Can a British rap act break America?

With Krept & Konan having signed to Def Jam in America, it signals another UK rap act hoping to make their mark in the nation that birthed the genre. Despite The Long Way Home being their debut major label album (it’s been released by Virgin EMI in the UK), the duo has already garnered a growing fan base that has seen an increasing rise since their earlier Gipset days. Consequently, releasing their music in America is a sound decision given their momentum to date.

Krept & Konan present a viable act for success in America. Credibility, compounded by a harrowing backstory involving Konan, highly proficient rappers and a cross section of support in the UK amongst their fans and industry peers alike, all point towards the basis for success outside their own territory. Furthermore, the American collaborations on The Long Way Home suggest a burgeoning welcome from those American rappers who stay abreast with rap outside of their own country.

Krept & Konan aren't the first British rap act to attempt to conquer the US. However, few have had an impact on par with their American counterparts. Slick Rick, Monie Love and Derek B are exceptions but they're a minority and similar success hasn't been seen in the last 20 years.

Tinie Tempah gained some attention, largely due to Written in the Stars being picked up by WWE for Wrestlemania, but it's not close to anything achieved by Slick Rick. Similarly, Chip sought to break America under TI's Hustle Gang label but to no avail. He’s since returned to the grime scene in the UK with little impact having been made in America. Dizzee Rascal, albeit not originating from the rap scene, has had an impact in America but it's been less associated with rap and more the alternative scene that appreciates his often leftfield production and rapid, skippy flow that American rap audiences typically aren't accustomed to. On reflection, a UK rap act hasn't really made its mark on America for the best part of two decades. But with a better product typically coming from the UK in contrast to American rap, it's hard to see why.

In the early days of UK rap, it was always destined to fall short as an imitation of the US scene. Not to mention, as a relatively insular nation, Americans were (and largely still are) reluctant to embrace much that was unfamiliar. For UK rap, that meant unfamiliar accents (that perhaps didn't seem suited to rap) and unfamiliar colloquialisms and cadences. Though it could still be argued that a non-American accent still isn't wholly accepted by American audiences. Indeed, despite her commercial popularity, Australian rapper Iggy Azalea has still felt the need to don a faux southern accent in place of her own (which is more than apparent in her speaking voice). And given her popularity, she might argue it's paid off.

The unfamiliarity of British colloquialisms and vernacular could have contributed to American audiences being unable to embrace UK rap. Although looking at it from a non-American perspective, rap audiences around the world have managed to understand American rappers for decades. Many American colloquialisms have even managed to permeate the vernacular of other territories through the medium of rap. Therefore it's difficult to wholly accept this as a valid explanation. After all, hearing British vernacular from British rappers surely adds to the authenticity of what is being listened to. The same goes for the British accent that has found its voice within rap and no longer sounds awkward and out of place. Instead, it’s credible and quintessentially inner-city British.

The aforementioned insularity of many Americans also questioned the credibility of British rappers through the idea that the 'hood' only existed in America and couldn't possibly exist in the UK let alone anywhere else. Rather, many Americans erroneously thought (and many still do) we all speak the Queen's English and spend our days eating scones and drinking cups of Earl Grey with our pinky fingers at a suitably quaint angle. The idea of social deprivation, and the social ills that accompany it, existing in the UK was unthinkable to American audiences.

While it certainly isn’t something to glamourise, many American rappers and their entourages, bragging of their so-called 'hood' credentials, have toured and visited the UK and mainland Europe only to return home having found themselves involved in physical altercations and relieved of their jewellery and other possessions. And it’s been as a result of running into guys that really are from the 'hood' - and not the cinematic one that so many commercial American rappers seemingly originate from. If the street credibility of the UK and its rappers was once questioned by American audiences, it really shouldn't be now. Nonetheless, it's been an obstacle to American audiences embracing British rappers as credible acts.

There have been contemporary British rappers who have seemingly been able to address all the answers to a British rap act succeeding in America. Since Slick Rick et al, perhaps none more so than SAS. With huge street and rap credibility in the US and the UK, their success should have been a given. Their Hot 97 Special Delivery freestyle was subject to huge acclaim and subsequently they were affiliated with Rocafella and Diplomats but neither relationship ever came to fruition in the form of mainstream success . Even with widespread critical acclaim from many American rappers, it never seemed to translate into a situation that could take them to new levels of commercial success.

More recently, K Koke was signed to Roc Nation/RCA. Similarly to SAS, his street and rap credibility was undeniable and the label stuck with him even while he spent 7 months in prison on a murder charge that he was later cleared of. Alas, he was subsequently dropped from the label and his relationship with Roc Nation/RCA never came to anything by way of his debut album which is still yet to be released. Despite both acts being an A&R and marketing dream in breaking the American market, it's yet to be realised. If acts like SAS and K Koke haven't broken the American market, or at least haven't been given the platform to do so, it could be deemed questionable if other acts can.

Krept & Konan signing to Def Jam isn't a sure fire route to success in America and Def Jam isn’t the label it was during hip hop’s golden eras. Yet Krept & Konan present the attributes that a UK rap act would need to break America. Moreover, in contrast with the experiences of UK rap acts before them, the American rap scene is paying more attention to the UK rap and grime scene than ever before which is likely to bode well for their stateside endorsement. Only recently at Wireless did Drake (albeit a Canadian) bring out Skepta to perform Shutdown and French Montana featured on Krept & Konan's Don't Waste My Time as does Rick Ross on Certified.

The lack of stateside success for British rappers has been largely inexplicable of late. With broadly speaking better rappers, original content, credibility and a British swagger that most should find refreshing in contrast to the hackneyed and formulaic American approach, their success is seemingly overdue. Though as American labels and American rappers begin to pay more attention to the UK, and as the internet rapidly makes the British rap scene and its acts accessible to American audiences, it remains to be seen if the tide can finally turn for British rappers' commercial and critical acclaim in America.

The black barbershop and hairdresser experience

A few years ago, my brother-in-law got married. In the preceding days, it had been a hectic week at work for me. Travelling to different parts of the country and long hours meant getting to the barbers during the week was therefore proving near impossible. Consequently, I made a calculated risk and went against a principle that I’ve always kept. I decided to go to the barbers on a Saturday morning, the very morning of the wedding.

On the Saturday morning I woke up early, with several hours to spare before needing to depart for the wedding, and went to my barber. Others had had a similar intention and there were a small number of customers ahead of me. However, this woefully and illogically equated to hours of waiting for my respective barber (fortunately I lived locally to the barbershop and was able to return home and continue with my pre-wedding preparation before my haircut). This wasn’t due to the number of customers ahead of me, but the lackadaisical attitude of my barber.

As time passed and the shop began to fill with customers seeking an early Saturday morning haircut, there was no sense of urgency whatsoever. Haircuts would be punctuated by long pauses for jokes, animated and gesticulated conversation that didn’t permit multitasking of simultaneously cutting hair, personal calls and smoking breaks. Not to mention, the complete lack of an appointment system meant if like me you needed a haircut as a matter of urgency, you were subject to the fate of when you arrived. Fortunately I managed to get my haircut and make the wedding but I was underwhelmed to say the least.

I expect this is a story that resonates with many black men. A simple activity such as a haircut is complicated by a flawed and inefficient business model that exudes unprofessionalism. I’ll often call my barber before planning a visit to advise that I’ll be coming and to gauge how busy it is. But it’s no appointment system. I find myself strategically planning my haircuts to ensure I can be in and out within an hour – inclusive of any waiting time. Do I have a day off? Will I be able to leave work at a reasonable hour? Can I avoid a Friday and Saturday if I need a haircut for a function or event? All this for a haircut. I used to have slight envy for my non-black colleagues who, having made an appointment, or just not expecting an excessive wait because of lollygagging barbers, would often go for a haircut during their lunchbreak. In contrast, the unreliability of black barbershops would typically not present that as a viable option.

For black hairdressers, the experience is similar if not worse. Black female friends and family succumb to the fact that time is typically not an entity that is observed at the hairdressers. Indeed, when I had corn rows, my hairdresser would have no concept of time, no urgency and little professionalism. Initially, I would naively make an appointment but that wasn’t worth the paper it was written on. And given how long some black hair treatments can take, the experience at black hairdressers simply compounds how much of their time customers are expected to give up and unnecessarily so.

So why do we as the black community accept this and how has this situation managed to present itself as such a widespread feature of black barbers and hairdressers?

As black people, we have traditionally taken much pride in our appearance and have very high regard for grooming. And hair is probably at the forefront of this. Just look at old photos of post-war black immigrants arriving in the UK. Not an unkempt man or woman amongst them. Although this high regard has perhaps resulted in us accepting the aforementioned experience as a necessary obstacle to maintaining our appearance.

Within the black community, our attitude is effectively ‘if I have to wait hours and plan my day around a trip to the barbershop or hairdressers, then so be it. As long as it results in my hair looking good then that’s just the price I’ll have to pay’. It’s ridiculous and we’ve made a rod for our own back by accepting it. Furthermore, it’s now become ingrained in the experience of many within the black diaspora. Pass most black barbershops on a Saturday and they’ll be rammed. But the countenances of customers are more those of acceptance than frustration and annoyance.

There’s also our reluctance to move away from our regular establishment because of a belief that our barber or hairdresser is the best or the one that ‘knows our hair’. As a result, a good haircut in exchange for a few hours out of our schedule irrationally seems like a fair deal. And just as people are reluctant to change their bank accounts or the political party they vote for, we’re seemingly reluctant to change our barber or hairdresser. Whenever I’ve changed barbers, the decision has admittedly always been long overdue and at the expense of hours upon hours of wasted time.

Black barbershops and hairdressers are also of cultural significance. The banter, the atmosphere and a source for local going-ons are all valued features that should be enjoyed and preserved. Popular sitcom Desmond’s illustrated all the aspects of the black barbershop experience that should be celebrated. Yet the experience needs to be measured and in keeping with modern society. And that includes a drive on professionalism. In few industries would it be acceptable for someone to take or make personal calls while with a customer or interrupt their jobs because the banter meant they couldn’t multitask. My previous barbershop would also seemingly operate ad hoc hours which made it difficult to plan a trip to the barbers. On occasions, I would even find them closed despite every other shop on the high street still open for at least a few more hours. It’s actually embarrassing that there are black businesses in the form of black barbershops and hairdressers that are run like this.

I’m certainly not suggesting that black barbershops and hairdressers should imitate or reflect that of those found in other communities. I like the banter and atmosphere of the barbershop. I just want it within an environment that is befitting of modern society. That means appointments that are kept to, more professionalism and barbers who don’t take their sweet time as if their customers have nothing better to do than sit in their chair all day. People have commitments that don’t permit such a strain on their time and schedules and that needs to be reflected in how black barbershops and hairdressers are run.

There is a counter argument to appointment systems that customers, in their own tardiness, may not keep to them, thus perpetuating the situation we currently have. That says much about the black community and how we have fed the status quo ourselves. Within a modern society, a lack of an appointment system portrays us as backwards and reflects a microcosm of a community that has no regard for time.

My criticisms aren’t widespread and there are some black barbershops and hairdressers that have moved towards more professionalism and a sensible business model. Though regrettably, they’re in a minority and the black diaspora cannot continue with such a poor representation for the majority. It’s not befitting of where we are as a community and it’s embarrassing that many black barbershops and hairdressers don’t seem to see anything wrong with their representation and projections of the diaspora.

I don’t want to see the banter and atmosphere disappear from black barbershops and hairdressers but nor do I want the palaver that getting a haircut can sometimes involve. And when it’s simply because some black barbershops and hairdressers can’t bring themselves to have a professional and modern attitude in running their establishments, it doesn’t seem like a valid obstacle at all.