Roots Manuva - 'Slime And Reason' (Big Dada) Released 01/09/08

First impressions? Baffling. When we last heard from him on 2005’s downbeat but dynamite ‘Awfully Deep’, Roots Manuva was cataloguing what sounded like a severe crisis of self-doubt, even contemplating throwing in the towel.  Now, the South London MC/producer and undoubtedly UK’s top ranking hip hop operator’s virtually radiating good cheer, informing us his mission is to uplift amidst the uncharacteristically upbeat, playful tracks that dominate ‘Slime and Reason’. Where’s the murk, the mystery, the ribcage-rattling subterranean bass?

Then again, the man known to officials as Rodney Smith has a valid reason for shaking off the gloom and the doom. “A lot of people don’t know about Smith”, Manuva admits on the colossal opener ‘Again & Again’, the stuttering horn jabs and chanted choruses of which bring to mind a futuristic update of the Studio One catalogue . ‘Slime and Reason’ should fix that. Not only does album number four practically ooze with quality, ideas and willingness to push boundaries, thus proving Manuva’s staying power and range as an artist; it also marks the energising emergence of a fresh new sound that should appeal to the mainstream that’s so far proved resistant to Manuva’s charms.

Musically, ‘Slime and Reason’ parades the distinctly modern outcomes of a sonic spring-clean. The encyclopaediac knowledge of Jamaican styles that ensured Manuva’s early outings – 1999’s debut ‘Brand New Second Hand’ and the awesome, if uneven ‘Run Come Save Me’ from 2001 – were equally at home in the reggae and hip hop sections of record stores is never far from the surface. Only this time the inspiration’s drawn from the most out-there regions of digital dancehall instead of vintage dub mentalists, resulting in a skewered, wonky, incredibly adventurous beats that de-clutter Smith’s favoured smoky templates. For newcomers, the results provide an irresistible introduction to the considerable feats of reinvention Smith is capable of in a scene littered with acts chasing their own tails musically. Seasoned fans, meanwhile, can rest assured that the new-found accessibility hasn’t been achieved at the expense of dubwise innovation and Babylon-battering righteous intent.

The highlights? Loose and unashamedly fun-fuelled collaborations with Sheffield dancehall dynamo Toddla T, especially the perfectly balanced mix of playfulness and menace on ‘Do Nah Bodda Mi’ and the hyperactive playground ragga of the special lady-wooing ‘Buff Nuff’, are indescribably ace. So is the positivity-drenched, crisp digi-funk groove of ‘Let the Spirit’, the prime candidate here to match the impact of Manuva’s mighty 2001 smash ‘Witness (1 Hope)’. At the opposite end of the emotional scale, ‘The Show Must Go On’s raw depiction of relationship turmoil proves Smith’s breadth and scope as a writer. And if Smith occasionally resorts to rhyming about such timeworn hip hop topics as being great, making money and making money from being great, at least the boasting’s delivered with wit and humour.