Song 34: Dreamy Days

Dreamy Days - Roots Manuva

Rodney Smith has the misfortune to often be described as the British rapper people who don't like rap like. You'd have thought that would be a lot of people, but it seems there really aren't that many people who don't like rap but like it enough to like the rapper people who don't like rap like.

Because Rodney Smith -Roots Manuva - has never been terribly successful. Despite being called the King of British hip-hop, the elder statesman, the best rapper in Britain etc for a very long time, despite a Mercury Prize nomination, TV appearances which had people gushing that they were epoch-shaping (I remember this from Jools Holland) and general reams and reams of positive press, he's always stalled in the lower reaches of the charts.

You could say he rather missed the boat - UK hip-hop, in whatever form, is now extremely successful, but Roots Manuva has no part of the success of the likes of Tinie Tempah, Tinchy Stryder, Plan B (more of whom later) etc.

I think an interesting comparison can be made with Dizzee Rascal, another UK rapper who had the critical acclaim before he had the big success. People forget that Dizzee Rascal's first couple of albums, though loved by the "people who don't like rap" were not massive sellers. What he did then was decide to make pop music, get involved with Calvin Harris and make music which people would dance to. Fair play. If it was "selling out" (which it wasn't), Roots Manuva never sold out and doesn't seem to have wanted to.

This song might be as close as he came to it. It's also probably my favourite Roots Manuva song. Its sample is taken from the extremely mental Jimmy Webb song 'McArthur Park' (apparently the version by someone called Floyd Cramer, though check out the Richard Harris version), and it's some kind of love song.

Roots Manuva is a wonderful lyricist (I hope you agree) and perhaps the most noteworthy aspect of his field of reference is the total lack of America - he sounds very much like an Englishman, a South Londoner, but from before British black (and white) culture was so flooded by Americana. His main other reference point is his own origins, which are Jamaican - musically, it's dub and ska, dancehall, heavy heavy bass, not a pop sheen at all.

His lyrics got picked up for referencing pints of bitter and cheese on toast and wooden spoons, and he even has a video wherein he plays cricket. He is very clearly a rapper after my own heart.

And, to me, his vocal style represents an interesting dichotomy - he's warm and witty, engaging, once you're into it, but his tone is deep and declamatory (his father was a preacher which he says had a massive influence on his style, and that comes across not just in style but in his subject matter), a bit like Chuck D of Public Enemy, another rapper "people who don't like rap" love. What's funny is that the likes of NWA and Snoop Dogg (at least early) had real violence and threat in their lyrics, but allied it to that smooth pop sound, and in case of Snoop Dogg, that sweet pop timbre which makes mothers love him so.

So, Roots Manuva could probably never have been a pop star, he just doesn't sound like a pop star. But also he never acted like a pop star. He was, and I use the term through gritted teeth, an indie rapper. (I guess that's why the likes of me are fans of his, indeed how he made his way into our consciousness).

This song reminds me of late 2001, my friend Alexander, when he was staying with me at my mum's, also loving  the song, particularly the line - "I got particulars, you got particulars, whole circles are sick of us" and then when he moved, briefly into a flat in Brixton, thinking he might have spotted Roots Manuva on the bus. It's perfectly likely, and it's, I think, a bit of a shame that Roots Manuva has remained at a level where he probably only gets recognised on buses by those very few "people who don't particularly like rap but like the best rapper in the UK".