I arrive at the Corner Hotel on Swan Street in Richmond just in time to catch the end of support band True Live’s jazz-tinged hip hop set. The local boys do their best to warm things up for the sell out crowd but tonight, it’s all about the foreign imports – Dizzee Rascal was back in town and the boy in da corner was due to be full centre anytime now.
As we waited for the changeover on stage, I was given time to take in my surroundings. Different strokes for different folks, but it wasn’t the best choice of venue for this type of gig. The red velvet curtain, the sticky carpet, the disco lighting rig, it feels like a cold war community centre – the kind of place Borat goes to meet #4 prostitute in whole of Kazakhstan. I make my way to the front of the crowd and find myself a nice little spot, right next to the stage – things are looking up, I can practically smell the brand new Nikes form here! Unfortunately it looks like I’ve made my way into the ‘teenage fan club’ section. A gaggle of young girls swiftly elbow their way past, ensuring they and their cleavages are as close to the action as possible. I’m pushed back into the throngs of the crowd and lose my vantage point, but they clearly want it more than I do, and they’re more likely to get it too!
As time ticks by the anticipation builds like colony of tooled up termites, and the gaggle of girlies are collectively wetting themselves with excitement. Suddenly, the godawful interim music stops and the main speakers burst into action. Now, the last time Dizzee Rascal played in Melbourne was back at the start of the year for a Big Day Out side show at the Prince. Reviews of that gig highlighted a surprising indie music medley where the White Stripes, The Verve and other similar tracks were mashed together in a bizarre offering dropped into the middle of his set. Perhaps he was suffering from jet lag that day, but anyone attempting to do merge grime with indie, tragically known as grindie – the shittest subgenre of music ever invented ever – needs to check themselves in somewhere fast. Thankfully the indie is gone but in its place is another medley. DJ Semtex, Dizzee’s one-armed tour DJ that mixes with his nose, has put together a mega mash-up of hip-hop hits old and new. But it just doesn’t seem right. Timbaland’s The Way I Am is a disappointingly obvious opener; it certainly doesn’t warrant the rewind it gets. House of Pain Jump Around, now you never get sick of hearing that, but again… Is this really what we came to hear? Kanye West Stronger, then a bit of Lupe Fiasco?
It’s a strange way to open the gig, but when Dizzee Rascal comes bounding on stage, it doesn’t matter. From this point on he’s in control, and normal proceedings resume. He leaps around from end to end, running up and down, bopping on the spot, reaching into the front row, grabbing hands and practically standing on top of us as he spits out his rapid fire lines in his trademark chirpy tones. He’s joined on stage by his partner in grime MC Scope who joins in with all this furious activity and does a good job of supporting the main man on the night. The crowd respond accordingly, a sea of hands pumping up and down in unison to the beats as Jus a Rascal kicks things off, letting us know exactly who we’re here to see, as if we needed any reminding.
Lyrically, Dizzee still pisses all over the competition. His flow may not be the best, but his delivery is first class and the sheer energy makes his live sets stand out from the rest. His presentation is spot on with a swagger and bravado that’s more cheeky than aggressive, which ensures the vibes are all kept right on the night. Sirens and Pussyole are particular highlights in a set that picks the choicest cuts from his past repertoire. It’s all over too quickly and before you know it, we’re cheering for an encore. Everyone knows what’s coming for the finale, and when the boys re-immerge to the catchy beats of his Calvin Harris collaboration Dance Wiv Me the crowd do as they’re told as Melbourne goes mental for East London’s finest.
