How Heartless Crew United All Strands Of Bass Music With ‘Crisp Biscuit Vol. 1’ 🏆

Words: Son Raw

In 2002, UK club culture was in a transition period. Geopolitical shocks from 9/11 rippled half a world away as the post-cold war euphoria of the ‘90s belatedly ended, tightening purse strings and pushing UK garage’s champagne and glitz out of step with the popular mood. Meanwhile, closer to home, 2-step was in the midst of its own internal conflict, with veteran garage DJs turning their noses at the “grimey” beats and lyrical barbs percolating on pirate radio stations like Deja Vu FM and Rinse FM. While grime and dubstep, as full-fledged genres, were just around the corner, for most of 2002, DJs and producers were throwing around words like “raggage”, “eskimo”, “sublow” and “breakstep”, trying to make sense of the new sounds they were hearing, with few being able to synthesise every new innovation hitting the airwaves.

The Heartless Crew had no such problems.

The North London trio of DJ Fonti and emcees Bushkin and Mighty Moe had seen music evolve before, having begun as a mobile soundsystem combining early ‘90s ragga-dancehall with American hip-hop and R&B. This meant that by the time they caught on as garage DJs later in the decade, they’d already developed a pluralistic, open-minded approach to the genre, rejecting deep house orthodoxy in favour of a party-rocking, microphone intensive approach to DJing that helped transform the genre from a London-centric variant of Jersey House into a genre and culture all its own. By 2002, they were undisputed UKG heavyweights, with a coveted Sunday night slot on BBC Radio 1Xtra, but what they didn’t have was an official album showcasing their idiosyncratic approach in one convenient package. Crisp Biscuit Vol. 1 changed all of that (despite not leading to a Volume 2).

A double CD focusing first on garage tempos and then on drum & bass, Crisp Biscuit remains a perfect document of UK club culture at the turn of the millennium, immediately before grime and dubstep changed the game. Though nominally a mix mostly comprising other people’s production, both discs feature Bushkin and Mighty Moe trading bars from front to back, displaying the air-tight chemistry that made them favourites both in raves and on the radio. Though they stuck to the dancehall-inflected hosting style then still popular at garage raves—rather than the more aggressive, lyrically-inclined bars of the upcoming generation—Heartless Crew not only sounded perfectly up to date in 2002, their work on Crisp Biscuit still holds up today thanks to their back-to-back flows and high-energy vocals.

This album-oriented approach and focus on emceeing also freed Fonti’s selection from the demands of dubplate culture: rather than putting together a bevy of exclusives that would be hot for a month before going stale, the DJ instead pulled from a variety of live set favourites, drawn from the previous decade of UKG, jungle, dancehall, R&B and beyond. Whether opening with an Earth, Wind & Fire classic paired to upfront rhyming, playing the instrumental B-side to the Real 2 Real classic “I Like To Move It”, or mixing in Missy Elliott’s “Lick Shots” so subtly that it sounds like an original production, Crisp Biscuit served as an introduction to the crew, capturing their lightning in a bottle-like energy while also serving as a perfect promotional vehicle for their DJ sets. A tune like the Roy Davis Junior classic “Gabriel” would have been an old favourite by 2002, but here, it’s still so effective as a centrepiece on disc one, that the emcees temporarily fall back, almost in reverence, to let the beat ride.

Perhaps the most impressive aspect of the trio’s music, however, was their uncanny ability to blend disparate styles of music into a brand new whole. For instance, near the end of disc one, Fonti blends dancehall production legend Dave Kelly’s “Showtime Riddim” with Urban Myth’s “Makin Me Feel”, itself a house tune flipping the hook from Jay-Z’s “Can’t Knock The Hustle”. This shouldn’t work, but by treating dancehall as halftime garage, the mix somehow combines British, Jamaican and American styles into a brand new sound, serving as a better example of the academic concept of “The Black Atlantic” in music than just about any term paper. Elsewhere, they speed up slow jams (Smooth’s “Undercover Lover”), blend Brandy into D&B (“I Wanna Be Down”, complete with an exclusive drop from the R&B superstar) and use Nate Dogg’s “I Got Love” instrumental as an opportunity to flex American-style flows, showcasing their variety. Just as importantly, the crew is judicious about what they didn’t include on Crisp Biscuit: no corny, rock-adjacent breaks, no grim industrial techstep D&B, and no conservative, old-school hip-hop, keeping the mood sexy and lively throughout.

The best convergence of these styles comes from the crew’s sole original production. “Heartless Theme” (“The Superglue Riddim”) is in the mix for just under two minutes, but its high-speed patois, comparatively big-budget video and catchy hook loom large over the album, serving as a perfect mission statement for Heartless’ inclusive, multi-genre approach. While grime soon smashed any limits placed on UK emceeing, “Heartless Theme”, along with records like So Solid’s “21 Seconds” and Pay As U Go’s “Champagne Dance”, serve as vital links between garage’s house-leaning roots and UK bass’ emphasis on futurism. “Heartless Theme”, in particular, aspired to the big-budget anthem status of early-00s hip-hop, while also remaining accessible and community-oriented, bubbling up mostly via pirate radio, local shops and raves.

Granted, Crisp Biscuit Vol. 1 isn’t perfect: disc two’s focus on D&B isn’t quite as inspired as disc one’s garage, even as the crew dodged the mechanistic darkness then dragged the genre down in favour of a mix of jump-up and jungle. Likewise, Bushkin and Mighty Moe’s rhymes, while hype, lack the depth and variety that grime artists would soon incorporate into their repertoire, instead sticking to party-centric chants and call and response vocals. Even 20 years later, however, Crisp Biscuit Vol. 1 remains an incredible document of not just an era in UK music, but also one of that era’s absolute best crews. Throw it on in the crib before a night out, and thank me later.


Posted on October 06, 2022