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Harlesden globetrotters

Americans rap, Brits imitate. Except in the case of Eusebe, hip hop heroes of NW10. By Andy Gill

Friday 09 February 1996 01:02 GMT
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In a slightly seedy hotel not far from the desultory pulchritude of the Place Pigalle, the three Eusebes are contemplating the equally dubious delights of Parisian cuisine rapide. After a hard day's pressing of the promotional flesh, the Gallic egg, burger and chips is going down rather less than a treat with siblings Steve and Sharon and their cousin Alison. "Is there a McDonald's near here?" asks Alison, grimly manoeuvring a scorched meat patty round her plate. An hour later, she's a little happier for the Golden Arches experience, ready once more to face the world. So much for superior French cooking.

Eusebe's Tales from Mama's Yard was one of last year's more uplifting albums, revealing an aspect of Britpop that many chose to overlook. Of course, the fact that Eusebe are black, and deal in equal parts rap and soul, didn't help their cause in a music industry still chary of black music in general, and black British music in particular. It often seems as if only one black British act per year is allowed through the portals of celebrity, and last year's lucky winner was Goldie.

Not so in France, which for all its generally feeble grasp of pop music, has locked on to the possibilities of rap music with great tenacity: after all, rap is basically just talking with attitude, and the French love to talk almost as much as they love to eat. In France, Eusebe's single "Summertime Healing", built on what's known in copyright circles as an "interpolation" of Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing", was a hit last Autumn, despite its by then anachronistic tone. In Britain too, it was released a little too late to catch the summer-hit wave, but still made it to just outside the Top 30, in itself a considerable achievement for a British rap record.

The song was typical of the album, which is easily the closest a British act has come to the rootsy good-time style of Arrested Development and Spearhead. An infectious blend of versatile, articulate rapping and smooth soul singing over taut, "phat" funk samples, it's concerned with life rather than death, with the fuss and foibles of everyday living rather than grim fantasies of criminality. So while the thornier issues of racism and police harassment are well covered in songs such as "Smell Dat" and "P.O.L.I.C.E.", there's also plenty of room for the less publicised aspects of life in their hometown, Harlesden, such as the delights of fried chicken ("True 2 Da Bone"), the minor aggravation of friends who overstay their welcome ("Da Blockas"), and the corrosive persuasions of advertising hype ("Massa Says it's Good"). And, thanks to the group's balance of male and female, there's none of the bitchin' and ho' in' usually associated with rap. Quite the contrary - "Captain of Love" offers an amusingly sardonic assessment of the classic lurrve- man stereotype of soul music.

"We don't go on about Harlesden because it's anything special," says Sharon Eusebe. "It's because it's not special. It's an ordinary street, but it's our street, and we're firmly agreed, as rappers, that we should rap about things we know. Rap's supposed to reflect both the big things and the small things that make up street life, rather than just the guns and the muggings. It's mums doing their shopping, and kids going to school in their uniforms - it all works together. We don't believe in just giving a one-sided view of black culture in Britain; there's too much to narrow it down to just Linford Christie or Snoop Doggy Dogg."

Eusebe's is a specifically north-west London experience, rather than an imitation of the classic south-central Los Angeles experience, and all the more welcome for that. I mean, could you imagine Snoop Doggy Dogg rapping: "I'm an old school hooligan/ I rocks Val Doonican/ And if you wanna tussle, I'm a kick you in the gooligans," as Sharon's brother Steve does here? Would he have the wit and the warmth to offer up such a chipper threat, let alone the range of cultural reference to name-check the cardiganed crooner? It seems doubtful.

For close on a decade, however, British rap crews have seemed hidebound by an imported identity, vainly trying to ape the grammar and mores of hardcore American rap, either by imitation of the gangsta style, or by adapting the political anger of Public Enemy to suit British racial tensions, as in the case of Asian rappers FunDaMental. But recently, with the advent of Eusebe and colleagues such as Darkman, CJ Lewis and The Brotherhood (see album reviews), British rappers appear to be developing their own coherent vocabulary and style.

"British rap sort of comes second to the American identity," says Steve, "and it shouldn't do - it should be our thing first."

"Hip hop is undeniably American," agrees his sister. "It's their music, their history, and it'll always have those tones. But it's like folk music - individual countries can put their own experiences into it. And it should sound different, because we haven't got the same history that Americans have."

"It's not necessarily a case of who's the best man for the job, there's room for both types," adds Alison. "There's no doubt the British sound's different, but it needs to gain the respect."

"The only time the Americans will start to respect it is when it's coming from the British end of things, and not what they've got 200 versions of it already," believes Sharon. "If you look at the American magazine Source, you'll see a new rap act every week - they've got it coming out of their ears. I saw one the other day aged five, and there's another mixer aged three! His dad stands him on orange crates, and he scratches away. He's good, too. So there's no point in us trying to sell their own stuff back to them, 'cos they do it better."

The situation of rap in Britain has not been helped by a reputation built on such stupidities as the riot that occurred at a London show by US hardcore crew Onyx a couple of years back. Not surprisingly, promoters have been reluctant to put on shows while the threat of guns - another unwelcome American import - looms over the genre, and rap has consequently lost much of its impetus, particularly with the rise of jungle in recent years. "I know a lot of people who were doing hip hop when jungle came along," says Steve, "and they suddenly forgot hip hop and are just doing jungle now. Hip hop lost a lot of people to jungle."

Radio stations, meanwhile, have likewise grown understandably wary of the routine swearing that is apparently crucial to most rappers' "streetwise" authenticity. "Yes, it's difficult," says Steve. "Capital Radio don't play anything with a rap in it - they actually took out the rap from a Michelle Gayle song before they'd play it. If they did it with us, they'd have to take out the whole song."

"It's not rap as such that the radio stations object to," explains Sharon. "PJ & Duncan are perfectly acceptable, as is that 'Stayin' Alive' song; it's rap in its pure form, and the message it sells, that they don't like. It sells black aggression, and they won't play it. If it's sweetly packaged, it's okay. But rap's not that type of music: like jazz, it's an attitude as well, and an atmosphere around the music. If you polish rap up too much, it loses its appeal."

In Britain, the release of Eusebe's splendid debut album was also rather wrong-footed by the media's apparent inability to see pop life beyond the holy triumvirate of Oasis, Blur and Pulp, though one or two of the more broad-minded critics did cite it as one of the triumphs of Britpop. The band, however, were more heartened by their inclusion than disappointed at the paucity of coverage. "We were quite struck to be included in it," says Steve. "It was nicer to be thrown in with that, rather than with the Boyzones and Upside Downs, because at least it has some credibility."

The credibility stretches a little further due to Shaun Ryder's decision to have Eusebe support Black Grape on their current UK tour - an appropriate choice, Black Grape being the most funky and black-influenced of the mainstream Britpop bands. Tonight they play Brixton Academy, which is probably as close to a home venue as Eusebe could get without donning buckskin and stetsons and playing the Mean Fiddler. Get there early.

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