Lady Sovereign's Jigsaw: Keep Grime Grimy

by John McCurdy

Eww...you’ve gotten my grime all clean, Lady Sovereign.

I liked it the way it was: ridiculously disrespectful, horribly dissonant, and refreshingly genuine.

With her second full-length release, British lady rapper Lady Sovereign seems to have relinquished her title as “Biggest Midget in the Game,” though not because she’s grown any in the physical sense, mind you.

No, the reason she can no longer hold that moniker is that she’s not a part of “the game” anymore. Her second full-length release, Jigsaw, is a straight-up pop album (albeit a tolerable one), and not at all true to her London-style rap roots.

See, her first offering, Public Warning, told listeners to, ahem, “screw” themselves if they didn’t like her. Various tracks suggested haters give her “A Little Bit of Shh,” viciously made fun of other popular artists (“Tango”), and glorified attire banned at most clubs (“Hoodie”).

But on Jigsaw, Sovereign seems to have refocused herself; all of a sudden, she’s about marketability and trend-hopping rather than spitting what she really thinks. It’s not that the tracks aren’t enjoyable; it’s just that they aren’t her.

I’ll readily admit that “Pennies,” “Student Union,” and “I Got the Goods” are fun tracks, and that they might indeed have fit on Public Warning, but there, they would have been the softer tunes.

But here, they’re the hardest and closest approximations of grime, which is the genre of which I was sure Lady was a paragon. The rest of the album is well-produced, but you can’t tell me that “Let’s Be Mates,” “Guitar,” or, heaven forbid, the title track “Jigsaw” would have made the cut for a true British hardcore record.

I give her a pass for the sampling of the Cure’s “Close to Me” on “So Human,” as this is something we’ve seen other underground rappers from across the pond do with success.

But no way will I excuse the use of vocoder on “Pennies,” even if it’s minimal and the rest of the piece is solid. That’s just not something the Sov I know would do.

Maybe the change has something to do with her split from Def Jam Records; she’s now publishing under her own label, Midget Records. Still, wouldn’t that hint that Lady Sovereign has departed from the mainstream even more?

Her freshman offering was endearing because of her positively juvenile content and earnest irreverence; I mean, she was referencing the Mortal Kombat video game franchise, accusing a celebrity acquaintance of using too much fake tan, and boasting an entire track called “Random.”

But now she’s dropping pretty nondescript pop tunes, leaving me yearning for the sweaty, dirty...grimy sound of before.

K'Naan's Troubadour: Don't Call It a Reinvention

by John McCurdy

The term “reinvention” gets used a lot, so I won’t employ it here. But there is a certain newness to K’Naan, a Somalian-born rapper, who just came out with his third album, Troubadour.

We’ve seen lyricists come from other parts of the world - other parts of the third world, even, like Akon and M.I.A. - but I don’t think any of them have done what K’Naan has. While still remaining true to his heritage and beliefs, he has produced a hip-hop album that will please the American masses.

For sure, those who consume mostly top-40 music will enjoy K’Naan’s practically bouncy flow and perky beats. But I’ll contend that even true rap heads will appreciate his messages and attitude, as long as they can get past his somewhat juvenile voice.

Upon first listen, one might have a negative reaction to the boyish intonation and heavily synthesized tracks. Give it some time, though, and listen hard to what the man spits, and you might just discover that he does indeed know what he’s doing. And at the very least, you have to like the celebratory sounds that back him up.

Troubadour showcases such superficial pleasures as “T.I.A.”, “Bang Bang” (featuring the always-welcome vocals of Maroon 5’s Adam Levine), and “15 Minutes Away.” I won’t say that each of these is thought-provoking, but I’ll guarantee the majority of you will vibe to them.

Of course, more in-depth listening will glean gems like “Somalia,” “America,” and “Fire in Freetown.” These will indeed get an emotional response, as in each, K’Naan’s got something to say about the titular locations and their differing belief systems.

This is “poppy” stuff, not to be confused with the work of Three 6 Mafia, or even that of T.I. Think Lupe Fiasco’s Food & Liquor and you’re darn close; Troubadour is the work of a young, talented, and thoughtful M.C. over fairly sunny beats.

All this being said, the album isn’t flawless. While track variation allows the record to move without dragging, K’naan himself doesn’t do much to alter his own delivery. He isn’t the worst singer in the world, but as you hear him fill in on nearly every chorus, you’ll wish he left some of them to his guests, which include Damian Marley and Mos Def.

Troubadour is worth picking up, if only for the couple of lines on “Does It Really Matter,” the album’s professed club hit, in which K’naan pokes fun at the tired clichés of today’s rap: drops and auto-tune.

I’d recommend that you don’t give up there, though; there’s a lot to like here.