On his first proper LP, Dizzee Rascal claimed, "If I had the guts to end it all, believe I would," and would go on to say that In Utero is his favorite album of all-time, but I think it's safe to say that was an artistic judgment call as opposed to an endorsement of a particular career path. Dizzee's embrace of success and fame has directly coincided with his actual accrual of both, and if Maths + English tentatively sought to establish him as a globetrotting good-life playboy, Tongue N' Cheek takes that guise to its logical extreme.
At first glance, Tongue N' Cheek would appear to be Dizzee's slightest work-- 11 tracks, about 40 minutes, self-released, silly title, sillier cover. Not to mention the combination of producer one-offs (go ahead and find another album with both Shy FX and Tiësto), been-around-the-block singles, and "did they clear that?" samples that could make it come off like a placeholding mixtape. But whatever romantic vision one might have of his days of ringtone-influenced scavenger sounds, you can't forget that his work on Basement Jaxx's "Lucky Star" remains every bit of a high point in his early career: He sounds damn good over trashy, flashy electro that manages to keep pace with cadences as hyperactive as his own, and, above all, he's way more fun than he's often given credit for.
"Bonkers" exhibits a deferential Dizzee offering a single, cyclical verse to serve as backdrop for Armand Van Helden's wildly distorted bass rips and drum rolls. "Road Rage" achieves a similar success-- despite the easy read that some form of mental illness informs the first two tracks on Tongue, they come off more like a celebration of instability. Tempo is key, though-- when saddled with Calvin Harris' straight-laced H&M disco, one feels more inclined to wiggle into a pair of designer jeans than to shake one's ass (see "Dance Wiv Me", "Holiday").
What makes Dizzee such a pleasure to hear is not so much his rhymes that continue to be a selling point, so much as his point of view, which still manages to convey a down-to-earth wisdom. "Can't Tek No More" and "Dirtee Cash" might be initially notable for their source material (Aswad and the Adventures of Stevie V, respectively), but even as Dizzee threatens to get too vague with the big picture, he always finds a way to stay grounded-- on the former, he empathizes with a blueballed boomerang kid taking strange club pills to counter the numbing effect of living with his parents, while the latter comes off like a hi-NRG advert for fiscal responsibility. Call it contradictory that "Dirtee Cash" is immediately followed by "Money, Money", but even that sounds kinda reasonable as far as straight-up baller lyrics go: Dizzee boasts about having a mortgage before he turned 22, which naturally rhymes with "blowing me like a didgeridoo."
For all its strengths, Maths + English tended to fare most poorly when Dizzee tried to meet other, barely related stars (Lily Allen, UGK) on their own terms. He's every bit as self-sufficient as he was Boy in Da Corner, but at this point, he's nowhere near as lonely. Or at least not trying to be-- it's hard to call self-explanatory party rhymes like "Dance Wiv Me" and "Freaky Freaky" morally praiseworthy (sample lyric: "spray in her mouth and watch her kiss boyfriend"), but it's in the same vein as the pungent horndogging of Showtime's "Girls", in that viewing women as objects of desire instead of predatory succubi can be something along the lines of progress.
Which makes "Chillin Wiv Da Man Dem" something of a departure. Musically, a sample of the Floaters' coke-hazed "Float On" skirts the cheeseball soul style of Operation: Doomsday (in a good way), but it's a homebound tribute to the simple pleasures of male companionship. It's actually kinda quaint that he can still kick a verse about the politics of Pro Evolution Soccer etiquette and all-night bull sessions, even if the track itself needlessly ends with "fuck these bitches, I'm keepin' it real."
Amongst other things, "Leisure" is a catch-all boast about Dizzee's natural charisma, an ability to see beyond armchair moralizing and taking other rappers to task for being unable to do the same. But as he repeats, "I make it look easy," it might just be a riposte to those who might see Tongue N' Cheek as a minor inclusion in his catalog, a quickie that won't make year-end lists like Boy and Showtime or break new ground for him as a cultural polymath like Maths + English. Yet if this is the kind of album he can effortlessly churn out at his leisure, we're in for a promising second decade of the man's work.
