Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t…
[Video]
[4.80]
Samson Savill de Jong: I’m pretty confident when I say that I’m the only reviewer on this site who’s ever lived in Bradford, and I’m fairly sure I’m likely to be the only one who’s even set foot outside the train station. Bradford isn’t a place you go to, at least not the actual city; tourist attractions usually involve getting on a train to Skipton or Shipley, which have Bradford postcodes but are really countryside villages. You don’t have to walk around long to see why. Outside of the (quite nice) central square you quickly start to see the boarded-up houses and worn-down streets, proof of the underinvested North of England, along with the failed clubs that people tried to open before quickly giving up. If you’re young and you want to go out in Bradford, you go to Leeds, the New York to Bradford’s Newark. It certainly feels like the land time forgot, and so when BBCC talk about their sound being a throwback in part because nobody in the (few) Bradford clubs they DJ’d wanted to hear newer music, it makes complete sense. Bradford is a bit of a shithole. But for the people who are from Bradford it is their shithole; they may get to take the piss out of it, but they also love it, and woe betide the outsider who comes and starts shitting on it. That’s a lot of context for a song and group that on the surface don’t sound that deep, but I don’t think you can really get BBCC’s proud irreverence without knowing where they came from, even if they don’t want to be limited to a parochial curiosity. Does it make “Don’t You Worry About Me” a good song? Not exactly. The energy of the crew is infectious, but I’m not a big fan of the hook, and this sort of thumping pop rap just isn’t the kind of sound I’m into. But it would be easy to accuse the song and lyrics of saying nothing, and I don’t think that’s fair either. This song really does represent their experience of being from Bradford, dealing with all the bullshit that comes with that (all the references to drug dealers are in part standard rap shit, but it’s also not an uncommon occupation in the city), but still finding a way to have a good time in spite, or maybe really because, of it.
[5]
Andrew Karpan: Nice to see a new grime act that takes more after Dizzee Rascal than Skepta, even if the effect only fills their chart debut with a nostalgic anguish that the polite group of English lads cannot possibly answer. More transfixing, perhaps, is the work of chorus — which pitch shifts and retools a largely ignored Norwegian EDM single from last year by a DJ act called Hoved, turning it into a Robyn-lite, neon-bright ribbon of sound. There’s something noble about this act of recycling and suggests a bold and admirable future for last year’s duds.
[5]
Aaron Bergstrom: A worthy addition to the surprisingly rewarding genre of “British Artists Where It’s Not Immediately Clear Whether Or Not They Are Meant To Be Taken Seriously” (see also: The Streets, Big Shaq). Last year’s “450” was a giddy headrush wasted on our lost Covid summer, but “450” walked so “Don’t You Worry About Me” could run. I want to crash an ATV. I want to get kicked out of a Sheffield nightclub. I can’t stop smiling. (Also, I’m choosing to believe that they picked this sample because they couldn’t get the rights to “Tiny Little Bows.”)
[9]
Scott Mildenhall: Levelling up in action: under pressure from the noble implore of the Conservative and Unionist Party, the Metropolitan Liberal Elite of Radio 1 have added these guys and Tom Zanetti to their playlist in the same week. Regional inequality is cured. Whatever is really going on — and there seems a wisdom to leaving Bad Boy Chiller Crew an intriguing mystery — this blast of Bluetooth pop makes for a charming madeleine. Like hearing MC Smally all grown up, or the Kersal Massive‘s ambitions realised; the Blackout Crew donked so they could run. A few more bites, though, and the charm wears off. It’s not stale, but it does leave a bad taste.
[5]
Thomas Inskeep: These Yorkshire dorks are barely adequate rappers, and clearly think they’re tough and cool. But because they’re making bassline music, they’re rapping over sped-up house tracks, in this case a Hoved single from just last year, and that piece of their music is enjoyable. So, split the difference?
[5]
Ady Thapliyal: Bad Boy Chiller Crew got buzz off their goofy ’90s rave revivalism; their latest single, however, is a 2010s piano house buzzkill.
[2]
Katherine St Asaph: This sounds like it’s 10 years ago and everyone’s still making carefree apocalypse-pop like “Give Me Everything.” If it was 10 years ago I’d probably have some Big Theory about the mood of 2011 vs. 2021 and how carefree their relative apocalypses feel. These days I’m just happy to hear a song sounding carefree.
[6]
Alfred Soto: It’s cute how “Jump Around” produces a ripple effect all these years later.
[5]
Mark Sinker: With a beat like someone punching yr arm hard, as if to say it’s just a bit of fun — except twice a second until one of you dies. It deserves to be him.
[2]
Ian Mathers: If this was just the backing track (including the sampled hook) I’d honestly give it at least a [7], I was nodding my head and singing along in a very undignified timbre like halfway through. As it is, I was deeply disappointed when they came back to the second verse after the hook and… the same lacklustre guy just starts up again. There are more guys in the video! They do eventually get a look in, but I can’t say it’s an improvement. They should have put a donk on it.
[4]