Unsurprising revelations #272
...Dizzee Rascal's Boy in Da Corner? It's not just that it's as good as all those Moonies who went crazy over it said it was back when it came out; listening to it this morning, in a time when the notion of the masterpiece has been (thank God) somewhat marginalized, it sounds like, ahem, scuffle scuffle, dunno how to say this, but...it sounds like a fucking masterpiece. It's the use of space that's getting me today, which is weird, because I remember feeling penned-in the first time I heard it: like there was nowhere to turn, no way to get free. This was (and is) why I preferred Showtime, which was lots more fun than Boy and which did the right thing by not just claiming dance turf through a series of dizzyingly complex signifiers but by making it glaringly obvious: you can dance to this. Today, though, Boy seems to waft cool air across the room - I hear wind blowing, almost - it's like the night sky. The only track that still word-associations stuff like "claustrophobic" out of me is, oddly, "Jus' A Rascal," the funniest track on the album, which begins with a huge open riff but cuts off the ring gradually 'til at the end there's just you and a frothing nineteen-year-old listening to his answering machine messages.
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