Peak Times #2

For a genre almost criminalised out of existence, UK drill is proving to have remarkable staying power. In eight short years, the crew-led, Chicago-indebted era of early 150 and 67 has led to the deafening buzz of solo stars like Central Cee, who can turn down six-figure record deals while their debut album(s) fly up the charts. Presumably they’re also taking pride in this decidedly British style influencing rap scenes in Australia, Brooklyn and beyond. South London’s DJ Bempah has seen this all unfold from the eye of the storm. He cut his teeth on Radar Radio, toured Europe as 67’s official DJ, interviewed the late, great Pop Smoke on his bi-weekly NTS show Scary Things, and even released a mix via limited cassette run. His journey so far mirrors UK drills’ story from commercial darkhorse to critical darling. ‘Instrumental drill’ might be the next chapter. Bok Bok’s Rinse FM show (and new label AP Life) adds to the boundary-blurring movements of DJs and producers like Oblig, Nammy Wams, Ill Blu and Ikonika. He builds things up with an experimental edge for the first hour and a half, before Bempah plays it straight with a stream of uninterrupted vocal bangers, which acts as a blood-letting release.

It’s the year 2013. Paul Woolford’s Special Request project is redlining speakers. Tessela’s ‘Hackney Parrot’ has ravers climbing up walls like Jeff Hardy. And Four Tet’s deconstructed jungle album boasts a track titled ‘Kool FM’. Breakbeats had become the sound du jour, but the media wave completely ignored the scenes still using amens in their most sincere form. Fast forward to the present day, and jungle and drum & bass is moving under its own considerable weight, and has been for a while. Kool London resident Dark Pheonix is seizing the opportunity with both decks. This earth-shattering entry in Mixmag’s The Lab series is her second high profile mix in the past three months, following a similarly chaotic affair for Black Junglist Alliance in December. Over the course of an hour, Dark Pheonix adopts a scorched earth policy, rolling out bomb after bomb of vibesey ragga and vicious tear-out with a devilish grin. It’s a euphoric campaign of shock and awe, guaranteed to level dancefloors and keep your head nodding, and you can tell she relished every second of it.

NKC & DJ Polo’s SWU.FM show is Bristol’s central sorting house for all things funky and funky-adjacent. Both men are involved behind the scenes with the Even The Strong and Club Djembe labels respectively, and their show features regular guest mixes from producers/DJ’s across the multi-layered modern day scene, spotlighting established names and Bandcamp upstarts in equal measure. The DRMZU collective falls into both these camps. Funkysmith has been a stalwart of London’s house and garage scene since the late ‘90s. In recent years his sounds shifted towards the Afrohouse end of funky, culminating in the launch of the DRMZU label last summer. The 45-minute showcase (which starts at 46 minutes in) is a shimmering, sensual mix of DRMZU’s output and future releases. Funkysmith’s mixing is languid and energetic in all the right places, and tracks from Kaang, Naycha, Rubin Storm, Sanaa, and Funkos Smithos himself are bursting with vibes, sounding like a hidden pleasure palace in a tropical rainforest. 

As the DJ in N.A.S.T.Y. Crew’s legendary line up, Mak 10 shined as bright as any of its MC’s without ever touching mic. Put on his hour long mix for FOLD’s livestream series The Lift and you’ll easily see why. Using an encyclopaedic knowledge of golden age grime and enough skills to pay several DJ’s bills, the pioneering East London selector manhandles dubplates from Jammer, Alias, Wiley, Jon E Cash, Tubby T, Waifa and more. He treats their tracks the way MC’s treat verse length in a twenty man set, cueing one up the moment he takes one off. Beats get the floor for 8-16 bars before he’s bringing in another. As a vehicle for MCs, grime swam deeper into the mainstream than any of it’s architects dared to dream. But listen to Mak 10 navigate its choppy instrumental waters – as rhythmic and funky as they are harsh and industrial – and it’s hard not to hear grime as Black Britain’s answer to techno. 20 years later, it still sounds like the future.