22 Britain The EconomistDecember 14th 2019
“S
o right nowjust let me talk / And tell
you lot it’s grim up north,” raps Blazer
Boccle in his thick Bradford burr. The win-
dow of his makeshift bedroom recording
studio looks out over the Holme Wood es-
tate. Horses—which belong to the “Char-
vas”, Bradford’s settled traveller communi-
ty—roam the streets like dogs. “This is our
culture. It’s like London rappers showing
high-rise flats in their videos,” says Blazer.
“We don’t have that. Round here it’s like
kids driving around with shotguns on flip-
pin’ horses.”
Grime, a genre of hip-hop known for its
rapid breakbeats, emerged in east London
in the early 2000s. Its biggest stars, includ-
ing Stormzy, still hail from the capital. Yet
grime is now a national soundtrack. Online
commenters poke fun at white youths in
Blackpool or Wigan for appropriating the
culture of black Londoners, but these rap-
pers are a source of intense local pride.
The scenes have much in common,
sharing roots in deprivation. Since the de-
cline of its woollen industry, Bradford has
lacked jobs. West Yorkshire has the highest
rate of violent crime in England. Grime is
something to latch onto. Teenagers congre-
gate in the city’s bus terminal, says Blazer.
“Everybody sits at the back and spits bars
and shares them on Bluetooth.” Without
grime, “we have two options: break our
backs for ever in a warehouse, or sell drugs
and go to jail. We want to make music an
option for other Bradford people, like it is
in London.”
As in London, critics argue that grimemeans crime. Grime lyrics, with their bleak
social realism, sometimes spill into out-
right provocation. In September Asco, a
rapper from Gillingham, was jailed for 12
years for drug-dealing. Other provincial
rappers argue they are merely reflecting
society back to itself.
Yet northern grime is distinctively
northern. One of Blazer’s tracks, “Local”,
translates London slang into its northern
equivalent. “Everybody says they trap, but
here up north yeah we do rounds,” he raps,
referring to drug-dealing. Many grime art-
ists want to defend their home towns.
“People just have a made-up image of Der-
by,” says mc Eyez. “They think it’s just
farms and trees. I have to let the music
speak, so they hear it and say, ‘Okay, there’s
a lot of crime and multiculturalism up
there’.” mcssee themselves as representa-
tives. As Eyez raps: “Man know that I put
Darbz on the atlas.”
Others emphasise their city’s diversity,
hoping to debunk stereotypes about the
anti-immigrant attitudes of northern Brex-
iteers. “I want people to respect Leicester’s
identity as an example of how multicultur-
alism can work,” says Kamakaze, a white
rapper from one of Britain’s most diverse
cities. “White man will never know what
the underhand is / I mean look what our
country was built on,” he raps. In Bradford,
which experienced race riots in 2001, Blaz-
er argues that grime is bringing people to-
gether. “What overrides race is the class
system. We’re all lower class.”
Many have ambitions that reach far be-
yond their bedroom recording studios.
Stormzy’s vocal support for Jeremy Corbyn
helped push young voters towards Labour
in 2017. Some of his northern peers are just
as political. “I’m not saying I’m going to be
the mpfor Leicester,” Kamakaze admits,
“but politics is definitely a future for cer-
tain rappers.” Haze de Martian, another
Bradford mc, laughs: “I don’t think Stormzy
would do a bad job.” 7BRADFORD
How rap is helping the left-behindMusicIt’s grime, up north
Pony and t’ rapoffered Chinese citizenship and a new
Hong Kong passport, while those who had
been born in Hong Kong were also given
the chance to apply for “British National
(Overseas)” status. bnopassports, whose
burgundy cover and golden coat of arms
make them look like the ordinary British
sort, give holders the right to British consu-
lar assistance abroad (though not in Chi-
na), as well as the right to apply for certain
restricted jobs in the British civil service
and armed forces. But they provide no
automatic right to live or work in Britain.
After six months of increasingly violent
anti-government protests, and amid fears
of a crackdown by the Chinese authorities,
many in Hong Kong are considering their
escape routes. More people are renewing
their bnopassports. The number of hold-
ers rose from about 180,000 in December
2018 to 250,000 the following October. Yet
without the right of abode, the document
gives less protection than would, say, an
Australian or Canadian passport.
bnopassport holders are therefore urg-
ing Britain to extend their rights. Craig
Choy, a lawyer and campaigner on bno
matters, says that letting in these British
nationals would be a good way for the
country to demonstrate its vaunted global
openness after Brexit. Yet the government
insists that to offer the right of abode to
bnos would breach the Sino-British Joint
Declaration, the treaty which outlines how
Hong Kong should be run. (bnocampaign-
ers retort that citizenship is mentioned
only in a memorandum tacked on to the
end, not in the main document.)
Unsurprisingly, the issue did not fea-
ture much in Britain’s election—except in
Esher and Walton, the foreign secretary’s
constituency, where Hong Kong activists
urged voters to back the Liberal Democrats,
who promise more bnorights. Polls sug-
gest Britons would be open to the idea of
admitting their fellow nationals. Yet for
now, Hong Kongers joke that bnoreally
stands for “Britain says No”. 7Empire state of mind2