I've been reading about Mike Skinner, the British cockney rapper for the past year. He's got a new album called a grand don't come for free. So I figured it was time to see what all the buzz was about.
I bought the album (you have to listen to the whole album) and synched my iPod and went for a bike ride up the west side to the George Washington Bridge this morning.
In about five minutes I was nowhere near the west side of Manhattan. I was in Mike's girl's london flat roaching a spliff and sitting on the sofa watching the TV with his girl.
All great art does this. It takes you to another place and you can feel what it's like to be there.
But there's more. There's this whole thing going on throughout the record with Mike's need for a thousand pounds. And there's also this hilarious stuff about his TV that doesn't work. In the end, it's all cleared up. It's a short story with each song a chapter.
This record's not for everyone. The Gotham Gal doesn't dig it. But I do. And you might too.