frankD
15th March '08, 09:51 PM
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?
I've just been told some fucking blogger named Prancehall is making a grime mixtape with VICE magazine. Bloggers? We did not hire you to hang out with bloggers. That's dubstep's job. When I left London you were right on track to become the greatest scene of all time in the making - "the bastard sons of Blair's Britian" transmitting your anger live from every council estate rooftop. Fast-forward two years and you're just a bunch of twelve year old pussies screaming about shanking each other and how much money you've got on MySpace? Seriously, where did it all go wrong?
I guess I should have known you couldn't handle the pressure. The same thing happened to the last guy I hired - UK Garage. He was great to begin with, always smartly dressed in that Moschino suit he wore with lips and peace signs all over it, all the girls in the office liked him, but then the job got to him. I gave him too much money, which of course led to him doing way too much coke and he started bringing me shit like Shanks & Bigfoot, so I had to fire him. Same thing with the guy before - Jungle. He lost his focus and disappeared up his own ass. Then there was that Hardcore dude in the white gloves, he was a weird little guy, but you? I thought you were different? Now I gotta fire you too?
Hey, stop crying. Listen, in the beginning you brought in some good guys. Boy In Da Corner is a classic. You know I love that Jammer guy, Wiley is great too and we can't forget about Lethal B and D-Double - he was different, but what's with all this other half-assed shit? Maybe you were doomed the moment the broadsheets started masturbating over Dizzee or when major labels started signing people like Plan B. I didn't say anything at the time, I should have, but I thought you had the situation under control. I'm sorry.
Listen Grime, what I'm trying to say is it seems to me that you've reached the end of the road. All this "I've got bare cash and gash" shit isn't fooling anyone. We don't need lessons about how to make money from a spotty cunt on Channel U in a Nike tracksuit with Ribena stains down the front. If any of you actually give a shit about making some dough, forget it, just go home. The top boys in grime don't even make 15k a year - and if they did they'd have bought a blazer and fucked off to the funky house scene ages ago. It's just not going to happen. Everyone in England is bored shitless of you. In the US you'll never even be as big as Lady Sov's chest. Put the mic down, draw for the plunger and become a plumber. Fuck it, plumbers make good money. Pretty soon you'll be living in Essex driving a turquoise Z4 you bought on credit, and trust me you'll be a lot happier.
Grime is Dead, Long Live Grime!!
MATT MASON
I've just been told some fucking blogger named Prancehall is making a grime mixtape with VICE magazine. Bloggers? We did not hire you to hang out with bloggers. That's dubstep's job. When I left London you were right on track to become the greatest scene of all time in the making - "the bastard sons of Blair's Britian" transmitting your anger live from every council estate rooftop. Fast-forward two years and you're just a bunch of twelve year old pussies screaming about shanking each other and how much money you've got on MySpace? Seriously, where did it all go wrong?
I guess I should have known you couldn't handle the pressure. The same thing happened to the last guy I hired - UK Garage. He was great to begin with, always smartly dressed in that Moschino suit he wore with lips and peace signs all over it, all the girls in the office liked him, but then the job got to him. I gave him too much money, which of course led to him doing way too much coke and he started bringing me shit like Shanks & Bigfoot, so I had to fire him. Same thing with the guy before - Jungle. He lost his focus and disappeared up his own ass. Then there was that Hardcore dude in the white gloves, he was a weird little guy, but you? I thought you were different? Now I gotta fire you too?
Hey, stop crying. Listen, in the beginning you brought in some good guys. Boy In Da Corner is a classic. You know I love that Jammer guy, Wiley is great too and we can't forget about Lethal B and D-Double - he was different, but what's with all this other half-assed shit? Maybe you were doomed the moment the broadsheets started masturbating over Dizzee or when major labels started signing people like Plan B. I didn't say anything at the time, I should have, but I thought you had the situation under control. I'm sorry.
Listen Grime, what I'm trying to say is it seems to me that you've reached the end of the road. All this "I've got bare cash and gash" shit isn't fooling anyone. We don't need lessons about how to make money from a spotty cunt on Channel U in a Nike tracksuit with Ribena stains down the front. If any of you actually give a shit about making some dough, forget it, just go home. The top boys in grime don't even make 15k a year - and if they did they'd have bought a blazer and fucked off to the funky house scene ages ago. It's just not going to happen. Everyone in England is bored shitless of you. In the US you'll never even be as big as Lady Sov's chest. Put the mic down, draw for the plunger and become a plumber. Fuck it, plumbers make good money. Pretty soon you'll be living in Essex driving a turquoise Z4 you bought on credit, and trust me you'll be a lot happier.
Grime is Dead, Long Live Grime!!
MATT MASON