The Planets The Milkyway Edition by Terror Danjah
Of all the solar systems of all the stars in all the galaxies, he had to sashay back into ours..
Terror Danjah (TD) is Grime's one true (but largely unheralded) genius; the tight-lipped and reclusive cappo de tutti capi to hollering street bosses D Double E and Big Narstie; the Wiley/Bizzle/Dizzee axis of media-feted glitterati that spearhead Grime's commercial arm (you have to big them up, otherwise they flounce. Yes really); and that fabulously unhinged cartel of professorial artisans that hotwire unusually shaped Sega Megadrives in the Boxed/Gobstopper/Local Action protected research institute currently stationed on Jovian moon Ganymede (news not just in: Dr Miles Mitchell and his team have finally succeeded in genetically modifying a particularly virulent strain of Grime such that it now invades its victims' brain calls "weightlessly". You have been told this on three previous occasions. The Luddite BTTOS* pressgang will be annihilated. Think I'm exaggerating? Just remember TD's goblinesque consigliere whose malevolent cackle turned from trademark to millstone the moment Simon Reynolds, in an ill-advised sleeve note, boosted the 'homunculus's' ego instead of paying tribute to its employer. Not much fun being demoted to soldato with a zero-hours contract up your arse is it 'homie'?).
Now for the serious bit. I'm ashamed to say I was beginning to think Terror Danjah had read too much into the now you see me, now you don't, now you barely recognise me and I've only been away for 27 years antics of Porter Ricks, My Bloody Valentine, et al. Ashamed because I know Terror (not literally, I hasten to add) and I should have choked on my own cynicism for doubting he was closeted in some subterranean studio plotting Grime's next Great Leap Forward. As it turns out (it always does) "The Planets ... " is actually a great leap sideways; the sole living exponent of the lateral Eski-Salchow 2-step (quadruple backflip with pike) has wrong everything-ed us again (seriously, did you really expect him to reappear as a shadow of his former, mighty self? The Dark Crawler actually crawling in the dark? I did, if I'm honest, but that's the downside of being a pessimistic bloody idiot).
Now for the even more serious bit. Drop the needle/laser beam on opening track Mercury and any expectations we still had left are instantly turned on their unimaginative little heads: shhhh, whisper it; terror's plumped for low key. Well, sort of. There's a gorgeous, rippling melody riding on a violet-scented bassline and the drums ... ahhhhh the drums ... are FUCKING MASSIVE. Want a revving, reggae head rush on the side? Try P Jam hook-up Earth. Oh, and it appears that our sinister little friend The Goblin has had its gurning gob stopped with a ball of molten pitch ... shit ... I spoke too soon; not only is it back, but it's brought its infant daughter along for the chuckle ... either that or it studied ventriloquism on Mars (Terror's got it/her/Ray Alan in green moccasins on a far tighter leash though).
Now for the wonderful bit. The title of the last track is Button Moon. Self-deprecation in GRIME???? Trust Terror to think of it first.
Now for the most serious bit of all. Ignore the doubters, the haters and the cynics (don't forgive them though - they know bloody well what they do), but for god's sake don't ignore this record. It's a blissbeat-heavy haversackful of rumbling bloody wonderfuck.
OK crew, now we know he's still in charge, let's get down on the streets and spread the word. Put your hand down Dizz, I'll tell you what it is later. And if you don't take those ridiculous sapphire-encrusted gloves off ... STOP FLOUNCING ... I'll have that bloody corner bevelled and see how you shape up as da boy in da fucking river. (Aside, to underboss Yakuza-Neko: if that rascal so much as thinks of nancying about in a cherry orchard with a doily on his head, you have my permission to give him a pixel wave embrace).
*Back To The Old Skool (aka the Yawn Squad)
9/10 after 20 listens