Review Summary: Are you sitting comfortably? Well, put your seatbelts on, 'cause you're in for a harrowing ride
Political initiatives regarding youth culture in the UK are nothing new. The loutish, hoodie-wearing, drug-abusing, grammar-raping, passive-aggressive sociopaths that are all under twelve years of age and sit on the balcony railing of a colossal, graffiti-covered tower block, spitting on anyone walking beneath them with the vague semblance of a smile on their face, has been a stereotype in the form of the much-mailgned ‘chav’ for a considerable period of time now. Social panic spread through the common news footage of large groups, hanging around on street corners with knives jammed into the waistband of reebok trackies, threatening passers-by with petrol bombs and poor linguistics; before long, the phenomenon became an epidemic, initiating a new clique-driven hierarchy amongst young people, and driving politicians to scratch their balding scalps in vague recognition of a problem. Now, however, in the aftermath of a series of UK riots that were all-too close to home for some of us, Plan B provides listeners with a new perspective on a culture that many berate as the reason Britain is such a mess; the perspective from the people themselves.
Ben Drew, the brains and musical driving force behind Plan B, has always been outspoken regarding his political views, particularly regarding the government’s treatment of the poor and working classes.
Ill Manors is his political manifesto; an erudite and heartfelt observational portrait of what’s wrong with Britain, and who better to spearhead such a project than Ben Drew, who was raised in east London and belongs to this prevalent demographic. The album features skits and excerpts from the impressive accompanying motion picture ‘Ill Manors’ woven into the songs, and whilst it is not a concept album as such, certain themes, motifs and characters that are featured in the production are alluded to and considered in the music, creating a narrative that doesn’t necessarily tell a fully-fledged story, but explores the important aspects exhaustively.
Plan B’s second major effort,
The Defamation Of Strickland Banks was an ambitious but ultimately rather hit-and-miss affair that chronicled the life and misfortunes of the eponymous fictional character. The success of the album, however, was rooted in its’ style, which seamlessly blended hip hop and soul. Unfortunately, neither of these aspects was developed enough and the end result was an album that was solid but underwritten. With his third album, Drew has stripped away the prominent jazz and soul influences for an old school hip hop style. This is much more appropriate for subject matter such as this, and as a result, the album is more focused, both in its lyrical themes and actual music. Album lead single and opening track ‘Ill Manors’ is a well-judged protest song with some interesting orchestral refrains and drum-and-bass influence throughout. Drew makes his points throughout eloquently and with a modicum of intelligence that is quite surprising. This is prevalent throughout the album, although there are a couple of occasions where ‘street integrity’ overshadows this. Second track ‘I Am The Narrator’ seems the more fitting introduction to the album, using a minimalist bassline and piano hook, but also incorporating a nursery rhyme-like tune, similar to that of a music box. The percussive elements of the song complement this unorthodox instrumental choice well, juxtaposing an air of innocence with (questionable) experience.
A striking lyrical depth is on display throughout the album, relating uncomfortable anecdotes effectually and with surprising empathy. This is perhaps where Drew deserves the most commendation; he has given chart music a degree of meaning again. Although the majority of songs on the album would be required to be censored for airplay, Plan B produces pop music, and his songs always chart highly in the United Kingdom. It is impressive that a man as relatively young as Drew has the clarity of vision to write music with genuine bite, relevance and meaning. Although there are a few instances of the musical quality slipping a little here and there (‘Deepest Shame’, ‘Lost My Way’), the lyricism is consistently on-point and fittingly heated. It’s interesting to note that throughout the album, though, references to actual politics are fleeting and, when they are used, are used mostly in an ironic way (‘He’s got a hoodie on, give him a hug/ on second thoughts, don’t, you don’t wanna get mugged’ – 'Ill Manors'). This betrays a little immaturity on the part of Drew, but as the album itself serves to make points about the lower classes, the humour is reflective and very tongue-in-cheek, despite any serious implications that are alluded to. Such lines as, ‘If you’re out of ammunition go and buy The Sun, and read up on the council houses/ and violent scum, still pissing taxpayer’s money up the wall’ (‘Great Day For A Murder), and ‘That’s why they use our slang against us to be derogatory/ we just fuel the fire with our thugged out philosophies/ like crimes the only way we’re gonna feed off this economy’ (‘Live Once’), feel just clever enough to appeal to listeners concerned with the state of Britain (or any country that is in political dire straits), but feel streetwise enough to appeal to a broader spectrum of people who can relate to the ideas on a more personal level.
It’s a definite step forward for the promising musician, and although there are a few instances on the album where the musical styles become a little stale (the use of high-pitched voice samples on ‘Lost My Way’ are a horribly misguided addition), the final message comes through as crystal clear as Drew intended, presenting a frightening all-too real portrait of a country gone to the dogs. Bulldogs, to be precise.
