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Camille Tejeda

The Significance of Grime in Black British Culture

In today’s global society, cities and urban metropolitan areas are hubs of diversity.

People from entirely different backgrounds and nationalities living in these areas all grow to adopt similar traits and habits, creating cities that are as unified in culture as they are vastly different. Busy streets and herd mentalities are responsible for forming shared personalities among inhabitants that are unique to each city. Looming grey clouds and stressful workdays, for instance, influence the dismissive personality indicative of a typical Londoner. When the workday comes to a close, pubs in London are seen overflowing with patrons enjoying and sharing drinks with their friends. Bars and clubs late at night can be heard pumping the rhythms of electronic, hip hop, and grime music into the veins of London’s population; the heartbeat of the young British city. Though diverse in individual heritage, London remains unified in culture—particularly, the engagement in and consumption of Black British music and street culture.

As Black British hip hop and grime music, along with the culture associated with it, has begun to infiltrate the mainstream, the historical value of the art form has been diminished into pure entertainment by several consumers. However, it remains increasingly important to understand the significance of Black British music as a tactic in ensuring cultural survival. More than simply an outlet for art and entertainment, the cultural form has roots in the dense, complex history of the African diaspora in both Britain and the United States. Thus, there is value in analyzing the creation and expansion of hip hop and grime music, coupled with the emerging

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lifestyle and customs associated with it, as a way of keeping Black British history alive. This essay will accordingly aim to explore the historical value of Black British music as a platform for remembrance and unification among Black British migrant communities.

In order to properly analyze the value of modern Black British music, one must first attempt to understand the role played by migration in the creation of a single Black British culture. For years, Britain actively participated in the African slave trade, dispersing many millions of Africans throughout British-owned plantations in the West Indies (National ​ Archives). The inhumane nature of these plantations forced a tangible divide between African ​ slaves and their British commanders, splitting the community into “black” and “white” from its very conception. The black slaves working in the sweltering Caribbean heat quickly formed their own communities as a means of survival, and the cultural norms varied from island to island.

Differing Caribbean identities thus emerged during this time and strictly African identities among the community members were quickly stifled. While this is a vast diminution of the intricacies of black culture in the West Indies during slavery, an explanation, however brief, of slavery in the West Indies is a crucial piece in understanding how a Black British communal sentiment came to be. Following the end of slavery, a mass Afro-Caribbean migration hit the streets of London. Migrants from different slave communities scattered throughout the Caribbean quickly found community among each other. Despite cultural differences, a single overwhelming similarity was impossible to avoid: their evident “blackness.”

As often observed among migrant communities, Afro-Caribbean migrants were faced with the challenge of finding their place among the established British culture in London. In her book Nomadic Identities: The Performance of Citizenship, May Joseph asserts that the identities ​ ​

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assumed by nomadic communities stem from the inherent desire for newcomers to feel a sense of belonging and citizenship in foreign scenarios. She defines citizenship to be larger than its legal definition, often referring to citizenship as “cultural citizenship” in order to enforce the idea that

“notions of citizenship are infused with public images,… informal customary practice,… accrued historical memory and material culture,… and lessons learned from past rejections" (Joseph 5).

Among diasporic communities particularly, the performance of citizenship relies heavily on learned and created cultural practices. Current perceptions of Black British cultural citizenship are deeply influenced by music and the culture of nightlife associated with it, but are not limited to these specific examples. Through solely focusing on the art forms that have emerged from

Black British communities, however, one may be able to speculate on the extent to which these art forms serve to create a protective barrier around these marginalized populations. As Joseph explains, “in many postcolonial states, alternative art movements have privileged a retro-nationalist move toward indigenization in the search for native roots in disrupted pre-colonial cultural forms” (142). Perhaps, following this line of thought, the emergence of

Black British music as its own form is way for Black British people to reclaim their African identity and connect to their native roots.

The creation of a music and culture unique to only Black British communities is a reflection of the suffering endured by the African diaspora for centuries. The erasure of personal identity imposed onto African slave communities has influenced “the need to recover and validate black culture and [reincarnate] the sense of being and belonging which had been erased from it by slavery" (Gilroy 297). Following years of being perceived as a bestial species and being treated and regarded as hardly human, a desire to be seen as human has led to the creation

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of a black identity reliant on both assimilation to a previously established culture and the exploration of a uniquely black experience. This applies in large to both Black British and ​ African American communities. Though vastly different, both are united through a commonly shared history and thus work harmoniously in the creation and expansion of black culture. This is seen in many instances, though the particular focus here is on the music that emerged as a product of this need to “recover and validate black culture.” In relation to black music, particularly, the link between African American and Black British people is undeniable among different genres of black music, most recently exhibited in the form of hip hop. This black art form originating in the United States has achieved global recognition and begun several movements in music across the world. Near the time of its creation, hip hop music was claimed and altered by black British artists interested in expressing themselves in a way that they saw as both exclusively black and exclusively British.

As Andy Wood argues in his essay “‘Original London Style’: London Posse and the Birth of British Hip Hop,” the British take on American hip hop has succeeded in creating a sound that is uniquely British while maintaining links to American hip hop style, connecting the African diaspora across continents in a powerful way. Reinforcing beliefs priorly addressed, he stresses the importance of hip hop as “a key resource for a new generation of black British youths who were seeking a sense of identity and representation” (Wood 176). As the artistic, highly malleable form of American hip hop made its way to Britain, enthusiasts began to see the art form as a potential outlet. During the 1980s, hip hop began to extend itself to many different forms, including but not limited to British hip hop. London Posse, credited for bringing British hip hop to New York, emerged in 1987 and several other artists followed shortly. Wood explains

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that “rather than operating as a ‘borrowed culture,’ British hip hop developed its own voice”

(184), but the first wave of British hip hop in the mainstream was short lived as it became overshadowed by other emerging forms of art and discredited by those who believed that hip hop was an exclusively African American form. However, the influence of reggae in London Posse’s music prevailed and became a uniquely British sound. This went on to influence other variations of Black British hip hop such as jungle, garage, and grime.

Of the British hip hop variations, grime, in particular, has withstood the test of time. In the American mainstream hip hop community, it still lacks recognition, but is beginning to be taken seriously as a form of hip hop. Perhaps it is worth asking what has made this particular genre so widely recognized and indicative of Black British music compared to other previous forms. The music form, which emerged following the untimely end of the era of garage music around 2002, is credited to rapper Wiley from the east of London. The gritty, harsh sound of the music and its aggressive and occasionally foolish lyrics were not taken seriously at the beginning. However, grime music, marked by rapid beats (130-140 bpm), became about a culture rather than simply a music form very quickly in its inception. For instance, to gain a spot at the table of grime artists, rappers had to come up with creative lyrics and battle other established artists for recognition. These rappers would videotape “Lord of the Mics,” which was a series of grime rap battles, and ask viewers and attendees to judge the rappers based on lyrical quality, rhythmic ability, and overall savagery. As people began to gravitate towards this unique scene and grime began to gain a larger following, those who attempted to pull it out from the underground met fervent opposition. Certain clubs in London banned DJs from playing the music and authorities did not take well to the art form or the culture surrounded by it (Duggins,

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Keens, and Fraser). Regardless, the grime prevailed and the sound has gained recognition as a uniquely London sound and the only known music belonging specifically and exclusively to black British artists.

Grime has managed to remain on an upward slope from its creation, but as an art form that thrives off of the underground scene, has not fully broken into the mainstream bubble of hip hop. While certain songs have been known to top charts in the UK and particular artists have been accused of “selling out” grime music to a pop audience on some occasions, it is unclear exactly how the music manages to remain highly relevant in British youth culture while still living underground. Todd Dedman asserts the use of the term “subculture” in explaining the significance of grime and how it stays relevant to British and black British culture while still upholding a certain feeling of exclusivity. He explains that the subculture of grime is the reaction to a larger, parent culture of mainstream hip hop and popular culture in Britain. Therefore, those that subscribe to the culture shape their own definitions of grime and hip hop culture in accordance with their individual agency. Specifically, those who he defines as “purists,” take an active role in the culture and go beyond a mere declaration of fandom. They attempt to shape their own cultural practices and often hold negative views towards the commodification and commercialization of grime music. On the other hand, “peripheral” subscribers to the music

“[base] their consumption on mass mediated, major label artists” (Dedman 517). This can thus explain why, despite the “subcultural need to perceive their music as simply theirs, and not the product of some distant industry” (Dedman 519), grime music continues to gain a following and become more widely accepted. As the number of “purist” subscribers becomes dismal and the

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music and culture becomes increasingly pursued by “peripheral” fans of the music, the idea of grime becoming more mainstream and commercialized continually sees a larger possibility.

In current society, grime music has managed to gain a substantial following among young

British people, white and black alike. As previously expressed, the art form is widely enjoyed and can often be heard at clubs, bars, and late night events around the city. The magnitude of this platform has led to a shift in the message of grime artists. Once praised for its witty lyricism, grime music has recently taken a more serious stance in its words. Though the music has not been described as traditionally political, several influential grime artists have begun to take very open political stances in their music and social media platforms, speaking as representatives for marginalized Black British communities. This change in rhetoric has given grime a new meaning in Black British culture. Though music has always been regarded as a powerful form of individual expression, the value of grime music in Black British history has increased on an exponential level since listeners of the music have realized its power in igniting social change.

Most notably, at the end of May 2017, grime artists such as JME, Stormzy, and Akala made efforts to express their support for Labour Party MP Jeremy Corbyn. Through social media, the spread of the hashtag #Grime4Corbyn sparked a recent change in the way consumers view grime music and its purpose.

As black people in Britain have continued to hold their ground and reclaim their own heritage and culture, it is no surprise that the music has closely reflected social efforts. The political and historical value of grime, however, extends far deeper than the evident support for

Jeremy Corbyn in recent elections. Lauren Carneiro, writer for the Cambridge University student newspaper Varsity, made a point to assert the deeply rooted political nature of grime in her

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article “It’s Not Just This Election – Grime Music Has Always Been Political.” Carneiro explains that grime music has always included large amounts of social commentary by the very nature of the art form. These artists sing about what they know, and through expressing the ordeals that Black British people must face on the daily, the lyrics are naturally shedding light on social inequality in Britain. In fact, grime has occasionally been regarded as an anarchist genre due to its incendiary lyrics that challenge authority and provoke protest. In his song “ill Manors,”

Plan B expresses the woes that exist in poverty-ridden migrant communities around London. He calls upon social change in his song with his words:

“We’ve had it with you politicians/You bloody rich kids never listen/There’s no such

thing as broken Britain/We’re just bloody broke in Britain/What needs fixing is the

system.”

The track, released in 2012, is merely one instance where a Black British grime artist has used music as a cry for help in marginalized communities. By expressing that it is the system, not the people, that are responsible for this evident social inequality, Plan B offers listeners a new perspective on the struggles faced by the Black British population. He implores listeners to abandon preconceived, often racist, notions about crime in these communities and accept the possibility that these people should not be held responsible for their actions, which are often simply survival tactics.

Akala’s 2006 song “Bullshit,” inspired by the political instability surrounding Syria and

Libya, makes no hesitation in identifying the problems at hand. In the hook, he asserts that

“Politicians talk never do shit/It’s bullshit,” and goes on to challenge the information taught by schools and spread by news stations. He openly expresses his fury and distrust in the political

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system, undoubtedly influencing his listeners to feel similarly or think about these issues in a deeper way. In Skepta’s 2016 hit “Shutdown,” he challenges authority when he raps, “We don’t listen to no politician/Everybody on the same mission/We don’t care about your -isms and schisms.” While many thought this was Skepta’s way of dismissing politics, in reality these lyrics signify a loss of hope in the governmental system. Skepta’s song “It Ain’t Safe” also comments on the police state and level of crime in marginalized migrant communities, repeating

“It ain’t safe on the block, not even for the cops,” throughout the entirety of the chorus.

It quickly becomes evident, in these examples, that these songs were not created simply for mindless consumption. In fact, it seems as though grime artists are acutely aware of their audience and the platforms they have created for themselves. Clearly, the relatable lyrics resonate with Black British people who have experienced similar marginalization and distrust in the government. However, these lyrics do not seem to be speaking to these particular people. As an art form, grime belongs exclusively to those that created it: hard-working, economically unsteady Black British people. These artists, however, are dedicating these lyrics to the people who this music does not belong to. Particularly, the music seems to be aimed towards lighting a social justice fire under the white audience that appears to be infatuated with the art form.

It is, in fact, the white consumption of and engagement in Black British culture that attaches immense historical significance to grime music as a black art form. In his article

“Voices of Hate, Sounds of Hybridity,” Les Back makes the strong assertion that “...in the everyday lives of white people, infatuation with black music can exist alongside overt racism without a necessary contradiction” (146). This statement is preceded by examples in British society where the consumption of black music was not directly associated with black people. In

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an extremely powerful example, Back references the skinhead style of the 1960s, which fed off of black music and culture but also fetishized ideals of racist street power. Skinhead culture perpetuated openly racist beliefs but continued to consume reggae music and other forms of black culture. It was not until fairly recently, historically speaking, that black people have received full recognition and praise for their works. Since the mass migration to Britain, black art was often consumed without regard to the artist. This aspect of black history holds immense importance when regarding the way in which black music is consumed in the present day.

With the previous knowledge, one may be able to draw a link between the political sentiments expressed in grime music and the desire for the black community to be rightfully recognized by their white counterparts. Since, in the history of black art and music, white consumers of the art have not hesitated to continually suppress the black people behind this art, it is no surprise that the black artists of today are so quick to use their platform as a means of exhibiting unapologetic blackness. There Ain’t No Black in the Union Jack explores the ​ ​ expressive culture of Black Britain and draws conclusions linking artistic expression to urban social change movements. This academic analysis of the role of expressive culture in black communities, particularly in Britain, serves to deepen the point that grime music is for more than simply entertainment value. Furthermore, it can be concluded that, in order to spark social change, black artists must appeal to the audience that will provoke that change. For Black Brits listening to this music, they are moved to make their voices heard. When White Brits hear these lyrics, they are invited to understand a community which has so long remained misunderstood. It is important to recognize that it was only after successfully gaining a platform among white ​ ​

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listeners that grime turned truly political. The music, which was once simply by blacks for blacks, wound up becoming much more than that to reflect their newfound audience members.

The creation of this music form has been largely responsible for the remembrance of

Black British history and in giving Black Brits their own voice. Though grime is not the only example of Black British music, it holds immense amounts of power as a contemporary art form.

Despite having roots in American hip hop, the sound belongs entirely to the Black British artists responsible for the creation and expansion of the art form. Grime music has worked as an almost adhesive force, bringing Afro-Caribbean and African Brits together under one collective identity of Black Britishness. The art form, which emerged directly from the streets of east London, began almost like an exclusive club. As it gained a following of (largely black) listeners, the communal aspect of the culture was never erased. Even still, while grime is on an upward climb into the mainstream, fans of the music exhibit feelings of a sort of exclusivity related to the music. The underground culture that is so unique to grime music has been enough to create a community within itself.

As the rhythms of grime reach more ears, however, the music has taken on a different responsibility. This music began as a way for Black British youth to feel a sense of community and belonging in a country where they had not priorly truly belonged. By creating their own sound and form of expression, Black Brits were able to cultivate a community unique only to them and the music of their culture. More recently, the aims of grime have shifted slightly to account for an increasingly white fanbase. The art form has taken on voices of protest and of anarchy, inspiring social change and igniting political flames. Beyond simply being a form of expression for blacks, grime has taken blackness and claimed ownership of it. Through

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expressing desperate sentiments felt by marginalized black communities seeking large social reform, the art form has been able to consistently remind listeners of its historical value.

Grime artists have evidently sought to constantly ingrain the black experience into its listeners, so that those who might not understand the community can begin to learn. This art form keeps black culture in Britain at the forefront of communication. Through remembering black

British history and serving as a platform for social and political reform, the creation of the art form acts as a survival tactic for the Black British culture. Grime music and its culture, as an exclusively and uniquely Black British form, has served to remind white Brits that black culture is just as British as white. A migrant population that has sought for so long to create a community and a sense of cultural citizenship within Britain has managed to establish a strong identity, and while music and the culture associated with it does not account for the entirety of

Black British culture, there is no denying that grime, as a form of expressive culture, has bridged a gap between a marginalized community and the people who would rather turn a blind eye to the injustice than face it. For this, it has proven to be a truly monumental movement of its time.

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Works Cited

Akala. “Bullshit.” It’s Not a Rumour, Illa State Records Ltd, 2006, Spotify, ​ ​ ​ ​ https://open.spotify.com/track/6P4jUb92bFxaPhpQo0FCsT.

Back, Les. “Voices of Hate, Sounds of Hybridity: Black Music and the Complexities of Racism.”

Black Music Research Journal, vol. 20, no. 2, 2000, p. 127., doi:10.2307/779464. ​ Carneiro, Lauren. “It's Not Just This Election – Grime Music Has Always Been

Political.”Varsity ​ Online, Varsity Publications Ltd, 7 June 2017, www.varsity.co.uk/comment/13169. ​ Dedman, Todd. “Agency in UK Hip-Hop and Grime Youth Subcultures â Peripherals and ​​ Purists.” Journal of Youth Studies, vol. 14, no. 5, 2011, pp. 507–522., ​ ​ doi:10.1080/13676261.2010.549820.

Duggins, Alexi, et al. “A Brief History of Grime.” Time Out London, 9 May 2016. ​ ​ Gilroy, Paul. There Ain't No Black in the Union Jack. Taylor and Francis, 2013. ​ ​ Hancox, Dan. “Party Politics: Why Grime Defines the Sound of Protest in 2016.” The Guardian, ​ ​ Guardian News and Media, 18 Feb. 2016.

Joseph, May. Nomadic Identities: the Performance of Citizenship. University of Minnesota ​ ​ Press, 1999.

Plan B. “ill Manors.” Ill Manors, 679 Recordings Ltd, 2012, Spotify, ​ ​ ​ https://open.spotify.com/track/2KWQfdVI2XTLYhW3zMiCHB.

Skepta. “Shutdown.” Konnichiwa, Boy Better Know, 2016, Spotify, ​ ​ ​ ​ https://open.spotify.com/track/1CireMJYXN8Rw4u1HG5GFZ.

Skepta, Young L.O.R.D.. “It Ain’t Safe.” Konnichiwa, Boy Better Know, 2016, Spotify, ​ ​ ​ ​

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https://open.spotify.com/track/0lmtKyI9HyhgnpyI0jWgEU.

Vonberg, Judith. “#Grime4Corbyn: UK Grime Scene Gets Political.” CNN, Cable News ​ ​ Network, 18 May 2017.

Wood, Andy. “Original London Style: London Posse and the Birth of British Hip Hop.”Atlantic ​ Studies, vol. 6, no. 2, 2009, pp. 175–190., doi:10.1080/14788810902981050. ​