Send "Dizzee Rascal " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Pitchfork |
 On his first proper LP, Dizzee Rascal claimed, "If I had the guts to end it all, believe I would," and would go on to say that In Utero is his favorite album of all-time, but I think it's safe to say that was an artistic judgment call as opposed to an endorsement of a particular career path. Dizzee's embrace of success and fame has directly coincided with his actual accrual of both, and if Maths + English tentatively sought to establish him as a globetrotting good-life playboy, Tongue N' Cheek takes that guise to its logical extreme.At first glance, Tongue N' Cheek would appear to be Dizzee's slightest work-- 11 tracks, about 40 minutes, self-released, silly title, sillier cover. Not to mention the combination of producer one-offs (go ahead and find another album with both Shy FX and Tiësto), been-around-the-block singles, and "did they clear that?" samples that could make it come off like a placeholding mixtape. But whatever romantic vision one might have of his days of ringtone-influenced scavenger sounds, you can't forget that his work on Basement Jaxx's "Lucky Star" remains every bit of a high point in his early career: He sounds damn good over trashy, flashy electro that manages to keep pace with cadences as hyperactive as his own, and, above all, he's way more fun than he's often given credit for. "Bonkers" exhibits a deferential Dizzee offering a single, cyclical verse to serve as backdrop for Armand Van Helden's wildly distorted bass rips and drum rolls. "Road Rage" achieves a similar success-- despite the easy read that some form of mental illness informs the first two tracks on Tongue, they come off more like a celebration of instability. Tempo is key, though-- when saddled with Calvin Harris' straight-laced H&M disco, one feels more inclined to wiggle into a pair of designer jeans than to shake one's ass (see "Dance Wiv Me", "Holiday")....full text |
| Independent |
| Taken Dizzee Rascal four albums to develop from cult exponent of a marginal London-based scene to fully fledged pop star bordering on youthful national treasure, a process that speaks volumes about the sustained commitment and support required to establish fledgling acts. The kind of support which the larger, more corporate record companies, hounded by the short-termism of talent-show telly, long since baulked at offering their charges. It also says something about Dizzee's own resources, few of his peers being able to stave off encroaching staleness over a four-album period. By contrast, the Rascal has grown more engaging with each release, a reflection of his openness to change and willingness to challenge ingrained attitudes. Including his own: explaining the use of sampled chants from Franco Rosso's 1980 film Babylon in the track "Can't Tek No More", he explains how "when I was a kid on the grime scene, I didn't really clock that all we were doing was what the reggae sound-systems used to do... so it's nice to be able to make that connection now."...full text |
| Guardian |
| Before 2007's Concert for Diana, Princes William and Harry submitted to an interview with Fearne Cotton, who asked them what kind of music they liked. "Chart toppers … poppy music … good old fashioned bands … listen to anything," they waffled, clearly men for whom music is just something other people play in the background when they happen to be in the room, which makes events backstage at this years' Wireless festival in Hyde Park seem even more incredible. In a scene apparently scripted by Ricky Gervais, then rejected for being too excruciating, Prince Harry once more evinced his unique take on race relations by striding into Dizzee Rascal's dressing room offering a "street handshake". To his credit, the rapper reacted in the way you might hope a guy from one of east London's racier areas would if a honking Hooray started making with the what-up-blud?, and offered to thump him. Buy it from Buy the CD Download as MP3 Dizzee Rascal Tongue N Cheek Dirtee Stank, CD 2009 Here was incontrovertible evidence of how perception of the former Dylan Mills has shifted. Even after winning the Mercury Prize for his debut album Boy in da Corner, it still seemed as if the only way Dizzee Rascal was likely to meet a royal would be if the latter was on an official visit to some kind of secure facility: his lyrical image, after all, rested on being a violent – possibly mentally ill – trouble-magnet. Worse, it seemed very much founded in reality. Every time he left his home, his manager recently bemoaned, "guys would come and attack him with concrete posts". And yet, here he is, a regular chart-topper enjoying – or at least enduring – the company of the third in line to the throne. Understandably, his fourth album is a kind of victory lap, a 45-minute revel in the fact that no one wants to hit him with a concrete post any more. It's Never Mind the Bollards. It would seem less amazing if he'd achieved this by cynically toning down his lyrics and shamelessly popping up his sound. There are certainly moments on Tongue'N'Cheek when it seems that's exactly what he's done: Dirtee Cash is based around an insanely radio-friendly sample of the old Adventures of Stevie V hit, while on Can't Tek No More, he employs the same edge-of-hysteria voice he once used to announce that he was going to steal your mobile then stab you – but this time it is to huffily complain about the congestion charge...full text |
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