There are plenty of successful douchebags in dance music these days that I love to hate. They make it so easy: Skrillex and his nearly single-handed rape of the once reputable dubstep, Deadmau5 and his inflammatory social media presence (and let's not forget those tattoos), Tiesto and his sellout venture into the Brave New Commercial World, David Guetta and his... his... no there's just too much. There is, however, one offender who really takes the cake. Tinie Tempah - J'accuse!
I should first concede that if there weren't such hype about him I would hate him less. He could simply be brushed aside as unappealing but harmless - like gherkins, or when Katie Price tries to sing. But instead of being swept into the proverbial dustbin, Tinie Tempah has been applauded, awarded and lauded as a pioneer in the exciting new combination-genre of rap and dance music. Now firstly – David Guetta has already sh** out this demonchild they are calling the urban/dance fusion, which has struck such a chord with the discerning North American mainstream. Secondly – no one should be giving this kid any more praise; his head's already bigger than a disco ball. Here is how I know...
Tinie Tempah has a distinctly Spanish approach to puncuality. I've heard countless reports and indeed been present (under duress) at two different concerts for which he was two hours late. Such excessive tardiness stinks of ego. Tempah also has a lazy habit of cajoling the audience into doing all the singing for him – a privilege which they pay him for, of course. Drawing on his African heritage (born Patrick Chukwuemeka Okogwu), Tempah instead puts his energy into a Masai-inspired jumping dance across the stage, confident that this ricocheting effect will excite the audience enough into finishing off the song for him while he changes his Ray-Bans (it does). In possibly his greatest of ego-crimes, Tempah believes his 23-year journey from birth canal to private jet is fascinating enough to warrant chronicling. This literary gem, enigmatically entitled My Story So Far and released towards the end of last year, joins a long list of things I wish I didn't know about, just under ‘how a sausage is made', and above ‘genocide.'
So that's a restrained synopsis of the things that blow about Tinie Tempah, but more infuriating than his diva personality quirks is the knowledge that he represents the growing relationship between EDM and pop, in which the latter is playing a parasitic role. EDM has become so diluted with popular culture trash in the last few years that a creature like Paris Hilton has gone from buzzing desperately around the edges of dance music like a blowfly trying to get at your spaghetti, to actually standing centre-stage in some sparkly she-witch outfit waving flags, pressing buttons and causing Avicii - Levels to sound. Sure, she's the laughing stock of YouTube – but so is dance music the laughing stock of every other genre. Perhaps even more embarrassing than newcomers like Tinie Tempah or Niki Minaj are established artists such as Flo-Rida, Rihanna and Chris Brown, who in the space of a year abandoned their supposedly self-defining r&b roots and awkwardly adopted house, to the detriment of their own musicality, of house music and of everyone, anywhere, ever. Ageing rock'n'roll purists are cackling in their armchairs watching a genre they've always considered devoid of musicality prove itself to be so (at least in the mainstream), first exploding then swiftly imploding on itself.
I know this sort of thing happens cyclically throughout music history. I know it doesn't really affect the underground genres; the key players and dedicated fans continue to roll on unharmed and the authentic genres live on... but it does affect Ibiza. When the commercial stars were predominantly r&b they hardly got a look in on our EDM obsessed island. But now the lines are blurred the music pumping out of not only bars but major clubs often overlaps with top 40 radio hits and it's not sounding so swell to these ears.
There is always a silver lining. The transition from r&b to house has seen a steady phase out in popularity of ye olde Americano bump'n'grind dance move. With the rise of the denim short hemline to unprecedented heights up Universal Party Girl's bum crack, it's even more important than ever that we keep these ladies straight-backed and upright to preserve their dignity and save everyone's eyes from exposure unparalleled. Commercial house fortunately lends itself to stomping and fist pumping (as championed by Tempah) - so there's your silver lining right there. Everything else about this sucks.