UK grime fixture Mr Mitch’s latest LP explores a pared-back sound. It feels polished and tactile, with themes of loyalty, accountability, and fatherhood.
For a brief period in September of 2013, the UK grime scene went to war. This time, though, the battleground was Soundcloud, and the soldiers were the genre’s producers, who turned out a fearsome barrage of beats—christened “war dubs”—aimed at their peers and rivals. In the spirit of Jamaican soundclash culture, there was the sense that this battle was as much about the flexing of technical ability as any real enmity. One producer rose above the fray: Mr. Mitch, real name Miles Mitchell, who dropped a selection of soft, sample-driven tracks he called “Peace Edits,” and in doing so, all but left with the spoils.
Time has proven this to be not so much a conceptual feint as an expression of Mitchell’s character. There is no front to the music he makes, no rough edges. Instead, Devout—like its predecessor, 2014’sParallel Memories—explores a pared-back, gossamer sound, with emotions to the fore. Mitchell is no outsider: he runs his own label, Gobstopper Records, and is one of four producers behind London clubnight Boxed, a home for inventive, off-the-wall productions that has been credited as an engine behind grime’s revival. But he is also a father of two from suburban South London and his own artist albums reflect this reality, exploring the sanctuary of home life and matters of the heart.
Parallel Memories was pretty but almost too minimal, sometimes feeling short of a layer or two. It would be deceptive to claim Devout is heavier, but it is compositionally tighter, and roughly half the tracks feature vocals from Mitchell and a small coterie of guests. There are still qualities that harken back to grime: the 16 bar structures, the wriggling, liquid melodies. But where grime generally works from an abrasive, lo-fi palette, Devout feels polished and tactile, reminiscent of Fatima Al Qadiri’s forays in sino-grime, or the ’80s synth ambient of Ryuichi Sakamoto.
ASMR enthusiasts will find a lot to love in the pizzicato violin and breathy synth washes of “Lost Touch”—or “Black Tide,” with its analog camera sounds and melodies that squeak like a squeegee on a windowpane. The album’s vocal turns, meanwhile, veer soulful, grappling with love and relationships from a mature perspective. On “Fate,” Denai Moore whips up a quiet storm as she puts an end to a floundering love affair. “VPN” captures the pain of separation, with fellow South Londoner Palmistry’s airy cod-patois afloat over blown-glass melodies and a gentle kick.
Parenthood is a vexed topic in popular music; the rap album blighted by the saccharine track about Dad life is a cliché for a reason. Devout tackles this conundrum head on. The sole MC moment on the album comes courtesy of P Money, who raps about fatherhood on “Priority.” His delivery balances #blessed vibes with a glimpse of struggle and challenge, and Mitchell is canny enough to pair it with a beat laced with just a shred of anxiety—you can feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. More sentimental are the moments when Mitchell himself takes the mic, his voice tinted with Autotune. On “Intro,” he croons accompanied by samples of his sons at play, while “Oscar” is a song directed towards his newborn, set to childlike xylophone chimes. They come over as more imperfect than the rest of Devout, but their homemade intimacy feels like an end in itself.
Describing the concept of the album, Mitchell has spoken of challenging negative representations of black fatherhood: “We all know the stereotype of the black dad with multiple children from multiple partners who is absent from the child’s life, we see it consistently in popular culture,” he says in promotional materials. “I want to champion the alternative, which to me is just normal.” Loyalty and accountability are topics that seldom make it into popular music, but Devout finds bliss in its sense of balance. From its gentle textures come a calm centeredness, from its soft words a sense of strength.
