Rating: NN
I’m confused. When did playtime begin? Was the UK grime rapper who once had beef with Dizzee Rascal just playing on his last album, Treddin’ On Thin Ice? Either way, he’s right: there sure isn’t any playing going on here. Just cold, robotic electro beats with Wiley’s aggressive cockney flows on the usual subjects – th ‘hood, how fly he is, real vs. fake gangstas, sexual prowess…. Same shit, different continent.
If this album is a bid for international popularity, it’s going to take more than an accent for Wiley to stand apart. But he rarely steps outside the boundaries of the thug-posture comfort zone, save for Baby Girl, an ode to his daughter, and the tender hatchet-burying Letter To Dizzee. Still, any sparks are quickly extinguished by nauseating production.