Grant JonesWith so much rap music feeling hollow, message-less, and in both the mainstream and underground, like glorified poverty-shaming, it’s nice to just go back to the good ol’ days when rap was firmly anti-establishment. Unlike some of the old-timers here at RR towers, I’m fortunate to still be in my thirties, but that doesn’t prevent me from thinking back to what I would bump in my late teens and early twenties. This EP from London rap collective Chain of Command is the byproduct of a healthy rap scene in the UK, one that was splitting into three sub-genres. UK Rap, UK Hip-Hop and Grime may have all been eating from the same table, but the flavours were all very different. The first two were self explanatory versions of their American originals: UK Rap the commercially friendly style you’d hear on the radio, UK Hip-Hop the more traditional scene that eulogised 90s New York. Grime was British at its core (or more accurately, Black-British) possessing its own regional sounds and styles so it inevitably took over as the dominant, more marketable form of rap in the UK. Chain of Command was deeply entrenched in the UK Hip-Hop bracket, and they would often be found supporting American acts such as Immortal Technique, Non Phixion and Jedi Mind Tricks. That will probably give you an idea of both how they sound, and what they rap about.
While Grime does now feel like the natural rap soundtrack of London, I’ll always maintain “Rogue State”, Triple Darkness’ “Anathema” and Chemo’s “Squirrelz With Gunz” compilation (all from 2007) have just as valid a claim. All three contain production from either Chemo or Beat Butcha (or both) and their dark, heavy beats smack you over the head like a dry slap from your dad. It’s cold, it’s tough, and it’s the suitable aesthetic for a city drowning in concrete, dusty tube tracks and tired, pothole-heavy tarmac. On the rapping front, there are four emcees: Manage, Syanyde, Conflix and CLG. Manage remains active, and I’ll probably review his other work at some point, but the other three are largely unknown entities outside of Conflix being a bit of an internet forum favourite in the mid-2000s.
In fact, I haven’t heard Conflix’s name in years, and his verse on “Stress” is as good an introduction to him as any (he’s fourth). CLG’s deep vocal tone suits the hooks, acting as the warcry tying together each emcee’s perspectives as they share their grievances on the state of the country. This type of anger is less prevalent in today’s underground scene, or at least it’s not as easily identifiable by my radar.
If you only check out one song, it must be “Not In My Name”, an anthem for a small group of UK Hip-Hop heads at the time. I don’t know what Chemo was consuming when he made this beat, but it’s tougher than two Tysons chewing two two-dollar steaks. CLG’s hook adds such ferocity to what’s already a highly politically charged song; it’s no surprise Tony Blair resigned shortly after this EP dropped.
At seven songs, “Rogue State” remains the only release from the quartet, but it’s an early example of Beat Butcha’s talents. I mention Butcha in particular because he now produces for everyone in the Griselda crew and even worked with SZA. You can feel that dark aggression in songs like “Truss” that carries into his recent works, and while this is now confined to history as an obscure rap EP many in England didn’t even experience, it captures an angry, imposing version of London that feels genuine, heartfelt and suitably grimy.