The Pioneer, purity & saturation effects: why a black british genre is on life support from birth
- Isaac Semple
- Feb 13
- 3 min read
Black Britons have, without question, shaped the musical identity of the United Kingdom for well over 40 years. From ska to UK drill, since the 1980s mainstream youth culture has been driven by the Black community. However, upon closer inspection, one may notice that today, many of the sounds and movements generated by Black Britons are gathering dust.
I have spent many a commute to work listening to tape packs and whether it’s jungle, UK garage, grime or funky one question always comes to mind, “Why did we stop making this?” However, there was something that sent me over the edge.
Whilst watching Femi Oyeniran and Nicky "Slimting" Walker’s 2022 docuseries, The Evolution of Black British Music on Netflix, this question lodged itself in my mind and, this time, it didn’t go away. I studied how and why so many once thriving scenes dissipated, and I believe I found the three core reasons a Black British genre is on life support from birth.
The first key tenet is something I identified as “The Pioneer” problem. All genres have founders, key players and individuals that help to establish it. However, in Black British music there seems to be a theme. The culture at large deifies its pioneers. The mindset appears to be, “Nobody can be as good as Wiley. No one can move the scene forward like Skepta,” so instead of the proverbial torch being given to someone else it is simply blown out.
Pioneers are seen like the pillars of a building, and once they are gone, in Black British music, it seems like the fans and participants alike would rather let the entire structure crumble then find new pillars.
I have always juxtaposed genres such as grime with hip-hop and highlighted how DJs such as Cool Herc and Grandmaster Flash are seen as pioneers from the 1970s, but were allowed to retreat and be replaced by equally respected figures like Kool DJ Red Alert in the ‘80s and Pete Rock in the ‘90s, each carrying the culture and sound forward. Unlike grime, UK garage and jungle the culture was not left dismantled when its pioneers were no longer present.
Moving along to another reason why so many Black British genres end up on life support is what I have highlighted as the “purity” problem. Naturally, new sounds ascend with a certain sonic. However, for some bewildering reason, when it comes to the UK, specifications and boundaries are set in place almost from the beginning.
Unfortunately, this is a quick way to make sure the genre is destined to die. The Sugar Hill Gang, boom-bap, G-funk, crunk, trap they all sound very different yet hip-hop was allowed to sonically evolve and grow even as it veered so far from its roots.
In comparison, apart from the addition of 808s, much of grime today sounds exactly like it did 20 years ago. The same can be said for dubstep and jungle. In a musical environment open to evolution, drum & bass would be seen as an evolution of jungle and still called jungle. But we Brits decided to enforce a strange, unnecessary genre barrier.
As we conclude this analysis, based on my evaluation, the third and final reason Black British genres are on life-support from birth is due to saturation. When a new musical movement emerges, unsurprisingly, everybody rushes for a slice of the pie. With the rise of platforms like GRM Daily churning out music videos and content around the clock, the youth are forced into a cacophony of this music until it becomes unbearable.
This is undoubtedly what happened with afro-swing and will soon be the case of UK drill. On these platforms the quality control is minimal, and the sheer quantity of music soon pollutes people’s algorithms leading to a cultural fatigue.
I could say each of these reasons hold equal weight, but I am confident in asserting that Black-British music is held back by the reluctance of its fans and creators to let it evolve. Why does jungle “have to” include breakbeat samples? Why does the grime “have to” be at 140bpm? I often ask myself these questions, but mostly surmise, “Is UK drill simply just what grime would have become if Black Brits let it grow?” I tend to believe it is.
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