Review Summary: Coming down
The sound of Mike Skinner's toneless pronunciation and alley-talk profundity has come to hold a somewhat legendary status amongst UK urban music enthusiasts. The style, a deceptively DIY brand of hip-hop that doesn't pander to genre conventions, garnered an acclaim for its creative blending of world-weary lyrical lambasts and minimalistic instrumental loops. It comfortably nestled somewhere between garage music and a very formative style of underground hip-hop, with a sharp sense of self-awareness enshrouding the experience. It was home to a vocal delivery that teetered precariously between spoken word and rap, presented with a listless yet surprisingly engaging clarity that rendered the artist able to tap into grounded, down-to-earth topics with insight and thoughtful composure. Yet on The Hardest Way To Make An Easy Living, these hallmarks are re-utilised in a most underwhelming way, offering little that has not been heard on the previous two releases by The Streets. It's not that the release wants for personality, nor that the style has diverged into one less unique; far from it, there are some legitimately creative artistic choices at play here. Unfortunately, however, many of these ideas are underdeveloped or just plain tedious, mostly due to the severe clash of tones and oddly lukewarm production choices.
A big focus of the album is Skinner's fame and status as a celebrity due to the success of his previous releases, particularly the album preceding this one which featured the tracks 'Dry Your Eyes' and 'Fit But You Know It', which are undoubtedly some of The Streets' most well known and most enduring singles. As a result, the album feels somewhat directionless; somewhat devoid of many of the relatable topics that formed the basis for his previous releases. Tracks such as single 'When You Wasn't Famous' has Skinner lamenting his fame and even his success, musing upon what has changed for him in recent years. It's earnest enough, but offers little in the way of enjoyability or insight beyond what would be expected, rendering it somewhat bland overall. Similarly, 'All Goes Out The Window', with its maudlin hook and trite lyricism lack the edge and lyrical barbs the rapper is known for, coming across as a protracted offering of 'woe is me' throughout with little to recommend it beyond its mellow tone. In contrast, the well-known humour unique to Skinner can be found elsewhere on the release, and these swings land more often than not, despite occasionally feeling somewhat contrived. 'War Of The Sexes' is humorous and catchy, albeit repetitive. It handles the subject matter with a knowing wink-and-a-nod to its archaic proposition, and is listenable despite being slightly pedestrian in execution. Conversely, 'Can't Con An Honest John' is a bizarre concept piece featuring elaborate swindles dramatized as a faux instruction manual. It is entertaining and genuinely funny in places, but the bland instrumental hook and odd placement on the record mean that it pales in comparison to Skinner's other, superior works of humour.
'Memento Mori' and 'Hotel Expressionism' are two of the catchiest songs on the release, although the latter's instrumental has the air of a demo button on a keyboard being repeatedly pressed. 'Memento Mori' exhibits a playful Skinner musing upon his mortality, and is home to his thoughtful assessment of this philosophy ('it's a load of boring ***e'). It is endearing in a way only a Streets song can be, and is definitely one of the high points of the release, exuding genuine personality and an underpinning of crude, affable sarcasm. Single release and opening track 'Prangin' Out', is perhaps best viewed as the hyperactive sister piece to Skinner's powerful ode to nightlife and drug use, 'Blinded By The Lights'. It lacks inspiration, and comes across as an inferior offshoot rather than a counterpart to the powerful ballad. Similarly, the title track, with its boring chorus and mournful beat lacks the creative flair that had previously come so easy to the artist, both in terms of lyricism and production. However, 'Never Went To Church' showcases a vulnerability and well-realized iconoclastic centrepiece to complement the moody atmospherics, and although it doesn't reach the heights of Skinner's most beloved output, it is still a fully-formed artistic statement with enough heart to sustain it. It's just a shame that this same level of thought could not have been imbued into other songs on the release.
Considering the punchy, streetwise eloquence of Mike Skinner's first two full-length releases under the moniker of The Streets, it's somewhat surreal how much of a fall from grace The Hardest Way To Make An Easy Living is. It serves as a comedown of sorts for Skinner, whose garbled attempts to get his feelings onto paper and synchronised to music has resulted in an album far more self-indulgent and unfocused than it should have been. The flashes of light that penetrate the heavy black drapery of the album's vibe do little to elevate the experience, but rather accentuate the underdeveloped nature of the release as a whole. It's a real shame, as in terms of style very little appears to have changed, but the toll of fame clearly weighed heavy on Skinner for the term of the album's writing and it doesn't appear he has made much of a recovery since. What made Original Pirate Material and A Grand Don't Come For Free so engaging and, dare I say it, sublime, was the tantalising sense of legitimacy and realism that coursed through every second, presented in a uniquely creative and engaging way. The method is still there, underneath all of the drabness, yet the relatability and profundity is nowhere to be found, ejected from everything on display, except Skinner's dulcet, everyman delivery.
