Album Review: Alwayz Recording presents Concrete Jungle

What is ‘grime?’

And no I am not talking about another name for the shit you have to clean out from under a hard to reach place in your bathroom.

Grime, as a genre, could be easily described as “British rap music.” It may be more than that , however, combining myriad styles and influences into a sound that never could quite break through stateside and was always looked at as a bit of a novelty when compared to homegrown rap music.

Grime, as a genre, got a BIG endorsement this year, however, when Kanye West performed “All Day,” at a British music award ceremony on stage with, like, a fuck ton of Grime artists behind him, some of whom were wielding flamethrowers. Grime artist Skepta also got a big co-sign recently from Drake, when he was included on the bill of the annual OVO festival.

But is that enough to make Grime something American audiences take seriously?

To some extent, Concrete Jungle hopes to make that happen. It’s a 15 track mixtape, a bit of a who’s who on the scene, compiled by the London based Alwayz Recording Music. And for a complete novice, like myself, it’s a damn near perfect place to start as an introduction to the genre itself, as well as some of the major players involved right now.

“I used to smile in pictures, but the ends changed me,” raps Skepta on the collection’s opening track—“Can’t See Me Again,” which is also one of the album’s strongest—making the most of the marquee name. And honestly, with how many names are actually on Concrete Jungle, the thing is a little overwhelming, kind of like those Air Texture compilations—you just don’t know where to begin.

It is easy, however, to pick out the one track that didn’t really do it for me, which was the aggressive, volatile, and unsettling “Better Just Know.”

But one out of 15 that didn’t really work—that’s a pretty good average. And that is not to say every song is just incredible or something. This is just to say that there was only one that made me wince.

One thing that is interesting about Concrete Jungle is that the further you get into it, the more you can hear the influence of contemporary American popular rap music—specifically in the songs that include a sung refrain, or big, bombastic arrangements—like the go for broke “This Feeling,” arriving after an equally as epic in scope “We Pray.” Structurally, you could hear something similar coming from artists on this side of the Atlantic.

Thematically, drugs are still the universal language that unites hip-hop from the states and from elsewhere. On Concrete Jungle, I lost count of how many times someone talked about “the trap,” or “trapping”—proving that even in the UK, the rap game and the crack came are closely tied together. While on the homefront, the “trap” has become a mainstream subject thanks in part to hits like “Flicka Da Wrist” and the infectious “Trap Queen,” throughout the 15 songs on Concrete Jungle, there is still an ominous shadow cast over the music—nothing is jubilant, and everything is gritty, and grimey, as it were.

Even if you aren’t looking to dive head first into exploring Grime as a genre, this is still a convenient compilation for someone with a passing interest in hearing something that is more than likely off their musical radar. 

But for someone who is interested in exploring the world of Grime, Concrete Jungle serves as the perfect sample, and doubles as a list of over 50 names for you to Google to see what else these artists may have to offer.

Concrete Jungle is out now digitally via Alwayz Recording.