Sway - This Is My Demo review
Now that August has bid its adieu and September has parked its camper outside and decided to chill for a few weeks, it’s only a matter of time before fall turns up nature’s natural air conditioning and winter breaks out the skates and hockey sticks for some pick-up shinny. This means music journalists are revisiting what has rocked their world this past year in preparation for their inevitable “best of 2006” lists that will appear in publications and blogs everywhere.
But pump the brakes and drive slow, homies, for just one second.
2006 isn’t over for a few months, but This Is My Demo has already been labelled as “sadly underrated” by Pitchfork scribe Ryan Dombal. He’s entirely right, too. But maybe that’s the fate for any British rapper not named Dizzee Rascal or The Streets, who really doesn’t rap anyways. Which is a shame because Sway (of no relation to the Sway from Sway and King Tech) is a more rounded emcee than his brethren in almost every facet. While Boy in Da Corner is an important landmark in Britain’s short resume of hip-hop releases, it was still too British and too singular for a lot of people who didn’t know the difference between a certain pastry and what Brits eat for breakfast. This Is My Demo is still very British, but fortunately lacks most of what made Dizzee’s offerings alienating to those more familiar with the underworld politics of Brooklyn than London.
This Is My Demo deserves to be mentioned among any of the celebrated debuts of the last half-decade. Like Kanye pre-validation of skill and The Game pre-G-Unot nonsense, Sway is hungry to prove his ability as an emcee not only to the denizens of his native England but to anyone willing to give him a few minutes and a listening ear. An amiable bloke, Sway’s authoritative delivery is more Ludacris and less Slim Thug, and his flow more Jay-Z than Mike Skinner, who really doesn’t flow anyways. Equally adept at both fast-rapping and flowing at a conversational pace, Sway effortlessly shifts gears back-and-forth like Franz Ferdinand tempo changes. The rapper of Ghanaian origins began as an “English boy with an African accent” and evolved into an “African boy with a British accent” and a shining case study of multiculturalism. His accent is nowhere as harsh nor as cockneyed as other emcees from the right side of the pond—it never gets in the way of what is being said, but instead adds character to Sway’s realist stoicism (“I’ve come up a bit, had a good heart that toughened up a bit / But I looked into the mirror to kiss the good-guy goodbye / Then I exchanged my pucker-up lips for a stiff upper lip”).
Sway tackles capitalist brainwashing on “Flo Fashion”, domestic violence on the disturbing “Pretty Ugly Husband”, and ridicules studio gangsters on “Hype Boys”. Utilizing his wry humour and irony, Sway satirizes everything from regionalism (and dually nationalism) to his own countrymen on “Sick World”. Elsewhere, “Download” mocks the music industry’s apprehension towards downloading; Sway chases a fellow named “Kazaa” and implores you not to download his music while admitting he’ll download yours.
It is these open contradictions coupled with Sway’s dry British-ness that elevate the numerous stand-outs from good songs by a British rapper to great songs by a great rapper. Personal touches like referring to himself as his government name on “Little Derek” and the genuinely funny skits tacked on to the end of several tracks featuring Sway’s alter-ego Charlie Boy develop Sway’s personality. And that’s no aggrandizement, because Sway is a real personality. You laugh with Sway; you care what he says; you get your drink on with him; ruminate with him: generally, you get to know the dude. Derek Andrew Safo doesn’t need defence mechanisms, or even an audience, give him a mic and they will come; he’s just a likeable sort of chap.
I haven’t even touched on the production side of things, which, handled entirely by Sway, is another successful side of This Is My Demo. From the title track’s introducing spiel that recalls the child-of-a-samurai opening of Liquid Swords, where sinister synths and a lone female voice drop long before the rest of the track and echo Sway’s sentiments of his “life from this London dungeon”; the beat communicates the drive of the those who want to make something of their time on this rock. “Products” is drenched in late 90’s R&B leisure, and the unnamed singer wraps his voice around the faux-Jamaican keyboards with his cautionary hook.
The point where This Is My Demo deviates from records like Kano’s Home Sweet Home, for example, is that the production manages to hold a cohesive thread throughout the album’s fourteen songs while not sounding same-y or incongruous (as Kano’s felt in spots). The requisite grime elements are here, but poured into more accessible molds: “Flo Fashion” would work as a single and “Slo Down” is a slowed-down club burner, complete with a screwed chorus, no drums, and only intermittent bass. Other songs like “Sick World” borrow from world influences and “Month in the Summer” walks a healthy tight-rope between Kanye soul and Quincy Jones strings.
Sway sounds similarly comfortable writing songs for the ladies such as “Back For You” as he does traditional I’m-better-than-you raps like the Formula One worthy “Up Your Speed”, where Sway and Pyrelli (who sounds like a British Method Man) hug the corners of the track and let loose on the straight-aways. And if Sway hopes to find a wider audience, this ability will play a large part in his success. With no discernable weak spots—you might press the skip button when “Pretty Ugly Husband” comes on once in a while, but not because it’s a bad song—This Is My Demo displays technical skill for days and superstar qualities from its headliner. There’s of genius bit of wordplay that accurately sums up both Sway and This Is My Demo: “From capital to capital, I’m trying to get that capital / Until my name’s up in bright lights and capitals.”
With a little help from pundits and hip-hop junkies like myself, we can ensure Sway’s dreams aren’t pipe dreams.
Promoting good records that have fallen below the radar should be the job of music critics. It should be intrinsic to the very definition of a journalist. DJ Premier once ranted about DJ’s being zombies and not breaking records and journalists are starting to do the same with their reviews. No one will like every album critics recommend, but you might encourage one person who might not otherwise listen to Sway (or Trae or Louis Logic or T.I.) to download their record, enjoy what they hear, go buy it, and tell all their friends about it. And that’s all you can ask for.
Forget snitching; stop sleeping and start breaking albums.
But pump the brakes and drive slow, homies, for just one second.
2006 isn’t over for a few months, but This Is My Demo has already been labelled as “sadly underrated” by Pitchfork scribe Ryan Dombal. He’s entirely right, too. But maybe that’s the fate for any British rapper not named Dizzee Rascal or The Streets, who really doesn’t rap anyways. Which is a shame because Sway (of no relation to the Sway from Sway and King Tech) is a more rounded emcee than his brethren in almost every facet. While Boy in Da Corner is an important landmark in Britain’s short resume of hip-hop releases, it was still too British and too singular for a lot of people who didn’t know the difference between a certain pastry and what Brits eat for breakfast. This Is My Demo is still very British, but fortunately lacks most of what made Dizzee’s offerings alienating to those more familiar with the underworld politics of Brooklyn than London.
This Is My Demo deserves to be mentioned among any of the celebrated debuts of the last half-decade. Like Kanye pre-validation of skill and The Game pre-G-Unot nonsense, Sway is hungry to prove his ability as an emcee not only to the denizens of his native England but to anyone willing to give him a few minutes and a listening ear. An amiable bloke, Sway’s authoritative delivery is more Ludacris and less Slim Thug, and his flow more Jay-Z than Mike Skinner, who really doesn’t flow anyways. Equally adept at both fast-rapping and flowing at a conversational pace, Sway effortlessly shifts gears back-and-forth like Franz Ferdinand tempo changes. The rapper of Ghanaian origins began as an “English boy with an African accent” and evolved into an “African boy with a British accent” and a shining case study of multiculturalism. His accent is nowhere as harsh nor as cockneyed as other emcees from the right side of the pond—it never gets in the way of what is being said, but instead adds character to Sway’s realist stoicism (“I’ve come up a bit, had a good heart that toughened up a bit / But I looked into the mirror to kiss the good-guy goodbye / Then I exchanged my pucker-up lips for a stiff upper lip”).
Sway tackles capitalist brainwashing on “Flo Fashion”, domestic violence on the disturbing “Pretty Ugly Husband”, and ridicules studio gangsters on “Hype Boys”. Utilizing his wry humour and irony, Sway satirizes everything from regionalism (and dually nationalism) to his own countrymen on “Sick World”. Elsewhere, “Download” mocks the music industry’s apprehension towards downloading; Sway chases a fellow named “Kazaa” and implores you not to download his music while admitting he’ll download yours.
It is these open contradictions coupled with Sway’s dry British-ness that elevate the numerous stand-outs from good songs by a British rapper to great songs by a great rapper. Personal touches like referring to himself as his government name on “Little Derek” and the genuinely funny skits tacked on to the end of several tracks featuring Sway’s alter-ego Charlie Boy develop Sway’s personality. And that’s no aggrandizement, because Sway is a real personality. You laugh with Sway; you care what he says; you get your drink on with him; ruminate with him: generally, you get to know the dude. Derek Andrew Safo doesn’t need defence mechanisms, or even an audience, give him a mic and they will come; he’s just a likeable sort of chap.
I haven’t even touched on the production side of things, which, handled entirely by Sway, is another successful side of This Is My Demo. From the title track’s introducing spiel that recalls the child-of-a-samurai opening of Liquid Swords, where sinister synths and a lone female voice drop long before the rest of the track and echo Sway’s sentiments of his “life from this London dungeon”; the beat communicates the drive of the those who want to make something of their time on this rock. “Products” is drenched in late 90’s R&B leisure, and the unnamed singer wraps his voice around the faux-Jamaican keyboards with his cautionary hook.
The point where This Is My Demo deviates from records like Kano’s Home Sweet Home, for example, is that the production manages to hold a cohesive thread throughout the album’s fourteen songs while not sounding same-y or incongruous (as Kano’s felt in spots). The requisite grime elements are here, but poured into more accessible molds: “Flo Fashion” would work as a single and “Slo Down” is a slowed-down club burner, complete with a screwed chorus, no drums, and only intermittent bass. Other songs like “Sick World” borrow from world influences and “Month in the Summer” walks a healthy tight-rope between Kanye soul and Quincy Jones strings.
Sway sounds similarly comfortable writing songs for the ladies such as “Back For You” as he does traditional I’m-better-than-you raps like the Formula One worthy “Up Your Speed”, where Sway and Pyrelli (who sounds like a British Method Man) hug the corners of the track and let loose on the straight-aways. And if Sway hopes to find a wider audience, this ability will play a large part in his success. With no discernable weak spots—you might press the skip button when “Pretty Ugly Husband” comes on once in a while, but not because it’s a bad song—This Is My Demo displays technical skill for days and superstar qualities from its headliner. There’s of genius bit of wordplay that accurately sums up both Sway and This Is My Demo: “From capital to capital, I’m trying to get that capital / Until my name’s up in bright lights and capitals.”
With a little help from pundits and hip-hop junkies like myself, we can ensure Sway’s dreams aren’t pipe dreams.
Promoting good records that have fallen below the radar should be the job of music critics. It should be intrinsic to the very definition of a journalist. DJ Premier once ranted about DJ’s being zombies and not breaking records and journalists are starting to do the same with their reviews. No one will like every album critics recommend, but you might encourage one person who might not otherwise listen to Sway (or Trae or Louis Logic or T.I.) to download their record, enjoy what they hear, go buy it, and tell all their friends about it. And that’s all you can ask for.
Forget snitching; stop sleeping and start breaking albums.
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1 comments:
I enjoyed this album like my favorite meal. Thoroughly.
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