The future of hip-hop is sitting across from me. But darned if the kid slumped into the plush hotel armchair doesn’t look like your typical wannabe-gangsta teenager-oversized sneakers, jeans cuffed just so. But not many 19-year-olds can claim a prize-winning debut album, or boast about creating what just may be a whole new kind of sound.
That’s why Dizzie Rascal’s sitting here in a Toronto hotel lobby, far from his home in the UK, answering gushing journalists’ questions for the second straight day in a row. His very first show in North America goes down tonight, but instead of being a bundle of nerves, he’s all grins and rapid-fire conversation. Not unlike his record-while last year’s Boy in the Corner isn’t a barrel of laughs with its stark portrayal of London’s mean streets, his unique rapping style is mirrored in the way he talks-a catch-me-if-you-can barrage of verbosity that ducks, weaves, and lands a punch when you least expect it.
“It was more to do with if I make something and it doesn’t sound like nothing else that was around, like, say, garage or jungle, it didn’t matter,” Dizzie explains in his thick Cockney drawl. “And I just tried to find something interesting to put over it lyrically. That started from school, and since I left school and started using a proper studio, I just carried on, carried on, carried on… And the whole pirate radio element and the raves added to it-that whole frantic, spontaneous MC-ing, spitting mad for two hours… it all added to the music, the style of it.”
Immersed in the garage and jungle sounds that dominated the London scene but wanting desperately to produce something different, the young rapper hit upon a clever solution-he realized that his scattershot flow went well with abrasive UKG beats. The material was dark and jagged to suit the music-young Dylan Mills bounced aimlessly from school to school, more into hanging out on street corners than the hallways of academia. It took a teacher who noticed his interest in music to steer him away from the streets and into the studio.
“What he did was give me spare time in school at a time where my school career was just rotten,” he recalls. “Before school, lunchtime, after school, to use the computer room. So when it came to giving my big-ups on the back of the album, I had to mention Mr. Smith. He took a real interest in me and I was able to start making music because of it.”
Doesn’t quite sound like the kind of thing 50 Cent would go around talking about, now does it? While Dizzie’s had his own beefs with fellow UK crew So Solid (who are rumoured to be behind his stabbing in Cyprus last summer), instead of thuggish posturing, his songs are like short stories from the projects of east London. “I Luv U” offers up a he-said/she-said tale of teen pregnancy, full of raw anger and yet surprising understanding. Equally poignant is “Brand New Day”, which eschews the violence so often glorified in today’s mainstream hip-hop.
“With my album, I wanted to talk some real stuff. Not champagne and dealing and a lot of the cliché stuff. I wanted to address some real issues and put some life into the music,” he explains. “I might as well talk something worth listening to, know what I mean? It isn’t all just dark, or about the streets-some of it is comical, humorous, even. It was interesting to see what I could come up with.”
What he came up with was a critical and commercial hit. Reviewers at home and across the pond wasted no time in anointing the young rapper the new saviour of hip-hop, and Boy in the Corner sold over 200,000 copies in the UK alone.
“In a way, it’s interesting to hear what people have got to say about what you’re doing, or how they perceive it. I’m still going to get on with what I do, regardless, but it is interesting to hear, man. It’s amazing that people are feeling it and that it’s managed to reach this far. I’m grateful,” Dizzie enthuses.
A big part of the record’s success was its unexpected win of Britain’s prestigious Mercury Prize. The small debut record with its strange beats and quick Anglo slang masquerading as hip-hop beat out the likes of Coldplay, Radiohead, and The Darkness for the honour.
“I was baffled. It was overwhelming,” exclaims Dizzie, nearly falling out of his chair as he leans forward for emphasis. “I’m the first black person to ever win it, I’m the youngest person to ever win it. And that’s not even the point-it was one in a thousand applicants-it was my first album, it only just got nominated because it came out at the right time. I had just came straight from the underground, basically, no mainstream success, so it was just amazing to win.”
So young, so talented, so successful. So far? Things have gone beyond his wildest dreams at home, but there’s that little matter of breaking into the North American market. Ignore the (media-fuelled) hype, the MC shrugs. The music will speak for itself.
Later that night at the Mod Club Theatre, the uncomfortably packed house listens to DJs spin some tasty garage cuts, but they’re a typical Toronto crowd, stiff and restless. That is, until Dizzie Rascal and his two-man backing crew (a DJ and another MC) take the stage. With laser beams cutting through clouds of dry ice, and some fans near the front of the stage waving a huge British flag, Dizzie opens his mouth and lets fly. And the crowd hangs on every last word for close to an hour. He freestyles like a champion. He says nice things about T.O. And sounds like he means it. He stands on the massive stage looking very small and very young. But the words. They come fast, and they come furious.
With the Toronto stop one of only two North American dates scheduled for Dizzie on this go-around (the other was New York) – it might be premature to predict a warm welcome on these shores for the rap prodigy. He may have proved himself at the Mod Club that night, but he’s not taking anything for granted, willing to work hard and push himself to do even better.
“It’s amazing to come a thousand miles away from home, and people are listening and liking it – makes me want to just get back in the studio and do more!” he declares. “I’m a big fan of just music, full stop. And to have the ability to make music for me is just a big blessing, and it’s mad to be at this level where I can contribute. I can’t think of anything better.”
