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 GRIP GRAND – Brokelore
(Look/Creative Vibes)
They say you should write of what you know and Grip Grand has taken that advice to heart. The Oakland MC’s first record, Broakland, was about what it was like being barrel-scraping broke. He didn’t sell a lot of copies, so he’s stuck to that theme on his follow-up, but his well-observed wit and grin-inducing wordplay prevent the repetition from becoming boring. He raps about having to catch the bus and not being able to afford milk – “My lyrics are the only gold that I got in my mouth” as he says in Poppin Pockets. That’s a song about the new fashion trend he’s starting for people too poor to have collars to pop, humour that stops the kitchen-sink mundanity from being oppressive. The best example is Handle That, which takes the conventions of radio-friendly trap music, with a catchy dirty South beat, a nonsensical chantalong chorus and a bunch of yeah yeahs in the background, and twists them to his own ends. It’s boast rap with brilliant lines like “While you pretend to be sick like Ferris Bueller / Grip Grand drop gems like a careless jeweller” but it also returns to his theme, showing that while he may not be able to afford gold grills and necklaces, he can do the music that goes with them flawlessly.
****
 ILLZILLA – Wasteland
(Hope Street/Shock)
In a better world The Herd would have had the same influence on Australian hip hop as Hilltop Hoods have. Illzilla sound like they come from that world, though actually they’re from Melbourne. Like The Herd they’ve got funky live backing and their lyrics edge into the political, condemning unjust war and environmental destruction while admonishing us to “never let those who running things be running you”. The powerful burner As We Slept is even told from the perspective of an Iraqi citizen. Where their own identity shines through strongest is on songs like 20 Minutes, where MC Mantra fantasises about being a fire-breathing prehistoric reptile of rap, a literal Illzilla. A fine debut.
***½
 JAMES PANTS – Welcome
(Stones Throw/Creative Vibes)
James Pants started out as an intern at Stones Throw who somehow managed to convince them to produce his debut album. Having listened to it, I’m not sure how he managed it. With access to a pile of 20-year-old synthesizers and 30-year-old electro-funk albums he’s created a bizarre piece of outsider art, the songs often little more than sketches hastily constructed out of drum machine and synth, with some repeated warbling or shouting added in by Pants himself. “Hey, you! What you doing? You’re my girl!” goes My Girl, over and over again. Ka$h sounds like an autistic trying to recreate Gnarls Barkley. Mostly it just sounds like the headache-inducing rubbish that it is.
*
JODY MACGREGOR
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