Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer: Flattery Not Included
The much maligned "comedy record" would appear to be cutting it's own path through the cultural ether at the moment. Like them or not, there's a lot of them about, and the best of them manage to artfully sidestep the issues of genre and authenticity that often hound more serious acts. The last couple of years, in particular, has throw up some very artful examples that walk the fine line between comedy and real music; we've seen some excellent albums from Flight of the Concords, Duckworth Lewis Method, and Dan Le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip, all of which have been ostensibly "funny" and yet at the same time manage to tap into some deeper level of engagement.
The example I'm turning my critical eye on today is quite an old one - Flattery Not Included, by Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer was released all the way back in the blue remembered hills of 2008 - but my reasons for examining it now are twofold: firstly, Mr B will be providing the entertainment for The Chap magazine's annual bash, The Grand Anarcho-Dandyist Ball (a "night of 1000 waistcoats", so I'm told), and secondly, our boys in white stand on the cusp of an historic victory (one hopes) over the Aussies on their home turf in this year's Ashes.
As a result, all things cricket are at the front of my mind, and when it comes to cricketing songs there are only two acts that spring to attention; The Duckworth Lewis Method's 2009 album[1], and the song Straight Out of Surrey by Mr B. The latter has a rather amusing youtube video, and if that weren't enough, it's a beat-for-beat word-for-word parody of NWA's Straight Outta Compton.
And there's the rub that lifts Flattery Not Included above the bog-standard comedy record. This record is most definitely on the "funny" side of the comedy/music divide, but there's a love and respect for the source material being parodied that is palpable. Mr B clearly knows his Hip-Hop[2], and that gives his "Chap Hop" a sheen of respectability that allows him to legitimately mock Tim Westwood (on the track called, euphemistically, Timothy) and turn DJ Kool's Let Me Clear My Throat into Let Me Smoke My Pipe. And it's still bloody hilarious. So dig out your best brogues, cravat and blazer, and bask in the chapish wonder of it all.