Scratch the Surface: Exploring the new sensation in London's underground music sceneLondon's own mysterious Scratch is bringing a new edge to the underground music scene.
Scratch (centre front) and his backing band have been breaking and entering to play their brand of folk punk in abandoned structures all around inner city London.When I got the call to go and see "the show everyone in London's talking about", I assumed I would be heading out to the West End, taking in the Lion King, Wicked or some other musical show that had got mainstream tongues wagging over the past few weeks. What I didn't expect was to be thrown in at the deep end for real, plunged into the darkness of the underworld of London as I embraced a show that was genuinely as far from the West End (not literally) as it's possible to be. My night out this weekend provided me with a new perspective on music as well. What I once thought of as grassroots now looks more like corporate molding, and I know I'll never be able to see artists in quite the same light again.
When the Londonist editor got in touch with me this past Friday night, my instructions were simple - I had to direct message an Instagram account to find out a time and place to be in order to take in a live performance and an elusive interview with one of London's most whispered about underground artists. Of course, being the pop fan I am, I had never heard of the artist in question. Scratch was his name, and his Instagram account was little more than a series of the same picture of himself and two other men with bandanas over their faces and a message telling people a time and asking them to DM for the location of what I could only assume was a live show. Assuming it was all just posturing and a trendy part of the show, having never been to a show at anything less organised and corporate than an O2 Academy, I cheerily sent off my DM, explaining who I was and hoping to hear back from this Scratch with details about where I would pick up my press pass and who my contact at the venue would be. But this was a far cry from Shoreditch, and the three word reply I received within a matter of minutes made me somewhat apprehensive. The words Brixton and warehouse stuck out like a sore thumb. They weren't joking around when they mentioned underground. What the hell was I getting into?
After hopping a taxi to Brixton, I managed to find the "venue" after about twenty minutes of wandering around the area intermittently looking at Google Maps on my phone - no offence to Brixton, but the phone was in and out of my purse within seconds each time. This is a place where you really don't want to show off what you have. Unless you don't want to have it anymore. Making my way towards the door of the warehouse, I kind of wondered what I was going to find here. I had heard Scratch was something of a voice of the working class, an acoustic punk with a penchant for rapping who tells it like it is and doesn't hold back on themes like social divisions and capitalism. With this in mind, I half expected to walk into a 1970s era punk rock show, to stand in a rather understated music venue, to be roughed up a bit in a rowdy crowd of men in their 40s or 50s sporting some doomed faux hawks and denim jackets that haven't fitted them since Sid and Nancy met their untimely demise. As I approached the large blank door and knocked to announce my arrival, I was shocked to be almost dragged inside as a large man dressed like an enforcer for the Krays swung the door open and closed without any question, no doubt trying to conceal the location from any prying eyes outside. After I paid my five pounds and made my way past the decorating table that had been set up as some sort of makeshift reception, I entered a room that quickly showed just how wrong my preconceptions of tonight had been.
Far from the grotty nightclub style music venue I had expected to find, this was literally nothing more than a warehouse. A few spotlights had been hung around the walls of the clearly abandoned property to allow people to see where they were going, and as I made my way across the cavernous space, I noticed that the majority of the windows, situated way up high, had long since been smashed. The wind howled through the broken windows and as I looked for anything resembling a stage, I made a note of the crowd in attendance. Not one person resembled the sort of washed up punk I had predicted I would see here tonight, although given how wrong I had been on every other point so far, I should say my surprise at this was rather muted. People hanging around waiting for the show were young, sometimes fashionably dressed and fresh faced. They wore slogan tshirts, baseball caps and occasionally jeans still bearing the tiny splats of paint that could only come from the mist emanating from a can. This was not the 70s punk movement, but the 21st century disaffected youth, people from working class backgrounds who were here just to hear the voice of their generation. I relaxed when I realised I fit in slightly more than I had originally expected, although I still stuck out like the proverbial thumb with my South London affectations and boutique clothing.
When Scratch took to the stage, people stood up and paid attention.After a while of people watching, what fascinated me was that there were youths from all different backgrounds here, coming together as one to enjoy something raw and ready. Kids who would rarely mix on the outside - gangs, geeks and everyone between - were here, shoulder to shoulder, to experience something so far removed from the mainstream I doubt most people in London have even heard the artist's name.
When I eventually locate the stage, I have to stifle a smile. A literal pile of shipping pallets sits at one end of the warehouse, a crowd now starting to gather around it, with a large plywood board behind it. On the board, the word "Scratch" has been tagged (sprayed) quite skillfully, and I stand for a moment to take in what this represents. The street art has a real significance to people here. From those in the growing crowd who clearly partake in graffiti to the others who link it to their social standing and the voice of their people, this is a mixture brought together by their love of grassroots art and what it represents. I start to wonder if my expectations of Scratch himself will be wrong as well. Will he really be the angry man, spitting distinctly unskilled vocals into a microphone in search of "the message"? I wonder.
Of course, I was wrong. I don't have long to ponder what I might see, as the clock hits 1am - shows like this are staged at late hours of necessity, of course. I've been there only a few minutes, but the precise start time suggests that the creation and staging of an event like this takes carefully executed precision that almost belies the sort of underground setting that's all around us now. When Scratch takes to the stage to a surprisingly rapturous reception, I take my place with a wry smile on my face. Far from what I expected, he's a rather diminuitive guy in his mid 20s. He could have been anyone else in this warehouse and I would have never batted an eyelid. From his flat-skipped snapback to his rather trendy jeans and trainers, he looks every part the youth of today, yet armed with a small amp and a microphone, and backed by a couple of acoustic guitars and a makeshift drum kit, he somehow manages to look like a veteran. Raising an eyebrow to the crowd, I could swear he looks right at me, the leader of this underground movement sensing a privileged intruder into his world without even having to try. My stomach lurches a little as I feel like everyone is looking right at me, but then he turns back to the crowd and nods.
"Brixton, my people. What's up? Let's see if we can get through this," he laughs with a strong inner city accent, before he dives straight into his music. Again, this was not even slightly what I expected to hear. Of course, the sound quality is poor and the production is completely non existent (literally), but even in this squat-styled environment, I can't help but be somewhat impressed. Rather than the noise I had expected, what comes from the "stage" is instead a quirky sound - almost a mixture of folk and punk. It's not angry or loud, and although it clearly comes wrapped in a strong message that resonates with those in attendance, the upbeat tones and incredibly clever lyrics are something of a joy to behold. When he sings, his voice is strong and skillful, and when he raps, Scratch hits all the right buttons to give him a reggae-punk edge I never would have pinned on a guy that looks as he does. By the end of the show, every misgiving I had at the start has been blown away. The lyrics are clever and at times intensely funny if poignant, his rhymes have meaning and he brings about a strangely happy atmosphere with bouncy acoustic numbers that are really so far away from what I expected.
Most of all, though, this is a guy with a message. To have scouted a squat venue, broken in, set everything up and held a concert (of sorts) in the space of just a couple of hours takes a lot of courage, endeavour and enterprise. This is urban music in the strictest sense, bringing music to the streets for real. If graffiti had a sound, this would be exactly what we'd hear. This is a guy who when he stands up and spreads his message, people listen. I can see it in their eyes as they watch the show. This really connects with people on a very real level, and that's a skill that you're born with. The charisma is what makes Scratch the hottest ticket in the underground world, and tonight shows me why everyone's talking about him in whispered tones. When the show ends, prematurely, I find myself wanting so much more. Clearly this is grassroots music at its very finest, and something that many people would never even dream existed. To have a chance to look into this world, even if only for a night, is an eye-opening experience it would be impossible to ever forget.
All that remains is to scarper back to the safety of Shoreditch. It may be edgy, but it's certainly not this risky. The blue lights are apparently drawing nearer...
Check back soon for our VERY exclusive interview with the man himself when Scratch speaks to the Londonist about his messages, punk ideals and the power of grassroots music.