If there’s one furious expression that works every time in hip-hop, particularly in British hip-hop, it’s the continual decrying of futile, facile popular culture. In some ways, the obviousness of these targets — the overpaid, the artistically insincere — can detract from the impact of the lyrics, but nothing quite hits home like raw, incensed talent verbally shitting on inferiors. A childish, impish and self-defeating exercise it may be, but boy, that’s entertainment. So when Juice Aleem rips mercilessly into the likes of Jamie Oliver and Premier League footballers on the deadly funny ‘Higher Higher’, it’s hard not to be moved, such is his vehemence and righteous disgruntlement.
Juice Aleem, with his gusto and fuego, is a shocker, a true verbal wit and one whose grasp of balance and weight in his sentences is expert. A fixation with the unjust and with righting wrongs provides the majority of inspiration here, but it is never tempered by ill-informed ranting. When, on the opening ‘First Lesson’, he attacks those less nimble of tongue than he, it is not so much as a protestation as telling-off. Something about this man screams authority, dexterity and clarity. Even the roundabout beats and chugging bass motifs are rendered moot by the precise ramblings of this masterful learning curve of a track.
Amongst all the righteousness and upstanding biblical reference, Aleem still finds time for that old staple of the hip-hop canon, the sex anthem. ‘U4Mi’, unsurprisingly, takes a distinctly more refined look at the bedroom conundrum (this is no ‘Wildflower’) and is therefore something of a curio. It does not have the satisfying grunt of male dominance so often prevalent in the form, but it does push the value of sexual respect and attempts to find beauty in the whole concept. Above all else, Aleem seeks to sideline expectation, battering existing memes even if it means softening a traditionally beefy issue.
Most impressive of all, though, is the rich description given to the protagonist in ‘The Killer’s Tears’. A solemn and wholeheartedly depressing re-telling of a story that would fit on an early Wu Tang release, the violence is illuminated by the beautiful evocations, rather than being used to provide cheap shocks. With deeper analysis comes deeper appreciation, and lines like "silently he moved, though his sword was heard to roar," are weighty enough to ensnare even the most casual of listeners. Crucially, the lyrics work off the record as well as on — this is a story worth hearing even if one can’t stomach the beats. Time and time again, Aleem proves that his hard work and his controlled (but relentless) anger make for the most enjoyable of musical treats.
Throughout Jerusalaam Come, Juice Aleem proves that Big Dada’s current stable of hip-hop artists is among the strongest in the world, British or otherwise. For the restless, bashing rhinoceros in that stable, look no further than Juice Aleem.
