Shogun – Katana
Let’s be honest, grime (rightfully or wrongly) has a bit of a bad rep for not excelling in the art of insightful lyricism, not in the way that its predecessor genre hip-hop ever did anyway. In spite of that, what grime aims to push above all else is flows and the voice as a unique identifier.
Paisley rapper Shogun perhaps marks himself out for the simple fact that his Glaswegian accent is something rarely heard in the genre, and given the fact that the wider world is only just getting used to hearing regional accents on a beat, his astronomically-fast and air-tight up-north vernacular seems like it’s beamed down from another planet. Like Death Grips' MC Ride, Shogun's voice becomes an instrument which adds to the ice cold orchestra of trap beats, which here on his debut EP Katana, merely serve as floating platforms to provide footing for his impressive ninja-like swordsmanship.
However, that particular swordsmanship is like watching a frenzied bloodbath, fuelled by erratic anger – you never quite know where the blade is going to land next. It’s less of a dance and more of a murder on the beat. Anguished release that kicks up dust on a cliff’s edge, you feel nervous for yourself as much as you do for the one performing the acrobatics. The beat for Friday has a twisted air of lo-fi, alt-hip-hop, which compliments Shogun’s flow and allows more room for the closest thing we have to a hook to shine through.
The relentless attack of his bars can leave the listener very weary (with only the rather lush instrumental track Myth providing light release), but you feel that this is the sound of a warrior in training mode, sharpening their sword and making a hell of a lot of noise so their future enemies best beware: 'If you hate me it’s mutual / the sound of your body hitting the ground would be beautiful'.
By the time you reach the final track, Vulcan, it’s like the caterpillar has emerged from the proverbial chrysalis and in a (presumably) liquor-soaked freestyle (bottles can be heard clanging in the background as babies cry and the street’s air swells with compression), Shogun appears as a fully lucid lyricist, lamenting loss, pain and tragedy. A worthy student of the recently deceased Albert Johnson of Mobb Deep, Shogun is a force to be reckoned with for sure.
Listen to: Friday, Vulcan