Arriving midway through Marvin the Martian and Jack Nimble's set one could imagine by the crowd's reaction that we'd missed the support and stumbled in on the headliners. For a two-strong act (discounting the DJ, because I'm mean like that) they have no trouble commanding the sizeable Carling Academy stage: Marv with towel, as his way, like a plucky underdog in a boxing ring, and Jack towering over all and sundry like the norse god of hip hop. It's more than their effortlessly convincing niceness that makes this particular half of Why Lout? a crowd-pleaser - Marv's got tunes too, you know. The Hoods & Badges EP was proof enough of that: it was proof enough to me that everything I thought I didn't like about rap was a cunning disguise for everything I don't like about American rap. Or perhaps just American music, or America. Anyway, Marv was a significant part of this belated epiphany and he's twice as nice live in concert, cheers, even livening up Scottish Twat, Calvin Harris' one trick pony stool, 'That one about the 80s'.
Ghetto (pronounced "Ghettoe" By 'Big' Tim 'Timmy' Westwood in his intro) is a stranger to me, and while his rhymes speed by at the pace of a train, this impressive feat is to his aesthetic what a lack of punctuation is to stream of consciousness prose: pretty daring, and pretty self-destructive. I'm in no doubt of his physical skills, but unable to pick out any poetry in the tirade of syllables, and unable to take my eyes of his un-miced-up sidekick, who shadows him nervously around the stage for the entire set, doing very, very little but raise eyebows. (Other people's.)
As something of an elder statesman of UK hip hop I was expecting more from Skinnyman; every hook involved the line "Smoking ban, smoking ban" with the occasional "fuck" thrown in for good measure, and it all sounded very last month. It might have been okay if it was last year, or last decade, but when Skinnyman gurns at us ghoulishly and declares that he's really looking forward to going backstage and smoking a big fat spliff I can't help but think we ought to encourage him. Don't hang around here on our behalf - we're only your audience, after all. Another spanner in what passes for works in his particular council estate is the blurry line he draws between hip hop and grime. He's been commended for being one of the few established acts to have embraced the emergence of grime, and by the loooks of him he's been rolling in the stuff. Sorry. But when he dramatically announces that he's about to "go grime" halfway through his set, I'm wondering am I the only one who can't hear a hell of a lot of difference. Okay, he's whingeing about the smoking ban a little faster, but at the risk of sounding like someone who confuses rapping with talking fast, he's no Dizzee Rascal.
Super mega special guests N-Dubz are the ones I ought to have heard of, because they've been in the charts and stuff. They definitely sound like they've been in the charts - they've got that scarred-by-shards-of-shattered-plastic look about them, and are a pleasing spectrum of hues. But Dappy's hat is a joke at everyone's expense, and Tulisa's one-piece woolen dress is unflattering, if not just trashy. Jeez, these guys need a makeover! I'm such a bitch. Personally, I find them very uninspiring, but there's no denying their pop credentials, and in this mix they don't outstay their welcome: this guy raps, that guy raps, this gal sings, and so it goes. Throwing in one of Narstie's rhymes is a baffling move, too: is it a contrast thing or a credentials thing? All it does for me is make me wish he was on the stage and they were in the audience.
When Lethal Bizzle finally hits the stage I'm ready to be underwhelmed. Not having heard the new album in its entirity I've been unconvinced by his various appearences as the not-too-urgent voice over classic punk riffs. I've been unsure about the suitability of his rather warm and easy-on-the-ears vocals for this kind of style. I'm expecting a clean-cut translation to stage and a satisfying but unremarkable performance. This is the same me that predicted a 6-0 victory over Croatia at Wembley, mind you, and Bizzle's performance is one of herculean, nay, nuclear proportions. I'm flabbergasted by the live interpretation of 'Babylon's Burning the Ghetto': it's a jaw-dropping, powerhouse of a tune, bearing only a slight resemblance to the radio-friendly single we all know and love. I've not felt so simultaneously wrong-footed and ready to bounce since the "What the fuck have Idlewild done to 'Idea Track' moment" in Bristol, 2003. 'Police on My Back' has everyone bouncing and 'Bizzle Bizzle' has me convinced, finally, that the LB brand is one worth more than the many, many T-shirts it's printed on.
I leave with a Buddhist-like glow and feel everything is as it should be: music is ten times better live. Except Ash - they're shit. So yeah, UK hip hop's doin' fine, cheers, but next time someone tells me to "make some noise" I'll lamp 'em.