Available on: Bigger Picture LP
Kano has always, from his early days MCing on East London pirate radio (and I mean early; there are recordings of him as young as 14) been someone you can get behind. He had the perfect combination of charm and composure, and unlike some of his peers in N.A.S.T.Y Crew, he didnât need to shout his bars or brag about how big he was, he could just lean back and kill a room with his calm, meticulous flow. And the whole time, heâd do it with that tone of voice and that look in his eye that said âI know Iâm better than all of youâ.
And bar a few obvious exceptions (Dizzee; Wiley), he was, and itâs hard to resent the fact that when he had a chance to sign to a major, collaborate with people like Damon Albarn and Kate Nash and move to Essex, he took it. It meant Kano could live off music, and play to crowds heâd probably never dreamt of playing to before. And the music, all things considered, wasnât that bad â mostly because unlike say, Roll Deepâs recent number ones or Chipmunkâs âDiamond Ringsâ, it never seemed cynical. You genuinely got the impression that Kano was, in a very middle class, Guardian reader sense, trying to âadvance his craftâ. Misled, maybe, but I donât think Kano only went in this direction for the money.
Which, in a way, makes Method to the Maadness even worse. Kano spoke recently about signing to an independent label again; how it meant he had to put more of his own money into the project, but ultimately could do what he wanted with the album. And some of the decisions he takes here are staggeringly bad: âMADDâ is a empty ode to âhoodies on the back of the busâ, revolving around an unforgivably bad rock riff and an âAnother Brick in the Wallâ-esque chorus. âSpaceshipâ and âCrazyâ, produced by Chase & Status and Boys Noize respectively, are the albumâs mandatory dubstep tracks, and roll sluggishly through every clichĂ© in the genre â right down to the formerâs “irie” chorus.
Whatâs strange about Method of the Maadness is that, despite it mostly being awful, if Kano chooses the singles from it well, he could not only be very successful this year, but appeal to various corners of the pop market. âUpsideâ, released last month is no masterpiece, but itâs the sort of jumpy, vintage-clothed pop song that could have easily soundtracked summer for Florence loving festival goers. âGet Wildâ, produced by Boys Noize, is heavily filtered battle rap with a catchy chorus and a Wiley guest appearance that could go far.
But the real gem here is âAll + All Togetherâ, produced by and featuring Hot Chip. Musically, itâs very similar to a slowed down of Hard House Bantonâs âReignâ, with crunching drums and vocal samples gasping for breath. Hot Chip take the chorus, while Kano gives easily his best performance of the album, spilling out memories of his early days in music (âup on the stage at Palace Pavillion / âBoys Luv Girlsâ, I bust my new riddim / We were just friends to the death / Shared one pound, one pad, one penâ). Is the subject grime, N.A.S.T.Y Crew or simply a time when music was simpler for Kano? Who knows, but itâs easily the albumâs most effecting track, and a reminder of how good this LP could be.
But, these are flickering lights in an album that overall, is disjointed, vacuous and empty. On its closer, âDark Daysâ, Kano bemoans the way that grime had to compromise to become successful (âwhole new culture / but it went from art, to the hearts, now itâs brokenâ), spelling out each syllable as if heâs saying something deeply important, but thereâs no gravitas to it â not when itâs immediately followed by a chorus that sounds like an outtake from a Killers album. Itâs the final appearance of a problem that crops up throughout Method to the Madness, Kano trying â with his intonation, with the production â to sound desperately like heâs saying something, when there’s really nothing behind his words.
Tom Lea
Get Wild is a HEAVY tune!