Tears fall... (Swiss - Cry)

Swiss isn’t the guy you remember from So Solid. Honestly he’s not, he’s a background figure. He spits a bar every now and then, but more than anything he feels like ‘part of the crew’ than a stand out figure. They say it’s always the quiet ones, and this is a story that reeks of the utterance ‘the meek shall inherit the earth’, for now, in the year 2010 Swiss that stands as testimony to So Solids ‘legitimate legacy’ more so than any other. It’s not the beauty and business acumen of Lisa Maffia (although the point could be argued), it’s neither of the girlies favourites; Romeo or Harvey, and it’s not Mega. The only other name that enters the fray to make this ting ‘photo finish’ is Asher D’, and he is out done on (almost) one factor alone. He didn’t make ‘Cry’.

There is a difference between glamorising a lifestyle and trying to find glamour in a lifestyle that is inherently disturbing and hard. Grime is the sound of my generation, and it’s easy to mistake intentions or twist the words that leave people’s mouths but the truth of the matter is you are listening to people who are or have been navigating struggling. We are the ugly side of burgeoning capitalism, the hungry of a vastly successful city. It is the common consensus that we are in this position because we are lazy. So by and large, we grind. In the space of all these needs we have that must be met, emotion (or at least its more vulnerable nuances) falls by the wayside. Our music mirrors this fact fully, for it has taken a notable amount of time for any emotion the mainstream could really empathise with to permeate this genre. This is why the song ‘Cry’ whilst although not being Grime, is part of the true aficionado’s citizenship test. Obviously as points go it’s debateable, but I would put it to you (as I can, for frankly it is my blog) that should this city become its’ own republic tomorrow, ‘Cry’ would be in sharp contention for the role of ‘national anthem’. 

Everybody remembers the track word for word, bar for bar (well, at least a majority large enough for me to make this statement) but it’s not lyrics alone that sets this track so far apart from others. The tracks namesake is pulled along by Swiss’s vocal tone which sounds teary eyed to put it simply. His delivery is hurried, blurted almost like a man pleading to get his (side of the) story across. He begins with the line “I swear it was like the time when...” which is appropriately conversation for what follows. Over the space of 4 minutes Swiss takes the listener on a journey which is both cathartic and  painful at the same time, the language of violence, the nature of jealousy, familial relations and the normality of other criminal activities are all touched upon, with poignancy and clarity. He achieves a duality on all the aforementioned subjects that shows not only mature understanding of causality, but also an inability to fully yield to the pressures put upon him. He talks of darker things such as addiction and the common distrust we have of a society which has and still does economically profit off of the socio-political destabilisation of Africans and African Diaspora. Whilst bringing issues to light and challenging himself, as well as the listener to take ownership of problems and the solutions bound to them.  The song calls for action, because it never renders the listener or artist powerless, it empowers instead. It was easy to write a piece like this about the song, but my language is haughty overbearing. I don’t even think there are metaphors or other such literary devices in the lyrics for the song, it doesn’t need them, it would make something so nigh on perfect clumsy (in a similar fashion to the commercial cuts chorus). It’s four minutes of straight magma, and it won’t be forgotten by any die hard anytime soon. Neither will Swiss, or So Solid for that matter!

Too put a long article simply. That’s Comrade Swiss to you... show some manners.

Grime mio fratello...

Two things are vastly inexpedient here; emotions and morality. Emotions are for the weak, or so I’m told. Therefore it’s a common spectacle to see people attempting to blot them out, trying their hardest to throw bravado at life’s bigger issues. You could problem drown in the sea of tears we’ve collectedly cried at sometime, but you wouldn’t know it, for here we make sure business produces more flow than tear ducts. When I say morality, I mean your sense of it, not ours.

It’s funny how such things share kinship without actual connection, for in ‘gangland’ where the grime generation was born, we are ‘men of honour’ and those not sharing our ethos are ‘abject spies’, each one of us considering our selves ‘Bello Mafioso’ in some way, shape, or fashion. In this place that grime built, poignantly it is Grime that is increasingly the sound of ***. In terms of music, the ‘Bello Mafioso’ sound that is grime, Wiley will always be ‘Il Padrino’. Only he could have his name legitimately shot to pieces yet still emerge seemingly unscathed, as a scene we have seen it, more than once.  Dizzee is our prodigal son, the 1^st to ‘make it good’ and lay the blueprint for a competent/ thorough Grime album. The scene has its ‘made men’, legends such as D Double E who have been around since the starting days, and could probably ‘duppy’ any given rave with a verse about the weather, let alone any infamous material. No scene is without tragic royalty and ‘young pretenders to the throne’ and we most certainly have the latter and the former. The loss of pioneering lyricist Escobar is a memory still sore in the mind of any true grime fan, and Crazy Titch interviews and tracks recently released have garnered the attention befitting to them. Titch most certainly stands testament to the spirit of this place and its musical culture, for it seems not even prison can stop this man from imposing his talent and venom upon the world. That is why I use mafia synonymous language to describe this scene, Titch will be heard regardless of his apparent error in judgement, and you will remember his name. Furthermore, he firmly intends on dictate which grounds such memory will be anchored in. That my friends, is “Bello Mafioso”.

Having said that, you must forgive me, for it is not Grime I’ve intended to write about per se. Today, I want to talk about UK Hip Hop. One artist specifically, one track, which encapsulated what it is to be; young, black and living in the belly of the beast.

Immigration Problem...

I have no problem with the migration of people. How could I? This city was built on the influx of different cultures, and I myself come from a Barbadian 'windrush' family. However, having said that, I do have a problem with the migration of insects.

One question. Why are spiders seemingly getting bigger and bigger? Recently, we've been under attack. Somewhere between the spider that landed on my head a couple of weeks ago, causing me to flick my hair casually, thinking it to be just hair tickling my face (only to be confronted by the most fitness-first membership spider I have seen in quite sometime), and the 'Spider in the Bathtub' show these guys have regularly been putting on, its intimidating.
Furthermore, i'm certain these guys aren't english. As I type this there is a spider my mother described as 'the biggest she has seen in her life' at large in the bathroom - and she spent the 1st decade of her life in the Caribbean. I encountered it way earlier today, just sitting in the bathtub. I looked at it, and this creature with the face of Chuck Norris and 8 Usain Bolt legs, simply looked me in my face and responded "or'que!? O'QUE?!?". I left immeadiately, neglecting to ask for any documentation to prove his right to be here (or indeed just this things country of origin). I would've made an attempt on his life, but since myself and these things have entered into conflict they have surely got bigger each time. Since my cousin cretinously removed this menace from the bathtub but failed to deport it out the window from whence we assume it came, I have not gone back. All my powers of deduction have lead me to the conclusion that A) this creature is Brazillian and B) it is more than capable of grabbing me by my ankle as I attempt to go take a slash or shower and detaining me. No offence to all the Brazillian people I know (and dont for that manner) but i'd like to pass on kidnap. Especially on this factor alone; I could not tell you the intention of this Big Scary Spider...
Eeegh! Fire and Brimstone upon that spartan myth currently neandering its way around the place where I do my cleansing of self' where now pray tell shall i cast my ablutions?
I'm not a Yardie, but I will throw acid inna that tings face should the situation arise. On that note' does anyone perhaps still have any CS Gas Left over from the little phase our generation had?

BIZZY DOT FREESTYLE

The Calamity that fell from the sky (An Introduction of sorts)

There once was a... bwoi!... boy, don’t really work... so, calamity is the preferred term... okay, back a piece... There once was a calamity, twinned at conception, but solo at birth, who walked alone on this earth, a thirst for knowledge, his gift and curse, too eager to know, too eager to learn, he stared into the cities mechanism, observing cog's and gear's turning, until eventually his eyes burned.- Bizzy Dot

The calamity that fell from the sky

I’m new to this blogging ting! So, apologies if whilst I’m honing my craft, my writing comes across as sloppy, I assure you, that as I gain momentum my readers should find this easier to digest...

Hello, my name is ‘Bizzy Dot’. I am often asked, “What is a Bizzy Dot?”

There’s a line from a computer game that has always stuck with me, and serves most aptly in describing myself. ‘The calamity that fell from the sky...’

Although I was born in Whipp’s Cross hospital like many born in North/East London, I might as well have fallen from the sky. I am an anomaly, a calamity if u will.

There are a whole plethora of different factors which separate me in some way from my peers. Firstly, few have the ability to vocalise themselves like I. In a place where I personally know too many who are borderline illiterate, I am a child of verbosity, eloquent and outspoken, a contrived mixture of diplomacy and tumult. The strange spectacle of humility and arrogance pirouetting simultaneously, with about as much grace as Paris Hilton with a dusty nose.  I’m outspoken, and delight in being both vile and infantile in a very adult manner. Where many are ‘hood rats’, you could say I am and will always be a ‘hood brat’. You will find many from the underclass here. I however’ am Upper gutter class by virtue of thought and action alone.

I’ve lived here my whole life, and only left in the last 5 years; making me more East London than “Oi” by Mo’ Fire Crew, glued to a pair of Reebok classics, suspended from the side of a ‘69’ bus, via a rope fashioned of tied together weave-on’s. During my years growing up here, many misunderstanding of my orientation have sought to label me for the sake of expedience. Unfortunately, whether it be ‘nerd’ ‘geek’ or ‘coconut’, all the catch all terminology applied to me was never adhesive enough to stick. I’m not a fan of boxes, so I tend not to fit any of them. Where I’m from, the synonyms of ‘box’ are ‘punch’ and ‘coffin’. Once again... no thanks lol.

As much as I’d like to think I’m different (it’s a thought I’ve grown accustomed too), so many smaller nuances of my character are so East London, from an itching sense of hyperactivity, to an inherent need to scrutinise all interaction around me, for both perceived risks and opportunities.

As an aspiring entrepreneur and musician, money and fame would be nice, but the achievement of these things is neither goal nor aspiration of mine. One word describes what ‘phantom powers’ my big mouth (and the shorted brain attached to it); Consensus.

It is the one thing that I was born to upset. Almost every excepted ‘social norm’ I encounter I find foreign to me. The women I’m supposed to be attracted to, the colour schemes and types of clothing, clothing I’m supposed to wear, the music I’m supposed to have spinning out of my headphones’ and even the language expected to leave my mouth.

  I am ‘the calamity that fell from the sky’. And I like a little bit of misdirection. I often dress 'Candy Pop', more than anything because the album I’ve rotated most since my adolescence is ‘Holywood’ by Marilyn Manson. I like tall girls and curvy girls, (although my pint-sized girlfriend is testament to the power of big personality). I speak like the illegitimate love child of Oscar Wilde and Maya Angelou, who had Chris Rock and Sarah Silverman as babysitters.

The Mission statement of the charity organisation I belong to is challenging stereotypes, an utterance too close to my very nexus for me not to succeed in my current ventures. Truth is, I've never lived down my resentment of being called things like nerd or coconut, as one of the first kids in my peer group to know about slavery and colonialism, I sadly always knew that the world had plans for those who never knew enough.

I will use this blogspot periodically just to muse on general goings on in my day to day life, who knows? Maybe certain things will form regular segments etc. If there is one thing I can say confidently, it’s this; My name is Bizzy Dot... and if you don’t know who I am, wait six months, I ain’t going the long way round.

Yours Truly,

Bizzy Dot