Hawnay Troof - Islands Of Ayle (Southern)
4/5
By: Liam Manley
Sometimes we can't escape our false memories. Many of my generation may lay claim to a childhood steeped in NWA, Public Enemy or (if they're a particularly brave fabricator) Eric B & Rakim. For some, this lie has developed, over time, into fact.
Truth be told, the majority experienced their rhyme epiphany sometime around the middle-eight of New Order's 'World In Motion'. Even now, as John Barnes relays the Keith Allen-penned instructions to 'hold and give/but do it at the right time', I can't help but be reminded of Peter Hook's claim that Barnes was merely one of several England players auditioned.
If Hooky is to be believed, there still to this day exists a tape of the tragically misshapen Peter Beardsley's attempt to rock the mic. Frankly, the mere thought of a mild-mannered Geordie born with a broken jaw and too-big-tongue spitting 'we ain't no hooligans/this ain't a football song' fills me with all sorts of intrigue. So much so that any suggestion of a New Order rarities collection would be rendered trivial should it fail to include this gem.
Faux-nostalgia and ask-yer-dad reportage aside, let's talk about real epiphanies. Realisation #1: Hawnay Troof (AKA Vice Cooler) is possibly one of the worst MCs ever. Realisation #2: No, he really is. Realisation #3: For all his failings as an MC, much like a white-boy block-party bumble-bee he still manages to take flight. How so?
Currently based in Oakland, California, his stints as a warm-up act for Deerhoof, Lightning Bolt and The Gossip have seen Cooler gain a low level of marmite-like notoriety: a self-styled party starter, his 'Guerrilla-style' performances appear to have split audiences, with the received wisdom veering from 'f**king rad!' to 'what is this sh!t!?!?'. Judging from Islands Of Ayle, you'd be hard-pressed not to sympathise with either side.
When 'Suspension and Conclusion/Finale' opens proceedings, its foreboding choral harmonies co-mingled with fax-machine squall, piano-thud and repeated vocal samples throw an immediate curveball. Once its 60 seconds of UNKLE-ish gloom are over, you're half expecting James Lavelle to pop up and push a big button labelled 'Bring The Drums'. What follows instead is Pinky & Perky lullabying as Commodore 64 FX ping-pong, speaker-to-speaker, while Cooler mixes confused braggadocio and weak-as-piss cod-philosophy into his formless flow.
So the record continues, melding $3 Casio keyboards, dial tones, cartoonish cut-ups, ricochet beats and bleeps and what could well be a 15 cassette box-set of Happy Hardcore. Far from simple collage or cut-and-shut sampling, the sophistication of the sequencing and arrangement are perfectly presented. It's this attention to detail that make the hooks of 'Connection' or B-More-esque booty-blast of 'Venus Venus Piper' that much punchier and vital. However, the margin between success and failure is slim, as the monotonous 'Water' musters little more than hyper-annoyance
Disregarding the typical but not essential convention of rhyme, Hanway Troof also eschews any sense of word-play, preferring instead to let line after inept line tumble forth from his sloppy mouth. As recent releases like Soul Jazz's An England Story Volume 1 and 2 show, throughout its evolution the main functions of the MC remain to be to educate, offer insight and above all entertain. While Islands of Ayle certainly fulfils the entertainment quota, there still lacks an element of lyrical substance, not to mention anything approaching metre or flow. But for the most part, Vice Cooler's skills as a sonic craftsman far outshine his hipster blathering.
Your Feedback
Login to post your comment