Tues June 15, Neumo's, 9 pm, $15 adv.
With all the critical hot air being blown up Mike Skinner's ass for his new sophomore album, A Grand Don't Come for Free (Vice/Atlantic), it's a miracle he ain't satelliting Earth. His 2002 debut as the Streets, Original Pirate Material, garnered similar hysterical huzzahs two years ago for its gritty, witty depictions of urban British life from an everybloke's viewpoint. Some misguided critics called Skinner the English Eminem; trouble is, Eminem's a blatant provocateur with a chip on his shoulder the size of his wallet, while Skinner's just a geezer looking for excitement. Eminem radiates negative energy, Skinner oozes optimism (see "Stay Positive" and "Let's Push Things Forward" on OPM). Though he admits he's "Such a Twat" on A Grand, Skinner won't keep Tipper Gore up nights with his council-estate soap operas.
A Grand Don't Come for Free recounts protagonist Mike's hard-luck tribulations with money, gambling, booze, drugs, his girlfriend, mates, poorly washed jeans, and cell phones. Over the course of 11 songs, Mike concludes he can only rely on himself, with the dual-ending disc-closer "Empty Cans" toggling ambivalently between self-pity and tentative optimism.
"I get quite intense with what I'm doing and I tend to take things to their absolute extreme," Skinner says over the phone from London about his M.O. for the new album. "I didn't think [the new disc] was that different [from OPM]. I just wanted to do story songs with rap music. To me it didn't seem that weird, but maybe it was a weird thing to do."
By making A Grand a concept album, Skinner raises our expectations of his verbal skills. He's undoubtedly a deft storyteller, but his characters lack development, so, as fine as the albums' last two tracks ("Dry Your Eyes," "Empty Cans") are, it's debatable whether he's earned the pathos we're supposed to feel while hearing them. While those Ulysses comparisons should be shelved, Skinner definitely deserves respect for his ambitious effort and keen eye for detail.
"I think I am an innovator," Skinner says without any bravado. "I try to do things differently. Innovation is mixing styles. That's what my strong point is."
Though his releases are often filed in record stores' hiphop sections, Skinner doesn't rap so much as rhythmically relate anecdotes in an immensely likable, blokey manner. His lyrics are clever (especially on OPM), but not as clever as, say, MC Paul Barman's can be. On A Grand, the plot's more important than wordplay.
It would be ludicrous (even Ludacris) if Skinner tried to imitate hiphop's archetypal African-American delivery, but another criticism of A Grand is that some of his flows are so willfully awkward, they're practically unlistenable. The same goes for some of his beats. Maybe there's a kind of genius in employing such clumsy cadences, though. Clod-hopping as A Grand's beats and flows are, these devices make the Streets' songs stick in your head as indelibly as any Beatles single.
"Yeah, people say my style is quite quirky," Skinner admits. "I try to get across more what I'm saying than sticking to a rigid flow."
It's almost easier to prefer Original Pirate Material, which boasts better beats and more dynamic arrangements, and possesses more memorable lines. OPM radiates an exhilarating freshness--quasi-hiphop laced with UK garage's peppier tempi--which A Grand just can't match. But A Grand probably has a better chance for radio play in America. The new release has a few tracks that have a legit shot for the charts--"Could Well Be In," "Dry Your Eyes," and "Fit but You Know It." "Fit" is a bastardization of the blues standard "I'm a Man," part 971, revved up to chugging, garage-rock pace. It could nicely segue into a Billy Childish song. "Dry Your Eyes" apes Jimmy Webb's weepy, wistful balladry, with backing vocalist Matt Sladen chiming in Belle & Sebastian-like with consoling, if trite, advice. The blissfully soulful "Could Well Be In" captures first-date elation with an observation about female hair-twirling signaling sexual attraction.
Even with only a trio of possible hits, though, maybe Skinner really is the ultimate hiphop artist. If true hiphop means "keeping it real," Skinner succeeds with a vengeance. A Grand is so real, it verges on banal. And in those terms, daring to be so banal and vulnerable is as brave as stepping to a gangsta.
