At Velocity Press, we like to think we’ve carved our lane in documenting electronic music, but in recent months our musical remit has expanded to include underground hip-hop and British rap music with the release of What Do You Call It? From Grassroots to the Golden Era of UK Rap by David Kane and Independent As F***: Underground Hip-Hop From 1995-2005 by Ben Pedroche. To celebrate this, we present the first of a two-part interview between the authors. First up, David answers Ben’s questions.
As I write this, social media is up in arms because Stormzy has a partnership with McDonald’s. It’s amazing to think how far we’ve come to even have a British rapper famous enough to cause a social media backlash, right?
Definitely, as little as ten years ago, it would have been unthinkable for a brand like McDonald’s to invest in what is likely to be a seven-figure deal for a rapper. Ultimately, this rapper became a pop star, which I guess is indicative of the mainstream’s embrace of the music, which is not necessarily bad.
As for the social media backlash, again, it goes to show how much people care about the music, Stormzy in particular—who has held strong political views in the past—and the conflict, of course. On the face of it, it’s not a good look for Stormzy’s personal brand, but social media doesn’t allow for nuance and I’m inclined to believe his recent response.
When I began writing my book, I planned to include indie rap scenes outside of North America, of which the UK would have been a focus. The problem was, almost every hip-hop record from the UK was on an indie label, at least in the 80s and 90s, and therefore the main crux of the book being about independence vs major labels didn’t make sense for the UK. Do you think UK hip-hop could have been bigger a lot earlier had major labels invested more?
The major labels ignored UK hip-hop for decades. There may have been some exceptions, but that was spin-off labels like Melankolic/Virgin releasing Lewis Parker’s music. As you point out in one of your answers, the majors are mostly interested in the bottom line, and UK hip-hop hasn’t traditionally been commercial-sounding or looking, often intentionally so.
Obviously, that changed a bit when grime MCs started to get some buzz that the majors came calling with album deals, but that didn’t work too well, as I explore to a degree in the book. Ultimately, I think UK hip-hop as a major facet of UK rap as I’d prefer to define it, got bigger when it was supposed to, which is a shame in some ways as there are artists who probably deserved a bigger platform, but the timing wasn’t right.
In the intro to the book, you mention how you initially planned to focus on recent eras, but then realised you needed to go back further. Did this change your perspective on how the scene has evolved since the early days?
Yes, it did; it impressed upon me how relentlessly creative and resourceful the people making this music have been. If you want to see the future, just look at the past. It was interesting to see some of the patterns that emerged – unique music communities formed out of resistance during early Thatcherism and high youth unemployment, see what Jazzie B was doing with the Soul II Soul sound system (not rap per se, but a movement that helped shape the identity of the culture).
Fast forward 15 years or so later, grime emerges parallel to New Labour’s Urban Renaissance strategy, which catalyses gentrification, particularly in London.
When I first got into hip-hop, in 1993, UK emcees got stick for rapping in American accents. It always felt like the turning point was when artists started embracing their real accents, giving the music not just more authenticity, but also more local pride. Would you agree with that?
The accent aspect is important and comes up a lot, but I’d argue it is secondary to the subject matter MCs used. Whether that’s London Posse rapping about British fashion brands like Aquascutum and Burberry or, a few years later, Ty rapping about Ronnie Whelan and obviously, there’s Roots Manuva’s beans on toast. Grime, then road rap, and drill accelerated a sense of local pride, even if it was very London-centric for a long time.
The flip side of this is that there was a bit of a stigma about any rapper who didn’t have a London accent. It must have been way harder for artists from other cities to break through?
This took longer. Even when you had someone like Tricky break the mould musically, rapping with a Bristolian accent, it didn’t seem to catch on elsewhere in the country for a long time.
But yes, I think it would have been harder for artists from outside of the capital to break through in rap because of the music industry and media biases that have traditionally existed towards London. Fortunately, it’s changing now and you have MCs breaking through across the country, rapping in their accent about what matters to people where they’re from.
In my book I touch on how different types of hip-hop get pigeonholed into neat categories, often by critics, and how this can create too much division. Conversely, it seems like in the UK, artists intentionally segment themselves into very specific sub-genres, with little acknowledgement of the wider eco-system. For example, you discuss in the book how many grime artists say they don’t even like hip-hop. Did that surprise you, and what drives this?
This is why I chose to title my book, What Do You Call It? I think what drives it is a very human need to be seen and belong to something unique and ownable.
That being said, outsiders tend to lump all UK hip-hop together into one bucket, which fails to recognise the differences and specific nuances of the many sub-genres. Do you get that sense?
I do, I think it is probably because it’s the easiest way to describe it at a surface level. And that’s why I’ve been very intentional in my broad labelling of ‘UK rap’ as this acknowledges that there are different sounds, scenes and artists, some of which crossover others of which don’t.
Something that has bugged me about US hip-hop in the last decade is how it is no longer politically-charged or activist, at a moment in history where the country is very divided thanks to having such an awful person in charge. UK rap music is also known for its political message, but again this seems to have diminished in recent generations. What are your thoughts on this?
You’re right; it’s pretty concerning how little US hip-hop has a strong political message given our time. There are exceptions, as always, with rappers like No Name, and a new guy called Ghais Guervara, but even Kendrick Lamar’s grand polemical statements like “Alright” and “The Blacker the Berry” are ten years old. There seems to be some sort of drift; hip-hop has long been another product for consumption in the US. That’s part of the reason why UK rap is so interesting.
I think the political message is usually more implicit but no less potent, wrapped up in stories of identity and social injustice; MCs like Pa Salieu and Jehsi, who’s made as good a music exploring the working class experience as I’ve heard since Skinnyman. At a broader level, you have artists like Dave, Little Simz and Bashy, whose album released last year Being Poor Is Expensive, is a masterpiece and addresses issues like Windrush, repatriations and more (while also being really f**king good music).
How do you think UK hip-hop is perceived in the US, then and now, and does it matter?
I’ve been writing about music, mostly hip-hop and rap, for twenty years, and that question always came up in the first decade. But I don’t think anyone cares now, not from the UK, at least. I still hear a few OG heads from the US tell me they ‘can’t understand the accent’, but I’ve been contacted by many young folks in the US thanking me for writing this book, which is great to see.
Although music journalism has struggled over the last couple of decades, there’s still plenty of good writing if you know where to look. How important is it that we keep documenting the history of a genre like hip-hop, and what motivates you personally to keep doing it?
I think it’s vital that we continue to document hip-hop and music more broadly though brave, thoughtful and passionate journalism. But I do worry for its future in the written form. I think that’s partly why I was motivated to write a book, to try and keep these stories alive in a way that can be picked up by some young kid in a library somewhere in the future and consumed in a way that requires proper attention, and dare I say, learning.
Similar to your question to me, what’s your personal favourite record from the periods you cover in the book?
It’s difficult to pick just one record as What Do You Call It? Covers different rap scenes in the UK over the last 40 years. So I’ll answer a slightly different question, the record that caused me to reapparise it as a ‘classic’ after to listening to it again in more detail was Common Sense by J Hus. There’s just so much going on musically it probably shouldn’t work but it does because he has such charisma and style, and JAE 5’s beats are amazing.
Lastly, what’s your honest opinion of the state of UK hip-hop right now in 2025, and where do you think it’s headed next?
I think we’re entering an inflexion point in UK rap, where a lot of the bigger artists are moving further into pop territory and then we’re seeing a space for experimental, more personal music being released by smaller artists supported by things like Victory Lap radio. I think this will result in more varied, independent-minded music that might be ‘hip-hop’ in attitude but sound like something else.
