Arriving to catch GLC, I was lucky enough to arrive in time for Skinnyman’s support slot. What I’ve heard of his music before has been dark, gritty rap about Britain ’s seedy underbelly. What I got was a revelation. Rapping (with and without musical accompaniment) about subjects as varied as AIDS and global poverty, he’s passionate, lyrical and hard-edged. A complete chalk to GLC’s cheese, but a great way to start the night off.

“What are you off to see them for? They’re like Morris Minor & The Majors” was one of the comments I got for telling people I was off to this gig. A bit extreme perhaps but it raised an interesting point. Has humour got a place in music? Can an act who don’t write seriously be taken seriously? Who gives a shit?

GLC have star power. They have presence, energy and great tracks, they can rap and they are brilliantly funny. Being at a GLC gig is the closest a gig ever got to a party. A whole stage filled with Welsh chavs rapping and breakdancing is a site to behold. A sold-out Rock City crowd all bounce along. Make no mistake, GLC are seriously funny and also bring a lot of charisma to the stage. Some people have raised doubts about their longevity but it’s hard to imagine there ever being a time when “Your Mother’s Got A Penis” will not be funny. Even the censored radio version cracks a smile. It’s got to be a massive hit for them, just for sickness’ sake.

How long they’ll hold the mainstreams’ attention remains to be seen but right now, there’s no blast like a Goldie Lookin Chain gig. You knows it (sorry).

review by Simon Netherwood
photos by Natalie Marchant
Big thanks to Ian Cheek