Roots Manuva: Hip hop gets back to its roots

The Mercury Prize judges have announced their nominees, but which artists are set to make the headlines in the year ahead? Fiona Sturges talks to the British rapper Roots Manuva, whose second album is out next month,

Here's a question for you. How many British rappers can you name? Quickly, off the top of your head. And before you say Tricky, he doesn't count. You're more likely to find him filed under trip-hop than rap. You can forget about Monie Love, too – she decamped to the States when she was still in her teens. Give up? It's not so easy, is it?

Last month the style magazine The Face ran a feature proclaiming a renaissance in British hip hop. Great news, you might say, except that their evidence was somewhat flimsy. The return of Stereo MC's, for instance, is hardly a great boon to hip hop given that most people consider them to be a dance act. Among the other new rap luminaries listed were 12 Stone Productions, As If, Greenpeace, Skitz and Killa Kela. All very talented, I'm sure, but they're hardly household names.

Our failure to produce a rap act on a par with Eminem or Public Enemy or even – heaven forbid – Puff Daddy would suggest that hip hop isn't necessarily where British talent lies. But there is one man upon whom all our hopes are pinned. He is Roots Manuva, aka Rodney Smith, the 28-year-old London rapper who has already won international respect on the basis of just one LP. Brand New Second Hand was one of the finest albums of 1999, a work of astounding confidence that saw Smith's stalwart urban declamations set against dense reggae and rap grooves. Critics were beside themselves with delight, hailing Roots Manuva as the saviour of British hip hop.

To his dismay, the term has stuck. "I suppose it's nice to get the exposure," he ponders. "And it's good to generate a vibe and get some interest going. But it's not all that flattering. It suggests that hip hop needs saving and I don't think that's true. Hip hop's spirit is stronger than ever."

Smith is in a chipper mood, slouching almost horizontally in his chair at his record company headquarters in south London. His excitement about music is palpable. "I'm really into French rap at the moment," he exclaims. "I don't even know what they are rapping about but I really feel the essence of it."

Smith says hip hop is alive and well in the UK, it's just that the media has chosen to concentrate on the States. When I suggest this may have something to do with the larger-than-life personalities of American rappers, he lets out a deep belly laugh.

"You see? You lot fall for that stuff when it don't mean a thing. It's not real. Europe doesn't encourage the big excesses that America does. In the UK we don't really flaunt wealth that much. That's why hip hop is so much healthier over here. We're not hung up on the big cars and the clothes. It's not just about people wanting to be famous."

Still, it appears to be down to Smith to inject the UK scene with some credibility, and he's made some impressive headway. He made a guest appearance on Leftfield's much-lauded Rhythm and Stealth LP last year; more recently he has worked with The Specials, Mica Paris, 23 Skidoo and the American rapper Pharoahe Monch.

Though Smith disapproves of his Messiah-like status, he's not daunted by it. "I don't feel the pressure. Sure, I want British hip hop to have a higher profile and if I can help, then that's cool. But I've got to admit that I'm primarily in it for me. I've spent loads of money and loads of time trying to make a good album and I want to see a return."

And, while Smith may be unerringly positive about hip hop's future, he's not above a bit of constructive criticism. "I want to give hip hop a bit of variety," he says. "One of the drawbacks of its success is that people have started getting lazy, going over the same formulas, going to the same sample sources and regurgitating the same subject matter."

Smith's concerns are certainly more wide-ranging than those of his US peers. Race and religion figure strongly in Run Come Save Me – the song "Sinny Sin Sins" is a fierce diatribe against fire-and-brimstone religion, in which he refers to his father, a pentecostal clergyman: "Woke up one Sunday, feeling kinda raw/I said 'Dad I don't want to go to church no more/Soon as I said it I felt a slap to my jaw".

Smith grew up in Stockwell in south London; his parents had moved there from a small village in Jamaica called Banana Hole. As a child he was present at numerous weddings and christenings where giant sound systems would be pounding out dub and reggae.

"I was always fascinated with those oversized hi-fis. You would always find me at those parties staring into the speakers. Then there were the guys with the microphones talking really fast. It seemed cool and it sounded good."

This would go some way to explaining why Run Come Save Me, along with its predecessor, owes more to dancehall sounds than to Seventies funk, the supposed birth-place of hip hop.

"Y'know, I'd stand up in court and say that hip hop is reggae's son," Smith maintains. "I'm not denying that it came from American funk, or even from kids just rhyming on the streets, but I wouldn't say that's the whole story. It goes back a whole lot further than that."

As he grew older Smith started going to outdoor parties and borrowing bootlegged hip hop tapes from his neighbour. By the time he reached his teens, he was hanging around community studios where he would mess around with the samplers.

It was in these same studios that he made Brand New Second Hand, an album he describes as "innocent, really raw. If I liked the sound of something I just put it in". In Run Come Save Me Smith has moved up a gear. There is pressure from his record company to get radio play, he says. While he has never heard the immortal question "Where's the hit?", the expectations were there to make a more commercial record.

"Big Dada may be an independent label but that doesn't mean they don't say 'C'mon we need some hook lines'," he laughs. But Smith turned down some lucrative offers from major labels following the release of his debut album.

He notes that working with a smaller label does have its advantages. "It's not just about getting the money. It's about being surrounded by the right kind of people, people that inspire you and help you see the bigger picture. I want to be around people that understand what I'm trying to do."

The single 'Witness (One Hope)' is out on Big Dada. The album 'Run Come Save Me' is out on 13 August