At eight or ten I wondered why my voice wasn't breaking yet I was impatient to get from A to Z so I'd break a sweat, play cassettes in my tape deck waiting for the day I could step to a stage and get paid respect, paid a cheque maybe the other kids would even play with me then It's great to pretend the tune was written for you that's why you sing with the radio while it ignores you You perform awful but feel a lot better Boom Boom Boom, Here Come the Hotstepper Even back then my preference was funky but less funky house than House in the Country Syncopation, soul, anybody ill with it other kids had Whigfield, I was feeling Bill Withers and to this day I'm still with him because nothing beats a sweet voice on distilled rhythms
I'm digging up my roots for you Cooking up a little tuneful food Come to the garden for a barbecue and chill with me
Before I even saw South Park on TV I knew by heart the South Park CD GTA: 1969 opened a life long affinity for Trojan Return of Django, Skinhead Moonstomp music of Jamaican origin liberating my boom box Too young for Appetite for Destruction so The Offspring were my rock introduction That was all I needed to be free a CD with some power chords shredding like a power saw "Fuck me, wow" I thought how can plucked strings be this powerful? But then I found another source of auditory debauchery this naughty teen thought was sweet I bought a CD by an emineMC called "Hi! My Name Is Slim Shady" I played it in my hi-fi daily it never seemed to cease to amaze me He'd say some crazy things that were great for a teenager that needed danger I'd replay the lyrics amazed at the way the images would flicker in my brain so vividly An outsider, a country bumpkin sitting inside with the Outsidaz bumping There's something about rhymes nothing else quite does as well, I love it Cypress Hill: Live at the Fillmore I'm not going to lie, that film was raw Each rap I heard, each film I saw inspired me to build my skills some more so I bought more CDs to imitate Believe me, back in the day it was great
I'm digging up my roots for you Set the mood and feel those soothing grooves Come to the garden for a barbecue and chill with me
I had piano lessons after every last school day but my patience was thinner than an anorexic I didn't want to play ballads anyway I had a daydream of breakbeats and a pen and paper So I said I'd make the make believe real and make some real reel to reels like B-Real But the magic's made on computers today so I used Magix Music Maker Read the instructions, learnt all the book taught myself big beats like Norman Cook Always cooking up a new track though with no microphone I couldn't actually do rap That was too bad, but it wasn't too bad 'cause I'd already forgot and had a new fad Threw away The Source, bought a new mag made new mates, talked in new slang I was a punk rocker now, proper loud would you believe I grabbed any opportunity to fuck about? But what about the music? I've gone and lost it now So I grabbed a guitar and started rocking out Made a band with my mates called MatronsApron We played around, made some tapes it was great fun full of belly laughs even recieved a brief mention in the Telegraph Just a couple of kids, played a couple of gigs and then my mates moved on but fuck if I did Obviously too late, got a copy of Cubase a lot of tunes made, now it's today I've innovated, took my inspirations in and made them into an original addition to your playlist So now I meditate about how to elevate 'cause Safe was the safety net to let me levitate
I'm picking my best fruit for you You're the one, a