Prole Art Threat takes its name and credo from a Fall song; according to Anthoney Hart, who produces grime under the name East Man, the title is “a reflection of working-class creativity and how the establishment marginalize us and (perhaps on a subconscious level) see us as a threat.” To that end, he works with others to build an autonomous zone, inaccessible to the powers that be. Bare spaces and micro drum hits form its otherworldly terrain. Spend time with it, and you’ll get a sense of what type of world he and his collaborators would like to see.
East Man’s futuristic approach to grime is to strip the already elemental genre to its sparse essentials. His beats jitter out of empty space, full of unpredictable decisions. Bubbling clicks and dulled drum hits permeate the album, and the BPM rarely falls below 130. Every now and then, the vaporous reflection of one voice will float over the original for fractions of a second, giving the MC another chance to be heard. When Brazilian rapper Fernando Kep features on “Ourobouros,” even though his sped-up intonations and singsong rhymes are unique, he locks right into the mix.
Three collaborators from 2018’s Red, White, & Zero—Darkos Strife, Lyrical Strally, and Eklipse—guest here, and their precise rhymes match the liquid propellant of East Man’s music. Newcomer Ny Ny falls upon the percussive orbitals of “Who Am I?” with a sense of purpose, moving deftly around a morphing structure made up of wood-paneled knocks and phasers, maintaining stability through boasts and dares: “I’m out of the box, they can’t box me in/I’m orthodox so unique it’s a sin/I walk my own path, best believe I will win.” East Man’s productions throw up constant obstacles, like bass that drops out without warning, and echoed clatters that slice through the vocal tracks. It adds drama to the performances: any rapper who can sprint through this minefield untouched is ready for whatever dystopic future awaits.
In the liner notes to Red, White, & Zero, the writer and theorist Paul Gilroy argued that for young people in London, “The scale on which life is lived has shrunk.” It’s clear that the horizon is even more limited now than when he wrote those words two years ago; it’s tough to imagine large-scale change when you’re stuck inside your own home. On Prole Art Threat, East Man and his collaborators reject the defeatism that comes from this realization. East Man’s productions are built out of sparse material, while the improvisatory zeal of his collaborators leads them to find novel ways to communicate. Together, they seem to say that change can only come from ditching what doesn’t work, while constantly searching for what does.
Buy: Rough Trade
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