WHO THE FUCK IS QUALIFIED?
A friend comments, “the stuff that galvanises me nowadays I increasingly don’t feel qualified to write about”.
A student expresses surprise I should even be aware of Nadia Rose (let alone like her music). I respond that, fuck man I was writing about female grime in the U.K. at least five years ago (I ain’t denying that it might not have been called grime back then), and just cos I got a MONSTER beard and a bad back and live in S-U-B-U-R-B-I-A and ain’t written about shit for ages now don’t mean that I still don’t have no ears.
I mean, shit man.
It’s the buzz.
First wrote about Lady Leshurr six years back. Ain’t a competition man but don’t go calling me out just cos I’m an ancient. (Which. I. Am.)
My friend comments, “like who would give a shit what i have to say about that”. I write back, and say that’s the point. That’s the whole point. I ain’t qualified and she ain’t qualified but… wait a fucking second WHO THE FUCK IS QUALIFIED? someone who gets paid fuck that shit… Anyways, if you know you’re not qualified it liberates you to write what the fuck you want again. See also, the fact I know NO ONE gives a shit what I have to say about anything any more.
That’s to the good. That’s liberation.
Like I don’t understand freestyle? Like I can’t dig and groove to rhythms and shake my head Like I can’t appreciate attitude. Like I can’t do this.
My friend writes, “THIS is what is exciting in British music right now and it has NOTHING to do with us.” I say, don’t be so sure. Don’t be so fucken sure.
Silence is a rhythm too.