
Grime ~ Rephlex compilation
Breakbeat Overview (skip if you know the history already)
      
      Breakbeat has exhibited an incredible tenaciousness since it infected popular 
      music in 1974. The victim in that case was one Kool Herc in the West Bronx 
      and hiphop was the epidemic that followed. The second outbreak occurred 
      at the beginning of the ‘90s in the UK. Beat scientists traced the 
      virus’s inception back to 1959, to the ‘b’ side of the 
      only hit by a little known soul group called The Winstons. That track, an 
      instrumental, was called ‘Amen Brother’ and yielded up the Amen 
      break which came to exert such a fascination on a whole host of UK producers. 
      As hardcore sped up at the end of the 80s a truly exciting, new form of 
      music was birthed. 
      
      Jungle melded the visceral thrill of hyperspeed, fractally multiplying beats 
      to often literally monstrous, slow-motion dub bass and extended that crucial 
      tension with synth stabs, diva vocals or an MC, and a sheared off sample 
      or two. The hyper/half speed progress of bass and drums and the resulting 
      tensile strength are at the heart of the thrill of Jungle. Symptoms of the 
      infection included heightened pulse, euphoria, high levels of perspiration 
      and a distinct ringing in the ears. In its early years between ’92 
      and ’94 Jungle explored a plethora of possibilities from the upbeat, 
      saturated hues of Omni Trio and the temporal experimentation of 4 Hero to 
      the exacting science of Photek, the baroque amibition of Goldie and the 
      marshal dystopias of Doc Scott, Subnation et al. In the mid ‘90s Jungle 
      began to sample string sections, tone down the bass, smooth out the rough 
      edges and make references to jazz. Accordingly it acquired a new, more respectable 
      name: drum’n’bass. The seeds of this more sanitary and less 
      viscerally exciting hybrid had already been planted back in ’91 by 
      LTJ Bukem’s Demon’s Theme. The music went overground in the 
      mid ‘90s led by Goldie and later Roni Size’s Mercury Prize. 
      Partially in reaction to this recognition and in fear of the dissolution 
      of their beloved music hardcore junglists chose to reject mainstream popularity. 
      As part of their strategy they chose to focus on the dystopian aspects of 
      a cutdown version of the fractal breakbeat in a style known as 2-Step. Under 
      this banner breakbeat shattered into myriad subgenres (breakcore, darkcore, 
      hardstep, techstep and so on) which were difficult for any but the cognoscenti 
      to tell apart – which was probably all part of the plan. The music 
      was harsh, minimal and rigid like an MDMA hit that refuses to kick in and 
      instead locks the jaw in a rictal grimace. The discarded upbeat and crowd-pleasing 
      vibe of early Jungle found its home in UKGarage which mixed slower tempos 
      but with added kick and bounce.
      
       Grime (The Album Review, at last)
 Grime. The name’s been bandied around for a while and Rephlex are 
      first past the post with a compilation. The genre’s name is teasingly 
      ambiguous: will Grime follow in the grim footsteps of 2-Step or mix the 
      textural stimulation of smudged glitch with the excitement of early breakbeat? 
      
      
      The answer is that both guesses are mostly wrong. This compilation is first 
      out of the paddock and on a relatively big label (Rephlex) and as a result 
      the one getting the media attention. Whether’s it’s truly representative 
      of the nascent scene remains to be seen. Grime presents four tracks each 
      by three artists, MarkOne, Plasticman and Slaughter Mob. The music here 
      has some common factors: it’s mid-tempo, loping stuff, 
      about the pace of a large tank making its determined way over rough ground: 
      it’s implacable, but not hyperkinetic like Jungle. Rhythms 
      feel mechanised, methodical and only occasionally hint at the bounce of 
      UKGarage. One or two tracks here verge on the ponderous, such is their deliberate 
      feel. The low end is all present and correct and is the location of much 
      of the action; it’s upfront in the mix and vies with the percussion 
      for attention. A lot of the time it wins out. This bass 
      is synthetic, man-made and stuffed full of polyunsaturates, oxidants and 
      E numbers. Turn it up loud and it fills the ears and feels like a big, inflatable 
      boat – something that would keep you afloat in rough seas. The overall 
      feel of this music is at times reminiscent of Detroit techno 
      but more plasticised, liquid and verging on queasy. It has the pinpoint 
      accuracy of a gunsight on a high-calibre rifle and consequently recalls 
      Photek circa Form and Function. It seems to be more open-minded in sonic 
      terms than Two Step and its ilk, for example Plasticman’s Camel Ride 
      is defined by a backwards flute-like sound and ethnic percussion, Industrial 
      Graft features the sound of machinery as an integral part of its rhythm, 
      MarkOne’s Raindance utilises African vocals and Slaughter Mob’s 
      Creeky Door takes its title from just such a sample.
      
      This music isn’t entirely unfamiliar: it’s like something recognisable 
      seen through a distorting lense. As a result it’s not jawdropping 
      like hearing Jungle for the first time on pirate radio in the early 90s 
      and that music still sounds fresh, thrilling, threatening today. The brushed 
      steel and angular typography of this compilation is a much more accurate 
      reflection of the sound of this music than the name it’s been given.
      
      It’s almost a truism that everything happens much more quickly in 
      our networked, media age: two weeks before the release of Grime, The Observer’s 
      Music Monthly supplement publishes a feature article on the budding scene 
      which manages to conflate – or maybe confuse – grime with hardcore 
      rap, UK Garage and Jungle. It also paints a much grimmer, narrower portrait 
      of the music than the one conveyed by the relative eclecticism of the three 
      artists featured on this compilation. Violence and crime always make a better 
      story though. The music on Grime is reminiscent of transitional tracks like 
      Lenny De Ice’s We Are E: like a baby bird – you can see roughly 
      what it’s going to look like, but it can’t fly very well yet 
      and you might be surprised when you see it fully grown. It would have been 
      good to hear more artists to be more confident of getting a truer picture 
      of Grime, but even so this is recommended as an interesting set of music, 
      whether it’s a faithful snapshot or not.