Dizzee Rascal – Tongue N'Cheek

Soon after his gleamingly fresh debut album Boy In Da Corner, Rascal became a true success story. Raised on the streets of Bow in London and working his way into the mainstream at just eighteen is a respectable feat by itself but to actually bring an entire genre - grime - with you is another gigantic undertaking entirely.

So why, then, the now near twenty-five year old has decided to abandon the very musical roots that allowed him to grow and replace every ounce of originality for unashamed nonsense is completely lost to us. What it is, though, is both equally frustrating and upsetting.

Everything, and we really do mean everything, is as by-the-numbers as you could possibly imagine. Every guideline or rule-book ever created to make a catchy pop-song has been used in one way or another on here and not once does it even try to stand-out against the myriad of crap seen in today's charts.

His swagger, brutal tongue and vocal inflections as he delivered pound after pound of solid, aggressive, heavily London-accented rap seen on his first full-length was so intense and brooding that it easily stood out from the ranks. It delivered messages too, ranging from the anger of being a youth in London to the state of sex and STD's in a generation lost in one-night stands and drunken, foolish mistakes. On Tongue N' Cheek, the best you're going to get is talk of driving cars dangerously (Road Rage), being on holiday (Holiday) and earning "money, money, money, girls, girls, cash, cash" (Money, Money).

Sure he still sounds the same but there's no personality or emotion behind the hollow voice, just dollar signs and a big 'fuck-you all' smile. It's almost like he's forgotten how he even got to where he is in the first place and is content with banging out club-track after club-track with no room for any genuine display of the talent he so clearly possesses somewhere underneath all of those Nike-trainer contracts and gold chains. Where's the nastiness of Live-O disappeared to? The breathlessly spat anger seen during Jus' A Rascal's dying minutes? The relaxed and ponderous rhythm of Sittin' Here? Where in the hell has Dizzee Rascal gone?

Granted we're ignoring the two in-betweener albums Showtime and Maths & English and ittedly, they do show his transition from angry-grimester to pop-joker down to the last added synth. At least there was still some spirit of his younger side in those two records, even if they are both completely as forgettable as each-other. On this latest attempt, the only thing that's left from his past is his stage name.

Leisure holds probably his best vocal rhythm on the record and lyrically, it's the most self-aware song he's ever done, addressing everything we've just spoken about head on; "Even though it's controversial, when there's nothing sweet about it, but this time it's so commercial, there ain't nothing street about it. So forget about it, get off of your high horse, live a little, give a little, if not, give my balls a tickle cos it's only entertainment and I do it for the pleasure, course I do it for the payment but I do it at my leisure". That's all well and good Mr Rascal but unfortunately, it's some of the emptiest entertainment we've ever witnessed. Sure the production values are sky high and each song is destined for a number one slot at some time or another but the nonchalance of the artist himself is the single most negative aspect of it all.

The bright flame that was the Dizzee Rascal of yesteryear has steadily been flickering warily ever since that debut album came out in 2003 and it seems that finally, that flame has been permanently snuffed. In its place lights a new flame; a multi-coloured, pop behemoth that blazes bigger and brighter than ever before. Drawn in like moths, many will no doubt fall for its glowing, shiny exterior but we, frankly, are not the least bit attracted to it this time around.