Gangsta Rap

by Benjamin Zephaniah

  No one could argue with that.

  ‘OK,’ said Marga Man. ‘We done wid dat now. Now let’s deal wid some good news. De record company doesn’t want to wait for two years before de next album. On de strength of all de pre-sales and sales to date, dem want to tek up de option for de next album straightaway.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ray. ‘We’ve started work on that already.’

  ‘And there’s even more good news,’ said Marga Man, producing another one of his big smiles. ‘I am proud to announce dat Positive Negatives have been nominated for four MOBO Awards.’

  The boys flew up off their seats in celebration. They touched fists, slapped palms and touched shoulders. Bunny danced around the room and Marga Man looked on like a proud father.

  ‘Best Newcomer, Best Album, Best Hip-Hop Act and Best Video,’ he said, smiling contentedly.

  The next day Marga Man took them to Newham Parkside Hospital to see the stabbed teenager. When they arrived at his bedside his sister and father were already there, and made it clear to the band that they did not blame them for what happened. The teenager’s name was Thomas, but he was known as Fingers. He described himself as a hardcore Positive Negatives fan. He knew every word on the album and had read everything published about the band. His stab wound was deep but luckily no vital organs were damaged. He was due to go home the next day but said happily, ‘I’d stay longer if it meant that you guys would visit me again.’

  He explained that he had been hanging around waiting for an autograph and taking photos when the fight started, and a couple of boys went for him and one of them stabbed him. ‘That’s all that happened,’ he said. ‘The police keep asking me for more, but that’s all I know.’

  The boys thought that Fingers had the hip-hop spirit about him, unsentimental and uncompromising; they all got on well together.

  ‘I want to thank you for coming, makes me feel good.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Ray.

  ‘I wanna ask you something.’

  ‘Do it,’ said Prem.

  ‘Why haven’t you guys got a website?’

  They all looked at each other cluelessly.

  ‘It looks like we don’t know,’ said Ray.

  ‘When I get free can I build one for you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ray replied.

  ‘Cool.’

  Marga Man took Fingers’s phone number, then they left him with a signed limited edition copy of the CD, and told him to check out the MOBO Awards on television.

  A week later and there they were, all dressed in expensive threads, and chilling out in the Al-Fayed Hotel. The ceremony was being hosted by the American soul singer Matt Cliff and the British radio DJ Miss Issy.

  As the show was about to start, Ray looked around. All around him he saw faces that he had only previously seen on television. Everything in the room seemed to glitter: the chandeliers, the windows, the walls, the food, even the people. The band’s two newly acquired bodyguards sat quietly at the table. Dressed in black suits and wearing sunglasses, they looked like saxophone players from a jazz band.

  Ray sat in between Tyrone and Prem. He put his arms around their necks and drew them to him and said, ‘Just think, if we’d walked in this place last year, we would have been kicked out.’

  ‘You mean arrested,’ Tyrone said.

  ‘Or given a cleaning job,’ Prem added.

  The show was about to start. The television cameras began to roll and a bodiless voice came from the ceiling.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the MOBO Awards. Please welcome on stage your hosts for the night, all the way from the USA, the soul man himself, Matt Cliff, and your very own superwoman Miss Issy.’

  The soul man entered stage left wearing a bright red suit that was a couple of sizes too big for him, and Miss Issy entered stage right wearing very little. The men in the audience whistled and cheered as she strode on stage in what looked like a green bra and a matching belt.

  Together they introduced the guests to give awards to the winners. The guests comprised of actors who were trying to keep up their public profile, former pop stars, sports people and game show hosts. Categories included the best R’n’B band, best soul band and best reggae act, plus their respective videos. As the awards were being given out, the competing artists would look at each other and smile, sometimes wishing each other the best, whilst secretly hoping that they would drop dead. This was repeated throughout the evening, as was the ritual of accepting the awards. The winners would take to the stage and repeat the same words over and over again, only changing the order.

  ‘I really wasn’t expecting this.

  I would like to thank my manager,

  and my mum,

  I want to thank my record company for having

  faith in me.

  I want to big up my crew,

  I want to thank God.

  But most of all I want to thank you the fans, because without you I wouldn’t be here.’

  Which oddly always seemed to go down well, considering that the audience consisted mainly of other nominees and invited VIPs. Very few fans were actually present. Ray noticed this. He leaned over his table.

  ‘Hey Marga Man, so where are the fans?’

  Marga Man pointed to the camera. ‘At home.’

  After the lifetime achievement award was given out, Miss Issy went on stage to introduce another guest.

  ‘Now it gives me great pleasure to welcome on stage an actor who just goes from strength to strength. His talent knows no end, he’s everybody’s friend – it’s Kenny Morgan.’

  Kenny Morgan walked on stage holding an envelope. He told a joke and people laughed, then he began to list the nominees for the next award.

  ‘The nominees for the Best Newcomer Awards are: The Full Force Crew, Tony Manchester, Legal Eyes, Sharon Easy and Positive Negatives.’

  He opened the envelope.

  ‘And the award goes to … Positive Negatives.’

  The crowd clapped and the boys headed up to the stage with the two bodyguards following them. The nearer they got to the stage the louder the crowd got, but once on the stage they couldn’t help but notice some rather stony faces looking up at them from the Western Alliance table. They were not clapping.

  The award itself was a plastic representation of the word MOBO. Ray took the award from Miss Issy and then the boys all took the opportunity to kiss her on both cheeks.

  Tyrone put his head to the microphone. ‘Marga Man, this is for you, and you too Sam.’

  Prem put his head to the microphone. ‘Mum, this is for you.’

  Ray put his head to the microphone. ‘Hey you, this is for me.’

  There were cheers and laughter from the crowd, and the boys began to walk back to their table to more applause.

  Next the best album category was announced; again the band were nominated alongside Sharon Easy, Love Lite and the Western Alliance. Once again Positive Negatives won. But the most important award as far as the band were concerned was the award for the best hip-hop act. The nominees for this category were Positive Negatives, a band from Birmingham called Roots Culture, a black Irish rapper called Fhil the Flow, Little Sista, and the Western Alliance.

  Matt Cliff invited supermodel Lulu Obeng on stage to announce the winner, and the award went to Positive Negatives. The band casually went back to the stage with their bodyguards in tow. This time Prem took the award, but only Ray spoke.

  ‘First of all I wanna say to Fingers over there in Parkside, we’re with you, brother, you supported us and we’re supporting you. Get well soon man, and stay on the beat. Also I wanna say that all music is good, I wanna say to my sister Kori that Beyoncé is cool, all music is cool, and we all just finding musical ways to express ourselves. My man Marga Man just told me that MOBO stands for music of black origin, but I say that all music has black origins, life has black origins, but at the same time music is colour-free.’

  The crowd clapped and shouted words of agreement; many rose to their feet. Ray c
ontinued.

  ‘Now we, Positive Negatives, are accepting this award for the best hip-hop act, but I gotta tell you that we are not a hip-hop act, we don’t act, we are hip-hop, we live and breathe hip-hop. This is true, we are the real deal.’

  Just then there was an interruption. A voice shouted from the audience, ‘You ain’t hip-hop, you just puppy dogs.’

  Everyone turned to see where the voice came from. It was from the table of the Western Alliance. They were laughing and congratulating the speaker. The speaker stood up and Ray could tell straightaway that it was Dragon, the front man of the Western Alliance.

  Ray continued, ‘Puppy dogs bark and run away. We don’t run, we represent ourselves, we say hip-hop is about being upfront. What do you say?’

  ‘We say you’re pussy cats,’ shouted Dragon.

  ‘Hey what, you jealous?’ shouted Ray, looking directly at Dragon.

  ‘You baby rappers, why should we be jealous of you?’ Dragon said, cupping his hands and doing a swinging motion as if rocking a baby.

  The crowd reacted with a mixture of laughter and whispering as they tried to understand what was happening. Remembering that this was being recorded for television, Miss Issy tried to regain some order. ‘OK lads, let’s all be friends. It’s only an awards ceremony.’

  Prem held the award high over his head, Tyrone didn’t take his eyes off the Western Alliance table and Ray shouted, ‘This is us, this is hip-hop, and right now no one can touch us.’

  As the boys walked back to their table another member of the Alliance shouted, ‘We can touch you, and don’t be worried, children, you will be touched.’

  As the other awards were being handed out, the Western Alliance members and the Positive Negatives table kept a close eye on each other. Then the nominations for the best video were announced. They included both the Western Alliance and Positive Negatives. A distinguished newsreader was brought on stage to announce the winner.

  ‘And the winner is,’ she said slowly, ‘the Western Alliance.’

  Four members of the Western Alliance went to the stage, led by Dragon, who took the award without any hand-shaking. With his free hand he took the microphone from its stand and put it to his mouth.

  ‘I ain’t gonna say too much, just wanna let people know that we are the Western Alliance. Maybe we ain’t picking up loads of awards but then again we don’t go around running our mouths like some nursery rhymers in the area. You see we stay true to the music, but if anyone crosses us, we deal with them. Remember we are the Western Alliance.’

  The applause was nervous and muted. The two camps kept a watch on each other for the rest of the proceedings; everybody could feel the tension between them. The night ended with a live performance by Sharon Easy who managed to get everyone on their feet and clapping their hands to her up-beat R’n’B songs. As she sang, Marga Man suggested that they slip away. But Dragon and other members of the Western Alliance were waiting outside.

  ‘Go home babies, it’s your bedtime,’ shouted one of them.

  ‘Keep walking and never mind dem,’ said Marga Man.

  Their bodyguards stiffened up and prepared themselves for trouble. They had turned away and headed in the direction of the hotel car park when a plastic water bottle hit Tyrone on the head. Ray couldn’t take it any more and he turned to face them.

  ‘Come on then, who first?’

  About five of the Western Alliance moved forward to volunteer themselves.

  ‘Come on,’ shouted Ray.

  ‘No problem baby,’ said Dragon.

  ‘You’re gonna get some,’ shouted another voice from the Alliance.

  Marga Man stepped in front of Ray to calm him down, and the bodyguard stepped in between Marga Man and the Alliance.

  ‘OK, next time baby,’ shouted Dragon.

  ‘Yeah, next time,’ shouted Ray.

  Chapter 13

  Negative Positives

  The awards ceremony was transmitted on Channel Four the next night and very little was edited out of the programme. News about the event had made it into some of the morning papers so the programme got top ratings. On the streets of east London the band were becoming even bigger heroes. Fans thought the music was great, but many gave the band even more respect for standing up to the west Londoners who outnumbered them and were older than them.

  The controversy pushed up CD sales for both bands, and for one week the Western Alliance’s album ‘Mass Distraction’ overtook Positive Negatives – but it was not to last. The success of the ‘War Cry’ single and their appearance on Top of the Pops and other TV programmes gave Positive Negatives an advantage.

  The press began to request more interviews, but the band wanted to concentrate on recording the next album. The beats were flowing easily enough, but they were finding it increasingly difficult to write raps. Ray had told the others that they had to try not to simply repeat the sentiments of the first album. He knew that second albums were always difficult. They had crammed their lives’ experience into the first album, and now they had to fill another album having experienced very little new except fame.

  One morning after a late session in the studio, Ray received a call on his mobile phone. He was still in bed and sleeping when the phone rang. He picked it up, pressed the answer button and put it to his ear without opening his eyes.

  ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘It’s me, Prem. Did you hear what happened last night?’

  ‘No, what happened?’

  ‘A guy got shot, man, right in the head, right in front of everyone. A west London guy.’

  ‘That’s bad man. Where that happen?’

  Prem was speaking very fast. ‘Happened in the Alleyway Club in the West End.’

  ‘That’s bad man,’ said Ray, his eyes still closed.

  ‘Things are getting rough, there’s pure friction out here.’

  ‘Yeah, guy. Let’s talk later.’

  Ray went back to sleep but then ten minutes later the phone rang again. This time it was Tyrone.

  ‘Ray, it’s me.’

  ‘Yeah, what?’

  ‘Did you hear what happened?’

  ‘Yeah, I heard what happened. Call me back later, I’m tired.’

  ‘You can’t sleep now. Someone’s dead.’

  Tyrone was sounding very agitated, there was an urgency in his voice. Ray tried to cool him down. ‘OK, someone got shot. It’s bad but let’s just talk about it later.’

  ‘We can’t just leave it till later. The press are trying to find us right now.’

  ‘What they want us for? It’s got nothing to do with us, we wasn’t there.’

  ‘Don’t you know? They’re saying it’s an east London versus west London thing. They’re saying it’s like some Western Alliance fans and some Positive Negatives fans started arguing, and then an East Ender shot a West Ender.’

  Ray sat up in bed. ‘Are you serious?’ he asked, eyes now wide open.

  ‘Very serious.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ray. ‘I’ll ring Marga Man.’ Ray put the phone down and got out of bed, but before he had time to do anything the phone rang again. He picked it up.

  ‘Hello.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Hello?’

  Then a voice slowly uttered, ‘This is war.’ And the phone went dead.

  Ray rang Marga Man immediately.

  ‘Marga Man, what’s happening?’

  Marga Man’s voice was calm and reassuring. ‘If any newspaper people find you, don’t speak to dem, don’t talk to anybody about anyting. Tell your family not to say anyting. Just come to de music shop now.’

  Ray washed and dressed at breakneck speed and ran all the way to the music shop where Prem, Tyrone and Marga Man were already in conversation. Ray joined straight in. ‘What’s it all about, what’s going on?’

  ‘This is what I heard,’ said Tyrone, already sounding as if he had told the story a hundred times before. ‘DJ Rapcity and Ali Fire were playing at the Alleyway Club and some guy ge
ts on Ali Fire’s microphone and starts to run down the east London crew, saying that east London people this and that, and then him start say that Positive Negatives is rubbish and we only win MOBOs because we go on Top of the Pops. So then Omar, you know Omar?’

  Ray looked at everyone. ‘Who’s Omar?’

  ‘De brother always come in de music shop, always wear some type of bowler hat ting,’ said Marga Man.

  ‘You know him,’ said Prem, ‘Red Eye Omar.’

  ‘Oh yeah, Red Eye.’

  ‘Yeah, him,’ Tyrone continued. ‘Well, he gets on Rapcity’s mic and starts to run down the west London crew. I heard that he cursed them bad, and tell them that no west London man can rap. Anyway, I don’t know everything that happened, but I heard that the DJs and the management get everyone to cool down and then when people start to leave the club some east London and west London man start a fight and one of the east man shoot a west man.’

  ‘So did anyone get locked up?’ asked Ray.

  ‘I heard that they arrested Red Eye at home early this morning,’ said Tyrone. ‘But then they let him go because he had already gone when it happened and no witnesses described him.’

  ‘OK,’ said Marga Man. ‘All we have to do is stay cool, don’t go chatting to people and keep working. We have to focus on de music and nothing else.’

  ‘Yeah, I wanna focus on the music too,’ said Ray. ‘But how we gonna focus on the music when all this is going on? And this morning somebody ring me on my mobile and tell me that this is war.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Prem.

  ‘And me,’ said Tyrone.

  ‘And me too,’ said Marga Man. ‘Dis could be anyone, dis could just be people trying to scare us. We have to be on our guard, but we can’t stop working.’

  Ray stood up and began to pace around the shop. ‘You’re right Marga Man. We got to keep it positive, got to keep it hip-hop.’

  Just as Ray was speaking, there was a loud noise at the back of the shop, followed by the sound of people moving towards them. Then the front door was kicked in and what seemed like hundreds of policemen came through the door shouting ‘Police’ and waving their truncheons around. Marga Man was the first to be grabbed, quickly followed by the others.