However highly you rate Central Cee, the West London wordsmith has jumped a hurdle that seemed impossible to defeat for so long – a modern UK rap crossover to the mainstream US market. Cench has been doing numbers in Britain, with Can’t Rush Greatness securing his second UK No.1. But just as impressive, the record sold nearly as much stateside as it did on his home soil. Decorated with features from 21 Savage, Lil Durk and Lil Baby, it claimed the No.9 spot on the Billboard 200, the highest-charting release from a British rapper in America to date.
For the previous decades, the bridge between Britannia and the land of Uncle Sam couldn’t carry the weight of our differences. The attitude of some American listeners is embodied in that Aries Spears interview where he says he “hates hearing Londoners rap” before mimicking them with “bop, bop, bo-di bop bop bop” gibberish. No matter what we’re saying, our accent, slang, and styles weren’t being taken seriously.
These short-sighted views have been around for long. I remember reading a now-scrubbed interview of Huey Morgan scorning grime legends like Lethal Bizzle and Dizzee Rascal, claiming they weren’t as “street” as NWA and just rap about “cars and girls” (as if Cube and Lorenzo weren’t rolling in a Benzo). Charlamagne couldn’t tell that Big Shaq was a novelty character, and posh driller parody Unknown P caused some cross-Atlantic confusion, with many YouTube and Insta comments assuming him to be the real deal. Not only were our accents or slang the problem – people sometimes think we’re all fox-hunting royalists that have more in common with Downton Abbey than downtown Hackney.
While I don’t herald Central Cee as the most intricate rapper we have to offer, I can certainly respect his talent, artistry and achievements. A UK spitter with a sharp flow, jumping on UK Drill beats, who’s managed to make an accessible, palatable sound for an American audience. And he hasn’t sacrificed his identity – even poking fun at the “language barrier” on his new album, rapping “American girls keep laughin’ any time I say, “Bottle of water“. But behind this success were years of groundwork. Cench scored a blinding goal, but it couldn’t have happened without the many players who brought the ball up field…
During the 2000’s, there were few Brits who gained recognition from the US. The leading light of the early grime scene, Dizzee Rascal became our first real ambassador for UK Rap. While Boy In Da Corner didn’t scrape the Billboard 200, it managed to chart 14 on the Heatseekers and 16 on the Independent Albums charts. It was grime to the core – skippy, garage and game-influenced sounds with bars that ranged from clash-worthy bravado to tales of anxious estate living. It was rightfully hailed by Village Voice critics like Robert Christgau and Jeff Chang as an authentic, enthralling and thoughtful work.
Another act to find moderate success was The Streets. Mike Skinners poetic everyman lyrics dripped with our special sense of humour and observations on our daily culture. Their 2006 album The Hardest Way To Make An Easy Living peaked at 68 on the Billboard 200. Neither Raskit nor Skinner were making a big splash across the pond, but their impact and legacies were still felt. Detroit MC Danny Brown lists them both as influences, claiming “if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t make the music I make now.” He even holds Dizzee’s name next to Kanye and Nas.
One rapper that’s sometimes forgotten in the convo, perhaps due to her music owing more to global influences than UK MC culture, is M.I.A. The eclectic, worldly sound of her 2007 album Kala reached No. 18 on the Billboard 200, with the alt-hip hop, African-folk inspired anthem “Paper Planes” hitting No.4 on the Billboard Hot 100. Never mind having her name cited next to Kanye as influence – she collaborated with Ye, Jay-Z, T.I and Lil Wayne, with her “Paper Planes” vocals sampled on the posse cut “Swagga Like Us”. It ended up securing an award for ‘Best Rap Performance by a Duo or Group’ at the 51st Grammy Awards, where she performed alongside the four US legends, 9 months pregnant at the time. I wonder if that kid came out singing “Mr West is in the building!”
After years of suppression by the authorities and dwindling finances, the scene went through an identity crisis. It wasn’t feasible to survive making the same music anymore. And so, grime entered its “pop” era. Pioneers like Roll Deep, Wiley, Tinchy, Chip and others branched out to a more commercial lane. The 140BPM’s and aggressive, hyper atmosphere of its inception were replaced with EDM synths and party lyrics that were more akin to Flo Rida than Flowdan. It was night-out-at-Oceana rum and coke (the sugary kind) rap. And really, can we blame them? They got No.1 records, major label signings, TV and radio exposure, and some real money in their hands as creators. But it seemed the elements that made the genre so vital, so captivating, and so raw were being lost in the chase for the charts.
And then came 2013. A return to the roots was overdue, and an impactful song from Meridian Dan was one of its catalysts. The buzz around “German Whip” was electric. A record with old-school flows, a heavy beat fusing grime with modern trap elements, and a memorable repeating hook that harkened back to the early era of the grime scene. The tune and its low-budget SB.TV produced video received mainstream airplay, and it climbed to No.13 on the UK Singles chart. But more importantly, it lit a spark in the hearts of fans and artists alike – we could do it our way. It was time to champion the authentic sound of our areas, taking it back to its essence while updating it for the 2010’s with a rejuvenated sense of creativity.
Soon after, Skepta dropped another throwback anthem, “That’s Not Me”, featuring his brother JME. Drawing inspiration from the Eski sounds of the 2000’s, it was another bubbling hit for the UK. With another enjoyably lo-fi video that cost £80 to make, it’s instrumental, lyrics and aesthetic felt like a rallying cry for a rewind from the mainstream rat race – “I used to wear Gucci, threw it all in the bin cause that’s not me”. The momentum was in place to launch another global outreach – Skeppy dropped another well received track, the Memphis-inspired banger “It Ain’t Safe” featuring A$AP Bari. After numerous delays, he finally gave us Konnichiwa in 2016. Loved by critics, the work stood firmly in its British soundscape while dipping a toe into American production trends. A host of homegrown talent was brought on, including fellow members of BBK and grimey originators like Wiley and D Double E, as well as new-school talent Novelist. It also presented a couple of interesting UK/US collabs, with A$AP Nast and Pharrell Williams. While the album only hit 160 on the US Billboard, his presence was established as the second star for the states to see. If you asked an American about British rappers, Skepta was most likely the one they’d point to.
Throughout these mid-2010’s, our scene was under a watchful eye from big names in music ready to co-sign. These days, Drake’s cultural prestige has taken a beating from his battle with Kendrick, and Kanye’s recast himself as an anti-Semitic pariah. But back in the mid-2010’s, these were two of the biggest tastemakers for hip hop culture. So, when Ye bought out a roster of London rappers to be the background hype for his “All Day” performance at the Brits, it felt like a small victory. While they weren’t given a speaking part, seeing our faces and hearing Kanye shout “Skepta, thank you!” was a decent nudge of exposure. Even more was provided by Drizzy through his More Life mixtape, drawing influence from the UK grime scene. Now, it’s easy to throw the “culture vulture” label at Drake – hearing him incorporate our lingo into his verses may cause some winces and groans. But I think his admiration for our rappers is genuine, maybe amplified by the shared Caribbean diaspora between Canada and Britain. It might have sounded like he enjoyed Top Boy a little too much, but he also set the wheels in motion to bring it back to TV, so we can give props where it’s due there.
In more recent years, we’ve seen Skepta soar further in the land of stars and stripes, linking up on tracks with A$AP Rocky, Kid Cudi, Future and Playboi Carti. But a crop of newer artists also started to make inroads into America. Stormzy became another flag-bearer for UK rap. His skyrocketing success in our home scene slyly bled into America, appearing on US TV and radio, becoming another reference point for their audiences. Dave, a bar-heavy lyricist with a knack for witty wordplay, has had songs with Drake and Jack Harlow, and achieved a spot on the Billboard Heatseekers. Little Simz and her cinematic masterpiece Sometimes I Might Be Introvert received glowing reviews both here and stateside. She’s toured with Lauryn Hill, placed in Rolling Stone’s ‘200 Greatest Hip-Hop Albums of All Time’, and even been praised by Kendrick Lamar as “the illest doing it right now”. We’ve also seen drill icon Headie One team up on tracks with Drake and Future. None of these artists diluted their regional character to cater to their critics and collaborators. Stormzy even turned down a collab with Jay-Z for “Take Me Back to London”, saying no to one of his biggest inspirations to preserve the songs authenticity. He probably missed a bigger royalty cheque, but you must respect the artistic integrity.
Today, there’s another mark of British influence that can be seen worldwide – in drill music. No doubt, Chicago were the inventors. I remember the mix of fascination from fans and furore from hip-hop purists who couldn’t stomach Chief Keef’s violent brags and Young Chop’s mammoth, menacing productions. But in the last few years, drill scenes from all around the world – Europe, Australia, Africa, and even America – are moulding their sounds from the musical modelling of the UK variation. To hear rappers like PopSmoke and Fivio Foreign ride on riddims with the same sliding basslines and syncopated hi-hats that Brixton group 67 would jump on is a big flex. In a full circle moment, no longer were brits trying to replicate the sound of Americans – now, they were trying to sound like us.
It’s within this transatlantic sound that Central Cee has broken the barrier. A shrewd navigator of trends and tastes, he’s made calculated moves that have opened him up to American markets. Like with “Doja”, a bouncy drill track sampling Eve’s R&B classic “Let Me Blow Your Mind”, accompanied by a video from Lyrical Lemonade. Or his collaborations with Ice Spice, that’s seen both rappers close enough to tease gossiping fans with a fabricated love story. One standout moment may be his LA Leakers Freestyle, where he represented London fully, translating US phrases into our UK slang. He’s rubbed shoulders and performed with Drake but kept a new song between them in his back pocket for now, seeing it as a predictable move for his first album. Now, we have another ambassador from our British Isles, reaching new heights some couldn’t imagine years back. It’s not quite the second coming of the ‘60’s “British Invasion”, but now we’re seeking the cross-cultural validation on our own terms. No more fetching coffee, it’s time to show them what’s really our ‘cup of tea’.