Roots Manuva came, he saw, he conquered. A garbled e-mail arrives from Pete Relic, sometime Grand Royal man and now an editor at Vibe. What Relic relates is not for the faint-hearted...
"take 6th east to 2nd south to bowery east to broadway head south and by now it's cold as a con edison pole scaler's ass and from huge overfilled dumpsters bags of garbage are being blown out and tumbling downt the street where WHAPP! they are struck by cabs the garbage bags burst like refuse smart bombs over canal street to leonard hang a right the knitting factory not neat like the old knitting factory where the ceiling was a mesh mess of old sweaters sutured together in and...
Mr. Manuva in black Space Invaders t-shirt (me prideful in my black space invaders knitkap) says "I'm feeling goo-vee" to a room of 50 heads while herbyfella spins cuh-cuh-cutts behind him
i'm in the mood for freestyle
it was hottt! (maybe not like hard knock life tour where I heard fellas screamed like bitches at the sight of all the ice)
rootsman uvaed for bout 20 minutes, including attempted shoutout to all new york boroughs (he could remember only two---what other burroughs are there he asked and I yelled William! to no one's amusement) and goofed overcharlie blackturtle guy dancing dumb down front with freestyle about bouncing back bad brainwaves and "this one's for you--now chill before I call security" (funny cos guy was just annoying, not threatening) then in corny american accent Mr. Manuva said to DJ herbli "Hold that beat, dude" and pulled out a mini spotted leopard stuffedaniml and said What should I name him?
nah King Cornmeal!
then a lil freestyle about
and promise to come back next time with about 40 sarf london lads n lassies."