Showtime

Just one year after a mushroom cloud of invective and introspection exploded and Boy In Da Corner was born, Dizzee Rascal is back with Showtime. It’s a fitting title for an album which sees young Dylan Mills not simply establishing himself as the best British MC of all time, but making a great big burlesque show of doing so. Showtime is a massive record.
Following up an album like Boy In Da Corner can’t have been easy, nonetheless Dizzee’s production once again stretches taut the boundaries of what the word music can mean. Sure there are nods to The Neptunes and their shuffling avant-pop on tracks like ‘Everywhere’ and ‘Knock Knock’, but the truth is most of Showtime inhabits uncharted territory.
Dizzee himself is as vibrant as ever, exploding onto every track with an enthusiasm so forceful it leaves you trying to recall when music last sounded so exciting. He’s funny too. Even his threats of physical violence have a sense of humour, like on ‘Everywhere’ when he chirps “But I ain’t mad/I’m a lovely lad/I’ll give you the loveliest beating that you ever had’.
Showtime is a party album, but it’s also loaded with paranoia, and vandalises the fetishization of fame so savagely that the line “fuck the glitz and glamour” could probably appear in Latin at the bottom of Dizzee Rascal’s coat of arms. And yet Showtime is once again the sound of a young person from the bottom forcing themselves to the top by any means possible.
But more than this it’s the sound of a disillusioned young person revelling in making music, which will appeal to disillusioned young people who revel in listening to music. In 2004 there’s only one Dylan in the pop game. Essential.