11

From Evans to Hell

Success is subjective. Pending on whose perspective you're viewing from, one man's success is another man's shortfall and vice versa. But regardless of the barometer with which you measure these achievements, Tommy Evans now has a clutchful of these successes in his belt. Be it 1995 and having the coveted support slot to De La Soul with Junkyard Tactics... a coup by any man's standards... or maybe pressing a series of collaborative 12"s from which Evans and co. went on to establish a serious independent hip-hop label.

This album though, should mark a new level of success for Evans. Now he'll find himself catapulted out from being 'known within his field' to having his feet firmly tucked under the table of commercial music and all of the accompanying media. And deservedly so. Not bad for a white boy from Leeds!

Hip-hop is now widely recognised as one of the largest and most powerful industries on the planet. Unlike any other industry I can think of, hip-hop is dominated by the black man. Or the black American man to be precise. Here is a scene that can actually be prejudicial against the white male. So how do the likes of Evans succeed?

By being bloody good! That's how!

Opening up the CD, you're met with pictures of Evans and his crew looking more like Che Guevara's side-kicks then the "hip-hop massive". Camouflage jackets and terrorist style head scarves, it's like a not so subtle warning - prepare yourself for the attack ahead.

And this album is an attack. Socially conscious and proudly English lyrics are thrust at you. This is guerilla "word-fare"! And Evans isn't just being controversial for the sake of it. In fact every chunk of prose is a carefully constructed and well versed argument. No wonder the likes of Neneh Cherry were queuing up to contribute to this album.

But the words alone aren't enough to carry out this attack on your senses. It is the barrage of noise that accompanies Evans' thoughts that round his overall sound off to perfection.

So old-school. Evans reminds me of the Digable Planets as they juxtapose their contemporary lyrics against jazz standards. Tommy Evans' music however is even more diverse. Drawing on various sonic delights such as beautifully picked acoustic, folk guitar to heavily distorted and heavily amplified electric guitars. From the simplest, yet oh-so effective drum beat to the most complex and articulate jazz flute. And finally some of the best, original style, straight-up scratching I've heard in years.

Hip-hop was borne from oppression. It was the voice of oppression. Made by the oppressed for the oppressed. Then suddenly there appeared to be a buck or two to make from it. And what were we left with? Rappers who have lost touch with their roots. Spend more on one item of jewellery (some naff diamond dollar-sign no doubt), than their parent's house cost. Just look at Fifty Cent. It seems to be the antithesis of itself. Hip-hop lost sight of its soul as it was slowly blinded by all the "bling". There is therefore a little touch of irony that a white boy like Evans will stir up the scene and take hip-hop back to its roots!