Lady Sovereign, Scala, London <!-- none onestar twostar threestar fourstar fivestar -->

Ed Caesar
Tuesday 13 February 2007 01:00 GMT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

"You's in the midget's mansion now," spits Lady Sovereign, the diminutive MC from the Chalkhill Estate. But "Sov" - born Louise Harman in Wembley in 1985 - has travelled a long way from her north-London roots. Three years ago, she was the darling of the grime scene, making people laugh and move in equal measure to witty tracks like "Ch Ching". But Grime never quite broke out of its underground base, and the foul-mouthed little strumpet was forced to look to America for recognition. In 2005, she got just that when, after a personal audition with Jay-Z, she signed to his Def Jam label, joining such hip-hop luminaries as The Roots and Nas.

So, when she appears at the Scala in King's Cross in front of a baying collection of tracksuits and jauntily angled caps, she does so as a local girl done good. Her debut album, Public Warning, has been a hit in America. But - with the occasional cringeworthy cross-cultural reference (does Sovereign really live in a "council apartment"?) - it marks a slight departure from the unabashed street patois with which she attracted her fans.

Not that they care. Tonight, Sovereign appears - with her hair in the trademark half braid, half pigtail - in baggy jeans, gold-on-black T-Shirt, hoodie, and wraparound shades. And, to the accompaniment of decks, bass guitar, drums and her diehard fans mouthing their favourite lines, she mixes up old and new tracks. It's a spirited set - Sovereign bounces around the Scala's stage like a toddler - but is hampered by a sound system that lets down both artist and audience. "I can't hear myself up here," she complains. The crowd receive a fuzzy vocal too.

It's a shame, because her wit shines through on individual lines, such as the derisory "Broom": "Stupid little bitch, don't be starting riots/ If you wanna be starting something, why not start a diet?"

By the end of the evening, though, one has the impression that it is Sovereign who is punching above her weight. Although her delivery is strong, her material does not quite hold the room's attention. Perhaps that's because she is finding it a little hard to keep her own attention. "I'm pissed," she admits, looking every inch the Friday night troublemaker.

There is one great communal moment in the set, when "the biggest midget in the game" leads the crowd in a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" for her DJ. But, personal celebrations aside, Sov has yet to crack the secret of holding a room in her tiny hand.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in