Our Gangsta
Indulge me in a late story from this year's SXSW-mainly because it was the kind of typical bad night that most people try to ignore. A lot of folks were excited to see Lady Sovereign, the UK rapper whose albums are a brilliant pop concoction. Sadly, her show at a Vice magazine party was a disaster before it began.
It was a never-ending story as her deejays had trouble setting up what seemed to be a simple backing track. Enough time passed that Lady Sovereign defaulted into an Ashlee Simpson moment. If that had been Prince Paul waiting in the wings, he'd have already stepped onstage and started freestyling. A young Latifah would've done the same.
In a similar spirit, Lady Sovereign had already been spanked by Spank Rock. The Baltimore act had their own earlier troubles setting up, but they quickly won the audience over through sheer determination. The audience laughed when rapper Naeem Juwan announced the forthcoming album was YoYoYoYoYo, but that was the only gag from what's too often dismissed as a novelty act.
The debut album further dismisses misconceptions with steely starkness in a sensual setting. The fearless act also thrives on a disdain for hip-hop's fatal trappings. They're as bling-free as Kraftwerk, with a reliance on simple beats that's downright artistic. Hear a Spank Rock track pumping from a Hummer that's 20 yards away, and it'll sound exactly the same behind the tinted glass.
It's no bass-heavy machismo, either. The closing of "Competition" is a seriously psychedelic moment-or, at the very least, something to cause serious neurological distress. There's pop ambition, too. "Bump" throws back to dopey hip-hop hit fodder in the '80s tradition, as acknowledged with a Kelly Bundy reference. "Sweet Talk" and "Coke & Wet" then bring you right back to the spastic modern age.
And while the raps may be sex-obsessed, Spank Rock sports a proud feminine side. Samples of girl groups from the Brill Building era would fit right in-not that Spank Rock bothers with samples, of course.
And, like all great rap artists, the men of Spank Rock thrive as music critics. They don't even have to be clever. Just ponder the inherent instincts of a crew that points out the following: "Some rappers act like we owe them something these days/Thinking they legendary when they're merely a craze."
Which brings us back to Lady Sovereign, who eventually made it onstage. She turned out to be Ashlee Simpson without the jig. Her reedy voice kept fading, and the audience got out of breath while watching her stall throughout her set. Earlier, a British publicist-attending as a big fan of Spank Rock-had laughed at the notion anyone was there to see Lady Sovereign. "You Yanks don't know anything about hip-hop," the publicist declared. Rightly so, and we should get it right this time.