I’m Not Whole by Seymour 125.

D’ya ever get the feeling that something is missing? It could be as you triumphantly emerge 10 lbs lighter from the bathroom after a sphincter-straining dump or it could be that moment of panic you experience as you step off some form of rancid public transport and you think you’ve left your onion bhajis on there even though you ate ‘em all during the journey, but no matter how contented you think you feel, lurking somewhere deep inside is that existential void which quietly burns away at your soul making you feel not quite complete.

Seymour 125 is widely regarded as a deity of dobbers who can whip up a glob of spunk firing, fully formed flying phallus with pubes ‘n’ veins in under 10 seconds and he’ll forever be king of the 8-line, the G-line, the 8Ball & MJG-line, the ghost-yard and the Rhyl Sun Centre car park. But despite the adulation from his peers and the street fame in the crap graf’ game he still feels that abyss in the pit of his stomach us mere paupers experience and just had to express it with this unfinished dobber which is crucially missing any bellend detailing.

The use of silly-string instead of spray paint is a subtle touch in which Seymour makes the point that life is linear like a piece of string and was most definitely not because he had no paint due to his mate Daz 2112 getting caught stuffing a can of CarPlan down the front of his McKenzie trackie bottoms in Halfords before.

“Wolftown Massive” by Molly Neux

The Midlands Crap Graf scene is often ignored by the scholars in the textbooks that are in frequent use at KRS One’s Temple of Hip-Hop Culture (nb – they’re looking for a new head of Sisssssssy Studies since Professor X became Professor Ex). Instead they focus on such hotbeds of speed-dobberdom as Reading and Croydon. And how have the Midlanders responded to this ongoing snub? By heading to London to tag the fuck out of the smoke. Yup, if those dudes from Birmingham, Solihull and The Potteries can’t get no love at home, they’ll travel.

Here we have a fine piece from one of Wolverhampton’s finest, Molly Neux. The female artist is known for her commitment to the lycanthropic underworld and here juxtaposes her call to arms for her savage crew with a poster for some poncy chamber music bulldagger in the heart of London. But some questions remain: Is it too late for Wolverhampton to get the respect it deserves? Will this rally those Midlanders who left their homes made of iron to find work in London? Does Barry from Auf Wiedersehen Pet know about this? And what the fuck does the last line say?

We might not have been the earliest adopters on the blizock, but we’ve got love for ‘Summer Heights High’, with Chris Lilley playing the three main roles to perfection. Ja’mie King is dope, and no one can front on the drama teacher Mr G, but our hero is obviously potty-mouthed breakdancing Tongan bad boy Jonah Takalua. When he’s not asking his enemies to ‘Fuck off, motherfucker’, or telling his female teacher he sneezed because he’s allergic to her farts, he’s taking it to the lino with his homies. But he’s also a pioneer in the art of crap graf, combining pictures and text to tag up the locker rooms to the illest degree. ‘Dicktation’ has opened up a whole new sphere for crap graf artists to explore, although we actually prefer his lesser celebrated masterwork ‘Lick My Balls’. If you don’t like crap graf, and you don’t like ‘Summer Heights High’, you must be on your period, miss.

Get Jonah to do your very own tag HERE

Beauty And The Beast by Duke Bootee.

We’re big fans of Duke Bootee’s work for Sugarhill Records and his own Beauty And The Beat imprint here at Fat Lace. Frustratingly he ended up one of those immensely talented mid 80’s producers who got nudged out of position when records like Ego Trippin’, Eric B Is President, Peter Piper et al hit in ‘86 forever changing the sonic landscape of rap but with a resume which includes The Message parts 1 and 2, King Kut, Coast To Coast and Triple Threat his legendary status is intact forever.

At first glance this masterpiece reads like the scorned rant of a bitter b-boy emerging from a soured long-term relationship but upon further inspection it’s the type of subtle satirical streetart a pretender like Banksy could only dream of pulling off and a potent reminder of the cruel brevity of beauty to boot. With this brickbound burner Duke makes the point that sexual equality will always be a myth as we live in a deeply misogynistic society where the fairer sex, no matter how intelligent and respected, are tossed on the scrap heap once they reach a certain age. Word to Moira Stewart – that’s deep, yo, and we’re sure that feminists like Gucci Mane Greer would applaud were they not in the kitchen slaving over hot stoves to bring us our dinner.

“The Death of Afrocentrism” by Kemit-Cal Reaction

No, we don’t why it’s called something so pretentious. We’re not artists, dude, we just comment on this shit like the Robert Hughes of the street. The Matthew Collings of Youtube. Maybe the artist, Kemit-Cal, found out that Egyptians didn’t fucking create civilisation after all, in the same way the Chinese didn’t discover America in the 15th century. Maybe he realised things have come to a pretty pass when his-story is actually more accurate than the twisted counterknowledge version of history most rappers spout after they’ve half-understood a KRS One B-side. But we’re only guessing. It may be just that the guy thought graf has become too dumbed down. After all, did Ramo die for nothing? (we know you know he didn’t – he died to make the less interesting part of the otherwise fine ‘Beat Street’ have some emotional resonance and also so they could have a big party with Shango banging on in a dress). Did he die so that all these kids could spray ‘Becky is a slag’ and ‘I fight you nig-nogs’ on a South London underpass? Arguable, but let’s say he didn’t. Kemit-Cal is taking it up a notch, reintellectualising graffiti so that all those ponces colonising a newly fashionable area of New York can hang it in galleries all over again. And, after all, isn’t that what graffiti craves. Yes. But also, in a way no. Discuss…

Here’s king Tim with Fat Lace Issue III. Yes it’s Westwood Wednesday, your midweek fix of the british broadcasting’s personality jock supremo. This is a landmark show, his first for the BBC. Don’t think we’ll be giving you second rate output going forward, we’re not abandoning his LWR, Capital or N Sign days just yet. Here you’ll find some typically unpolished finesse on his debut for Radio 1. It’s unbelievable to think he’s been there for approaching fifteen years but listening to this landmark show he still has much of the flavour from his pirate days but there’s definitely a noticeable shift from his Capital FM style. As we all know he has changed vastly since this show, maybe that came with a steady growth in confidence as a result of a largely unchallenged domination of UK rap radio output but for every fan he lost, he gained many more due to him broadcasting from a national and subsequently international platform. Anyway, enough of that wiki-wiki-pedia shit…

Westwood’s first show on BBC Radio 1, 12/10/94:

Part 1 HERE

Part 2 HERE

Thanks to Alt Rap

In case you were wondering, Dr. Octagon is deceased. James Lavelle will be pouring out a little liquor today.

Finally a documentary on Crap Graf.

We’ve recently been hitting you of with a lot of pre-1990 Westwood but thanks to a loyal Fat Lace reader (cheers Mark !) we bring you a rare chunk of audio where Westwood rips through some of the biggest joints from 1992 in his year end wrap up. As ever, radio gold and highlights just how dope it was back then. Once you’ve checked them out, wipe that tear from your eye and face facts that most exciting audio highlight of 2008 was the Ice T / Soulja Boy internet beef.

If anyone has any vintage radio already digitised, hit us up, we’ll gladly take it off your hands and share it with people that care.

Part 1 HERE

Part 2 HERE

If that wasn’t enough, who remembers N Sign Radio? If you thought Tim’s TV debut was pimping rides on MTV, think again. This classic telly dates back to before Jesus was born, give or take a year. We can’t find any other N Sign on the net but feel free to school and share any links you have. You thought the radio shows were ill, Tim’s catchphrases are legendary on this clip. Safer than a suicide. Indeed.

Direct Link courtesy of Master Mix.

A while back we got a bit of stick from some our readers for the Stop Crackers Rapping week and even suffered verbal abuse via angered commenters posting under various different names calling us self-loathing crackers and making passive-aggressive threats.

What happened to peace? Let it be known that although we hate the majority of white rappers with their nasal voices, their awkwardness at attempting a genre of music which is only good when made by black males and the stench of wet dog, spam and brine they leave on every stage, we practice racial harmony here at Fat Lace as evidenced by this latest Crap Graf where ebony ‘n’ ivory walk hand in hand together.

Babe’s 2K7 latest burner, referencing the 80’s pop classic where Ill Phil C and Earth, Wind & Fire frontman Philly B Most Chill traded verses and pulled hilarious ker-razy faces at each other resulting in much knee-slapping bufoonery in the accompanying video, reminds us of simpler times in da hip hop game when crackers like Seen could go bombing with compoota-rockin’ one armed bandit Kase 2 or when pilgrims like Paul C could produce/engineer some classic records for Ultramagnetic, Superlover Cee & Casanova Rud or Eric B. & Rakim and produce a lot of very average 12″ singles for 4th-tier golden-era groups nobody cared about at the time which have now achieved platinum status in Hamar, Norway.

Sincere, the godz is in here – move on, white men, move on.