Tinchy Stryder: A massive rant

Poor old Tinchy Stryder. He was robbed at the Mobos, wasn't he? Maybe the organisers just couldn't see him (he's only 2ft tall) and decided to give his award to JLS or some other abomination that parades for urban music now that black artists in the UK have finally gotten the message that labels will only sign them if they rap over half-assed eurotrance knock-offs instead of anything approaching actual hip-hop.

But - and here's a crazy thought - what if the Mobos overlooked Tinchy because they realised he's actually a bit shit? I mean, this man knowingly wrote the line "I'm sorry I misleaded you" in a song.

THERE IS NO SUCH WORD AS MISLEADED, YOU CRETINOUS TOERAG.

Tinchy's songs are upsettingly bad. They are all based around a simple synth hook, relentlessly looped for three minutes in ProTools with no consideration for musical progression, development or subtlety. The synth itself is locked on a setting that exactly recreates the sound of a beserk parrot. The final product is as cheap, loud and plastic as the mobile phones it'll be played on.

On the plus side, Tinchy's last three hits have all been love songs - which is almost unheard of for a rap artist. But can you imagine being his girlfriend, lying next to him as he whispers sweet nothings like "I need you back in my zone" or "babe, it's you I'm fully rating"? You’d drop his tiny hand and drive him straight to remedial English class. Either that or laugh directly into his face.

Anyway, he's got a new single out. It's a rip-off loving tribute to Olive's dancefloor classic You're Not Alone. Inspired by the melancholy, minor key atmospherics, Tinchy has dug deep, deep into his emotions (and his rhyming dictionary) to express these touching sentiments:

We're here to stay
I'm standing here today
By your side is where I'll stay
Until we're old and grey
Standing strong
Holding tight
Don't stop giving out red lights

Those rhymes aren't sick - they are fatally ill with a fever.

Still, I'm clearly missing something. Tinchy sells records by the bucketload - or whatever big container records are shipped in these days. He's had two number ones this year. Kids rave about him. But his chewed-up consonants and gross illiteracy just make my blood boil. So it's me and the Mobos against the rest of the world.

And that is the scariest sentence I have ever typed.

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