Photo by QUANN of wotdoyoucall.it
Riko Dan shouldn’t need an introduction. Here’s one anyway.
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Born and raised in London, Riko began MCing at age 15 on drum and bass pirate stations. Before long he was rolling with the best of them in Wiley’s Pay As U Go Cartel. When eski clicks replaced breaks and a new generation of South London vocalists took over the pirates, Riko was armed and ready.
I asked DJ Slimzee—one of grime’s founding selectors—to describe his ascendance:
“I met Riko in 1995 on Pressure FM. Even back then he was the best MC on there—mad hype, good flow and a unique style. You’d play a new track and it would never phase him, he’d spit a sick lyric and get the rewind every time. We’ve been good mates ever since. He’s a professional, he never messes up and he makes people go mad in raves. Proper legend, one of the best ever.”
You’re best off experiencing Riko’s apocalyptic patois and effortless mic control through radio sets. Check this Rinse FM appearance alongside God’s Gift and Slimzee, preferably in a room with large subs, a few friends, and no breakable objects.
Riko at a rave in Brighton, 2005.
This 2005 Rinse set with Trim is just as big—Riko’s soundclash background gave him unparallelled battle skills and earned him the nickname London City Warlord. The day after an MC called Demon shit-talked him on air, Riko jumped in the booth and delivered a beatdown so critical it’s rumoured to have ended Demon’s career. “Demon gets gunshot,” indeed.
Right as grime MCs began emerging as legitimate commercial stars in the UK, Riko had to put his career on hold to serve a five year jail sentence for armed robbery. “Whatever I got nicked for, I’m not that person any more. I know that myself,” he said, in an interview shortly after his release in 2004. By that point Pay As U Go had morphed into Roll Deep, and Riko joined up with Wiley, Manga, Flowdan and the rest. Here he is with Wiley and Flowdan on “Babylon Burning” off Roll Deep’s second album Rules and Regulations.
Fast forward a decade to 2015: robots beat humans on jeopardy, America’s first daughter wears backpacker rap tees, cellphones do slightly more stuff than they used to, and bloggers (including us) can’t get enough of the so-called “grime resurgence.” A glance at Riko’s output over the last half decade puts that concept straight to bed (see also: this crucial response from Elijah of Butterz). Releases like the Sleeping Giant LP (2010), “Phone Call” (2010), “Dark Crawler” with Terror Danjah (2012), and his criminally overlooked Rise Of Da Farda mixtape (2013) demonstrate a talent in full swing.
Eager beaver media trend reports aside, Riko’s 2014 was bigger than ever. He decimated Rabit’s “Black Dragons” and duppied Mumdance’s electrifying “Take Time” instrumental. He featured on songs from Pinch and Foreign Beggars. In October a Riko dubplate (with Rihanna, no less) helped Rebel Sound win the London Redbull Soundclash, and he performed live at the competition’s Bristol leg as Subloaded’s secret guest. He’s not slowing down this year, with a forthcoming verse on Future Brown’s February debut.
Last month I met up with Riko for a conversation in a Dalston pizza joint. He wore gray G-Star sweatpants and a puffy orange vest, and spoke in a voice resonant with the same authoritative growl he’s known for on the mic. Thirty minutes later I crammed into the tiny NTS Radio booth a few blocks away and watched him shell down while Slimzee and J-Cush spun tunes from Mssingno, Jon E Cash, DJ Oddz and the like. Internet streams may have replaced pirate aerials but this set knocks as hard as anything from the old days. Grime is a flat circle.
Don’t call it a comeback: like the sound he helped create, Riko Dan never left. Hold tight the London City Warlord.
Noisey: Let’s start with your recent work. How’d you link up with Rabit for “Black Dragons?”
Riko Dan: It was supposed to be a dubplate special originally but he got such good feedback off of it, I’m assuming that’s why he released it. At first it didn’t sound like I’d fit on it, but when I spat on it, and listened back to it, I think it’s one of my favourite songs that I’ve done.
What’s your process typically like with producers?
I don’t usually go through instrumentals, I’ll ask that certain producer to make me a beat, or ask them for one of their beats, and nine times out of ten I’ll walk in and it’s done. I don’t sit down and go through beats, I don’t do that.
Tell me about the Redbull Soundclash, in which you made a crucial dubplate appearance. What did you think of that [notoriously weak and uncompetitive] A$AP Mob performance?
Only thing you have to know about Soundclash is, Soundclash is originally from a Jamaican thing, isn’t it—if we know how to clash, why don’t they know how to clash? I don’t know, because, everyone of my generation grew up on that sound and it’s soundsystems. We know what way that was—but if you’re a musician I’m sure you’re supposed to know what a soundclash is. no matter what country you’re from you should know what a soundclash is. I don’t know—I feel like it’s obvious, but maybe it’s not.
American rap has arguably lost a certain combativeness.
Tell you what, if you got Busta Rhymes out here, he would know what to do, he’d know how to come and clash. Know what I mean? They’re a big group aren’t they—A$AP Mob? If that was like—tryin’ to think—imagine that was G-Unit in their peak—they’d come out and tear the heads off. So I don’t know. They should know as musicians what a soundclash entails.
So tell me about the first soundclashes you ever participated in.
That’s how I grew up. Jungle was the first dance music I thought I could spit over, make an impact on. Back then it was all radio. A lot of little battles on the radio. When I was younger, when the MC’s were older, you were forced to have to battle, you had no choice. I think it helps.
You famously destroyed a guy called Demon on the radio. Tell me about that.
Well, I went to bed, woke up, getting these calls, texts, saying that he was on radio the night before. I hit up Wiley, went into the studio, did one track, gave it to every DJ that I knew possible, and that was it. The end.
What’s the most vicious insult you’ve ever come up with while freestyling?
You know what, there’s only one. There’s not a more vicious insult, just nasty, that’s the ultimate disrespect, if I said that to you, that’s crazy, that’s beef—and that’s talking about your mum.
What is the status of Cemetery Warriors [a supergroup of Riko, Killa P and Flowdan] as of now?
It’s ended. At the time. I had a CD comin’ out, and I brought Killa P and Flowdan, and when we’re done spittin’ it kept getting reloaded. While one of the songs was reloading, I said “Free Cemetery Warriors” and did a couple tunes. At first it was alright, tunes were quite sick, we were getting a lot of people to listen, the way it looked like from the outside, it was sick. But inside…we’re better off, I think, just doing our own thing.
Do you work better in competition? When you have to focus on someone as a competitor rather than a collaborator?
Yeah, I think so. There’s a lot of people that are a lot better than me, but they deserve to be where they are. But when there’s someone who’s kind of similar me, if they’re better than me or if I’m better than them, it gives me an edge or drive.
Who’s giving you that drive right now?
There’s one person, but I don’t want to say it—well, there are a lot of people. Drive comes from me, but seeing my mates do well makes me want to do well.
What do you think of the state of grime vocalists these days?
Most grime vocals are the same 16 bars, 16 up 16 up 16 up. The top MCs will change it up, but run-of-the-mill spitters will be 16 up 16 up, needs freshening up a lil bit.
You once said in an interview, “I’m not just a grime artist, I consider myself a vocal artist.” Can you elaborate on that?
I’m not a grime MC. I’m an MC. I’ll be an MC after grime passes. I love grime, but I don’t see myself as a grime MC. I’m part of grime. I might spit on a different tune.
Whats the craziest rave you ever played?
Sidewinder, I think 2002. Mad. 5-6,000 people, my knees were shaking, I hadn’t spat to that many people before, so that was crazy.
How would you compare the energy at raves in London now to when you were just starting out?
I’ll say it was better before, more alive. But then again there was a bit more trouble before. It was opposing times, better musically, more rougher. Now—not so much trouble and the music’s calmed down. I prefer it how it was. You know happened? Funky house came about, and all the troublemakers went over there. Not at first, but funky house got overwhelmed.
What’s your greatest regret, looking back over your career?
Going to prison. Biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I went when it couldn’t have been a worst time to go. I went when we were turning from boys to men with music, I missed a lot of stuff. But its made me stronger. That’s my biggest regret, going to prison.
If you could give a message to the assembled children of the world, what would you say?
If they’re naughty kids, tell them to behave themselves, if they’re good kids, tell them to carry on. They’re doing the right thing.
How about naughty kids with a good heart?
They need a bit of tough love. You mean the ones that do bad stuff but are alright? Yeah, they need a kick in the ass. Like grime MCs who make like they’re from the ghetto but their mum and dad are teachers, and they grew up in massive houses, but they come on the mic and say they’re from the ghetto. It’s not cool not having money, so why are you making it sound cool?
Do you encounter that a lot?
Yeah man! A guy’ll be normal for the area, but as soon as he starts MC’ing he’ll be gangster. Never been a gangster before, but starts MCing, gets a little following, gets treatment, gets some mates to do a show, and he thinks he’s a gangster. But why would you want to be that?
Follow Ezra on Twitter—@ezra_marc
Riko Dan performs live in Brighton with Mumdance on January 24th, tickets here.
