Who Needs Action When You Got Words

The concrete jungle of London’s downtrodden and multi-racial East End is home to some of the most terrifying statistics BBC news has to report, as well as some of the hardest, filthiest hip hop and drum ‘n’ bass beats in the UK. The area’s many big mouthed, bigging-up MCs frequently play with the term urban poet, but rarely is it so aptly claimed than in the case of this young acoustic guitar-playing, Bukowski-reading, Radiohead-loving rapper.
Plan B is to the East End of London what Damien Dempsey is to the Northside of Dublin: heavily influenced by the indigenous music of his peers, but completely radical in his delivery and lyrical content. Like Dempsey, he talks about what he knows best: his life, and that of those around him. As a result, the usual dick-measuring rap slag is ignored in favour of the kind of explicit street reportage and first hand observation that gives a voice to the voiceless.
Take for example the album opener ‘Kidz’, where he’s talking about a heroin dealer on his estate from the point of view of a 14-year-old-boy: “I wanna be just like him, riding in a blacked out Beemer with alloy rims, doin’ drive bys, firing an AK-47 out the window and thing/That kind of shit impresses me, 'cos I got an ignorant mentality, the way I see, nothing will ever get through to me.”
Rape, drugs, gun crime, knives, racial abuse, crackheads, murder, hatred, absent fathers, poverty, violence, jail... It’s an uncomfortable listen, but one that should definitely be persevered with. This album will be looked back on in years to come as one of the defining records of our generation, whether it sells a million copies today or not. But it should. In fact, it should be on the national curriculum. Seriously, it’s that good.