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| Contactmusic |
 It feels like forever because that's about how long it's taken; after about a thousand false starts and broken promises however, in James Devlin it now seems like UK hip-hop has itself a genuine contender for greatness. Predictably the Dagenham born sound conspirator - who began making music in his early teens - emerged from the vibrant UK grime scene, debuting on the influential Rinse FM in 2006 before underlining his potential on mixtape release Tales From The Crypt. If this prodigal development showed promise and an air of confidence, despite it's awful title Bud, Sweat And Beers delivers to us an artist fully formed. Certainly it couldn't be accused of lacking ambition; weighing in at a mammoth fourteen tracks and drawing on a diverse range of musical elements from rock to r & b, it comfortably pushes well beyond grime's often limited horizons. Most will be familiar with the chart friendly single Runaway, a typically ambitious slice of urban drama boldly complemented by the redemptive neo-soul vocals of Yasmin. This softening of the rapper's hard nosed rhymes works to make the music more inclusive, but to his credit there are few punches pulled here, as into the usual geezer tales and top dogging are woven less expected subjects such as urban poverty and domestic violence. This determination to pursue normally off topic agendas do most to underline Devlin's star quality. It's best embodied on Community Outcast, a torrent of rhetoric that's also a passionate defence of the silent victims of the economic meltdown, humanising the struggle of those the media would have us believe are scroungers. Bitter and street-eloquent, it's warmth towards the helpless subjects is also genuinely moving. Ultimately though peering at our own reflections and prejudices doesn't wholly satisfy, and stars are there to be worshipped as the celebrity totems we raise them up to be. For Devlin this will be done via Brainwashed, his story so far driven by hyperextended rock dynamics a la Pendulum and a song with its gaze pointed firmly at an arena near you. For generations it seems British artists have talked just such a good game, but now though on this evidence we have a player that can blast away our thirty years of hurt. Andy Peterson...full text |
| Bbc |
| Essex has been getting a bad rap for years. Currently doing nothing for the county’s reputation is the admittedly hilarious semi-reality sitcom The Only Way Is Essex, perpetuating the myth that the notorious neighbourhood is populated entirely by flashy fellas and perma-tanned princesses and where a low IQ is almost as highly regarded as a personalised car number plate. Twenty-two-year-old Dagenham born Devlin is here to change all that. Showing us that Essex can be articulate, intelligent and interested in more than morphing into Katie Price, James Devlin – to give him his full name – is a razor-sharp addition to the UK rap scene, albeit one who sounds like he could do with a great big hug. Sonically, his closest neighbours are The Streets and Plan B before the latter donned the sharp suit, slicked his hair back and did his best Donny Hathaway impression. Unmistakably urban and boasting a pulsing social consciousness, Devlin’s own brand of street politics is shown to full effect on Community Outcast where, over laptop strings and computerised keys, he raps straight from the heart, spitting "I represent for the homeless / Let down by a nation/more interested in war and invasion / When children are sleeping in railway stations". Subtle it isn’t, but such heavy handedness is still moving when the subject matter is evidently so important to the songwriter. The subject matter rarely gets less weighty and the beats only heavier, with the thumping, guitar-grinding opener 1989 taking on his testing teenage years, the jazz-inflected, laidback grime of Days & Nights finding him promising to only "sleep when I’m dead", and the rather laboured religious imagery of Our Father. Brainwashed, Dreamer and Runaway are perhaps the poppiest of the album’s 14 tracks thanks to their female vocal-led choruses. But even so, they’re laced with an infectious melancholy that is rarely seen in the charts....full text |
| Nme |
| Devlin, the young Dagenham grime MC with a name that sounds like a brand of vacuum cleaner, first gained prominence hosting sets on pirate radio station Rinse FM as a 15-year-old. Back then his quick-fire cadence and compellingly brutal tales of council estate depravity were evocative of Dizzee Rascal (before he turned into a Butlins entertainer). Listening to the 21-year-old’s major label debut, it is clear that something has gone awry. His delivery on almost every song is laboured and morbidly languid; he’s beginning to sound, dare I say it, a bit doltish. You can’t blame Devlin completely, though. In a musical climate where Tinchy Stryder, the rapping Kermit The Frog, was the biggest selling British male solo artist of 2009, major labels will try anything to mimic the bafflingly popular midget’s success. Since last year a host of grime MCs – Tinie Tempah, Scorcher, Skepta – have been snapped up, and Devlin is just another name on this list. From start to finish on this depressing album the inoffensive, catchy chorus and characterless production mulch has been laid on thick in a bid to pick up tweens. The problem is, Devlin doesn’t alter his lyrics to suit this unfamiliar musical palette. You can get as introspective as you like on avant-garde grime beats but when you’re talking about your heart being “colder than Pingu” over emo pianos and sappy strings it just suggests that you’re yet to grow out of your Eminem obsession....full text |
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