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Hip Hop Beats and loping grooves;
emotive Latin-styled guitar; a taut, muscular rhythm section;
fiery bursts of funked up aggression; a strong sense of melody
and dynamics; the deft touch and textures of a nifty turntablist;
short, sharp rasping raps with the occasional blast of singalong
anthemics and a strong, collective sense of identity that's
epitomised by a sussed, young frontman from Midhurst who can
convince with hard and conscious rhymes about the world inside
his head and the world outside his door, without feeling the
need to pretend that the South Coast of England is the Southside
of LA.
For all the diversity, the beats, samples
and turntables, there's a defiantly live and vibrant feel
to LDP. A band as a unit, banging out grooves, riffs and hooklines
conjured up from good old-fashioned sweat and inspiration.
This is not one of those exercises in Sampledelics, a Sketchiness
of Spain where stolen licks and rickety beats are held together
by sellotape and a dose of 2nd Hand attitude. On the contrary.
There's something solid at the core of the Lockdown collective,
a sense of who they are and where they're from that binds
the band and their far-flung influences into something that
undeniably belongs to them. Nothing token about the Latinesque
guitar, for example, which rides the beats and teases into
the spaces, stepping aside when its nasty electric brother
kicks in with a barrage of venomous distortion, but gently
eking an elegant escape route as the stormy krank of funk
subsides.
Their history's been lively too, with various
musical cohorts passing through the revolving doors as brothers
Ollie and Ben sought to build on their kickstart collision
of hardcore guitar and brutalised metallic rap beats. Independent
releases and UK tours ensued - and even storming gigs in Japan,
but there was always a sense of searching for a way to take
the intensity and twist it into different shapes, with new,
more personal means of expression.
The turning point came as new arrival James
brought in a new style of playing, spinning nimble-fingered
Latin poignancy in amongst the crunching power riffs. Open-mouthed
in excitement, the band swallowed it whole and promptly knuckled
down to the task of distilling their hard, pure essence, bringing
the raging funk into focus and blending it all with the fresh,
new sounds and unexpected moods they were exploring.
James and drummer Ben write the bulk of the music, ensuring
that beats, riffs and poignant guitar get given equal weight
from the outset. As the sketches take shape, other members
set about the skeleton, adding taut, muscular bass to fatten
the grooves and underpin the melodies, with John the DJ's
sparse and clever use of the decks adding skitterings of sound
and layers of texture, without intruding on James' more intricate
guitar. There's a winning directness at work here too, an
In Yer Face exuberance on the springheeled grooves of 'Everybody...'
and 'Riddle Of Bling', and the hard, elastic funk of 'R U
Mad'. 'I Wish' addresses gang violence, but sticks to the
world they know in this tale of a boy stabbed to death in
a petty argument, the kind that can erupt in an instant when
bored youths strut around with weapons - for a laugh, or for
kicks, or some cartoon notion of respect. There's no need
to set it in some comic strip Gangsta Hell. It happened on
their doorstep. To a friend. Reality's brutal enough.
There's a paradox at the heart of
LDP that makes you wanna define them by what they're not,
as much as what they are. There's no sense of 'wannabe' posturing
here, no Attitude-By-Numbers, or Angst on Demand - at the
flick of a switch or a pedal. LDP dare to do different and
cut their Angst, Attitude and Volume with just a little of
what might be called soul. So are they a Hip Hop Crew or a
Rock Band? A Groove Thing that rocks, or vice versa? 'Decide
for yourself, make something up,' grins Ollie. 'It's not something
we tend to worry about too much. We are what we are. It works
for us. Anything else is a bonus'.
www.lockdownproject.com
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