"So I drove up to Brixton from deep south west and had unknown fm on all the way, which wasn't bad, but at that time of day was a bit of a warm up for the night to come. On a Friday at that time its a young Scottish man who doesn't talk too much and lets his tunes ride, so I like listening to him.
When I got to my friends' and knocked on the steel door between the Honest Food Shop and the Albert, they weren't in, which they had said might be the case, so I went for a wander. I came into the covered market and there was this shop on the left with a few crates outside and people hanging about. I had a look at the posters on the window; save Lambeth Women's Project, sensei.fm *essential hip hop teachings* - my kinda shop. But I couldn't work out what they were selling - there were CDs on the one wall, and behind a grill, all these spray paint cannisters - I think I had stumbled upon a modern head shop for the yoot.
I was blown away. The mixing desk arrived, the speakers boomed into life, we all turned and heard the bass start, the crowd moved towards the doors. First up was the guy who started it whose name I forget, and he had it to back it up. He had his hoody up, his head bobbing, shoulders going side to side, a nice bare but deep beat to play with; I liked the way he used his hands, he started easy, he was quite funny, but then he started on about the streets where he grew up, the yoot, the elders, the changes, the difference between the generations. There was a bit about his Mum. I liked the way he moved. I could see why he was the main guy. We all shut up and listened to him with respect."
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