC started blubbering rubbish, I would get some duct tape out!’ and ‘Why play the music if you’re going to have someone chat crap over it?’ are just some of the comments on the 1Xtra message-boards. Drum ’n’ bass pioneer Fabio runs an MC-free night, Swerve, because he wants ‘the music to be the main focus’.
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So trust Soul Jazz records to hammer home the message that MCs are, in fact, well decent. Its latest compilation, ‘An England Story’, documents MC culture in the UK since 1983, taking listeners from pioneering Jamaican reggae stars like Papa Levi and Tippa Irie to younger garage and grime blood Stush and Riko. It was plucked from a mix strung together two years ago by the club and label Heatwave, whose compiler Gabriel says: ‘Their role is to entertain and introduce the songs, forming a social interaction between the audience and DJ.’ He made the mix to cement how unique UK MCs are. Tippa Irie, who broke the fast chat style, insists that MCs add ‘vibes, spirit, soul, truth, enjoyment and most of all, a good message’ to music. But clearly there’s a huge difference between inexperienced MCs/hosts at club nights, and well-seasoned storytellers like Irie.

It’s another matter with grime and jungle, too. As Radio 1’s Mary Anne Hobbs explains, ‘Here the MCs are king.’ It’s their lyrics that fans hang on to, but many disagree with their negativity. Such styles directly contradict the humourous social commentary MCing that Jamaican immigrants brought with them to the UK in the early ’80s. Warrior Queen, who features on the compilation, is one of them. ‘Everyone does their ting their way but I don’t think lyrics should tell the audience “I’m blingin’, I have this and you don’t, and you’re not as wicked as I am”.’ However, grime MC Riko, of the Roll Deep crew, explains, ‘It’s a valid point but from the new grime MCs’ point of view, nine times out of ten the worse things you say the better. If you’re talking about bad stuff people are gonna listen more.’

MCing’s history is documented on disc, but what’s the future? Gabriel sees it becoming even more popular as dubstep, grime and dancehall
continue to cross over. He also believes Jamaican MC characteristics will feature more prominently in those scenes, with acts like Toddla T pushing the sound. Grime-wise, Riko says ‘People think we just chat a load of violent stuff, but now it’s better because now we’re making songs with melodious MCing.’

Even the new breed of bass-loving Shoreditch clubs are starting to use MCs. Batty Bass’s Hannah Holland says: ‘MCs get it wrong when it becomes all about them standing up and swinging their cock about instead of adding another dimension to the music. I work with MC Chickaboo as she has a real personality and together we add something new to the scene.’

Irie is positive too (‘So long as we keep it clean and deal with good topics’) but ends with a final warning to MCs of the noughties: ‘When we [founding MCs] chat you can hear every word loud and clear. I would like to see Dizzee Rascal, Wiley and Kano clash with Tippa Irie, Papa Levi and Macka B and see who would win.’ Now that’s a three-on-three that we’d like to see!

‘An England Story: The Culture of the MC in the UK 1984-2008’ is out on March 3 on Soul Jazz.