Author: Thomas Schryver
The Streets (a.k.a. Mike Skinner) is undeniably an oddity of hip-hop music. Although Skinner’s medium is ultimately rap, his lyrical approach is closer to a journal entry or a book on tape than a 16-bar flow. His beats are low in complexity, even with the added live instrumentation, and most of the music sounds as if it could have been completed by that friend of yours who likes to mess around with fruity loops. Skinner has little desire for using words that rhyme, and possesses nearly no flow, but what he lacks in lingual dexterity, he makes up for in his rampant word play, imagery and storytelling ability.
And now, with his fourth album, Everything Is Borrowed, the U.K.’s wily wordsmith has returned for another go. Fans anticipating more geezer anthems of snagging birds, prangin’ out, or getting pissed with the mates can expect to be disappointed. Those hoping for a return to the epic themes featured in The Streets’ debut, Original Pirate Material, as well as the warmth of A Grand Don’t Come For Free, however, will be greatly rewarded.
Everything . . . could not be a more surprising follow up to Skinner’s previous album, The Hardest Way To Make An Easy Living, which was an artist’s memoir of a self-indulgent and hedonistic romp through shopping sprees, hotel room destruction and shag sessions with groupies. It was a cautionary tale that begins with a cocaine-induced freak-out and ends with a verbal assault in which Skinner ultimately realizes he’s in the wrong.
Many Streets fans feared that The Hardest Way . . . marked the dissolution of Skinner’s artistic integrity, and that he was on the brink of selling his soul to an episode of E! True Hollywood Story. This time around, however, Skinner made it a point to not include a single reference to modern life. That means no mention of watching Eastenders or The Bill on the telly, no recounts of the troubles of running a record label, and most remarkably of all, not a single expletive-laden tirade about the undependable nature of cell phones.
Instead, the songs on Everything . . . play out more like parables than hip-hop songs-timeless stories that can be universally appreciated.
“Heaven For The Weather” sounds like a feel-good ’70s variety show theme, with lyrics that express Skinner’s attraction to the darker side. “I Love You More (Than You Like Me)” is a lovelorn ballad coupled with Skinner’s joyless realization that his drawing talents are shit.
“Alleged Legends” disproves any notions that a religious experience may have been the cause for Skinner’s shift in lyricism. The song underscores the hypocrisy of those who preach love and tolerance, but act in aggression.
“On The Edge Of A Cliff” is one of Skinner’s most powerful displays of empathy. In it, he raps about suicide and the preciousness of life, a stark contrast to the neurotic emcee who wrote endlessly about his suicidal habits.
“The Strongest Person I Know” is Skinner’s adulation of a loved one. It is a song that expertly tugs on the heartstrings, and The Streets’ first song without an underlying beat.In what is perhaps his most beautiful piece to date, “The Escapist,” Skinner seems to chronicle an extended out of body experience in which his perspective of the world is forever changed. The chorus, “I’ll not feel no fear, ‘cos I’m not really here, I’m nowhere near here,” depicts an older and wiser Skinner, now light years beyond the prang and paranoia that threatened his life and his art just several years ago.
Everything Is Borrowed is a reminder to Streets fans that Skinner hasn’t nearly tapped out his potential and that he hasn’t yet gone off the deep end – at least not in a bad way.
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