CD Review: The Streets – “None of Us Are Getting Out of This Alive” (2020)

One of the greatest pats of The Memory Tourist is allowing myself to give into curiosities that I’d otherwise brush off. This is especially true for contemporary music from artists that were ubiquitous with the mainstream 15 years ago. As I look through every album coming out in a given week, I find myself rekindling a nostalgia that you can’t explain. It’s something you can’t force, instead having to lie dormant until it randomly pops up in life’s great Whack-A-Mole. 

That is how I feel knowing that The Streets have a new mixtape coming out. I know that I’m not alone in knowing who they are, as I’ve read articles from U.K.’s The Independent about how it’s fighting Juice WRLD’s “Legends Never Die” for the top spot of the charts. There’s honestly something endearing about knowing that Mike Skinner still has enough of a fan base still to draw that kind of attention.

I say this for a variety of reasons, including that this is The Streets’ first major work since 2011. Skinner has since become a DJ and started his own family. 

I also say this because to remember The Streets is to recall a very specific time in music that feels like a pivotal “You had to be there” moment to fully understand. As someone who read Rolling Stone and Spin Magazine with some regularity, I was aware of the rising rap scene in The U.K., specifically the works of Lady Sovereign, Dizzee Rascal, and of course The Streets. Those were the big imports, the ones you might find while watching music videos on MTV after school. 

Still, The Streets was sold as the equivalent of the TV series Spaced: it was a personal secret kept by those who recognized their brilliance. Spin would dedicate pages to breaking down the British slang, touting Skinner as this savant of the urban male. Unlike his peers, he had this indie charm to him that definitely requires a trained ear to appreciate. The instrumentation isn’t as over-produced. His vocals weren’t as much about using the cleverest words in the dictionary. I remember listening to “Original Pirate Material” and “A Grand Don’t Come For Free” and understanding what made him special, even compared to the other imports. He was first and foremost a storyteller.

I don’t feel like he ever got his due stateside in large part because he didn’t have that polish. Then again, European hip-hop (and its noteworthy subgenre Grime) never took off either. It still exists, but whereas Spaced lead to noteworthy careers, The Streets just kind of stopped being seen as a prodigy. With that said, I’m amazed at how many of his biggest singles work in my recall memory just because of how much he was ubiquitous with my album collection from that time.

That was 16 years ago.

So of course I became eager to know what The Streets sounded like in 2020, with waves of British imports becoming the hot new thing. As it stands, I was amazed to learn that technically The Streets is a BAND name and not just Skinner’s nickname. With that said, a visit to both’s Wikipedia page will discover that they’re almost described the same way.

This is all to say that Skinner is selling his latest “None of Us Are Getting Out of This Alive” like a duet album. Every song finds him sharing the track with various collaborators, expanding upon his sound and making something that plays well into his everyday philosophy rap style that made him a smash a near 20 years ago. What I’m happy to say is that as far as execution goes, very little about The Streets has changed for the worse. It’s still this tightly wound machine producing a memorable rap album. It’s also very charming how understated it is compared to other hip-hop lifers who would get by on braggadocio.

Maybe it’s because Skinner is now 40, but this album has this humbling underneath. He’s not as obsessed with making money as he is exploring the value of life. It’s an album that joins a long list of titles from 2020 that unintentionally come across as a meditation on the COVID-19 pandemic, where we’re looking at what truly matters to us. There’s little to suggest that this is what motivated The Streets to pop up after a near-decade of absence, though it doesn’t help that the pandemic comes amid a country in disarray, suffering the fallout from Brexit and various leadership changes that seek to change the entire country’s identity. If anything, it’s a good time to look back on mortality and ask what truly matters now. Even if he doesn’t mention it, he clearly cares about you.

The choruses aren’t pop-hooks, instead being used as mission statements and intervals for Skinner to rap around. This is especially evident in the opener “Call My Phone Thinking I’m Doing Nothing Better,” where Tame Impala interrupts Skinner who has been sitting around, finding himself deep in these paranoid thoughts. His own inactivity has made him eager to guess what others are up to when it’s likely that they’re just like him. They’re all on their phones: connected to information but not humanity. There’s an underlying paranoia and depression in his voice, but there’s also a penchant sense of humor, where he manages to drop wisdom in-between his snide remarks:

You call and call my phone, thinking I’m doing nothing better

I'm just waiting for it to stop so I can use it again

Love isn't a riddle, love isn't made to be hard

You know I'd give you my kidney, just don't ever take my charger

His jokes are subtler than ever but they carry a stronger weight throughout the theme of the album. It may sound like this is a nihilistic romp through England 2020, but it’s more of a yearning for normalcy to return. You can sense that this is an album of concern, and one that finds him creating vitality with every note. 

In the album’s title song, he equates the everyday struggle as a reason to respect each other. If you’re annoyed about your boss or even traffic, don’t let it get you down. Things may be terrible now, but we need to get through this mortal coil together, needing to work together to make change. There is a purpose behind the lyrics that makes it easily connected to love songs and politics, reflecting his affection for England that becomes even more clear in “I Wish You Loved You As Much As You Love Him.” 

Considering how purposeful the opening song is about blocking out distractions and becoming more productive, it makes sense that “Him” could be seen as a negative and abusive boyfriend or parliament. He never outright says it, but the sense that things can only change once you move on to something more supportive, it becomes clear that there’s a double entendre at play here that is a whole lot of fun. For a song about independence, it is a whole lot of fun. As Greentea Peng sings in the bridge:

All the same

At the end of the day

It ain't a fair exchange

He always says he'll change

Can't you see it's no use?

You gotta cut off all these things that are not serving you

On the flip side is “You Can’t Afford Me,” which converses with the outsider by saying “If you don’t know how much I am worth, Then you can’t afford me.” 

For the majority of the album, he is existing in this duality, creating something essential to his career. It’s a purposeful album that plays with ideas in such a way that you become intrigued by every line. To spend some time with The Streets is to witness someone who is trying to mature into a successful adult and find true happiness. This is a story about the self as it is the country, looking at the world around him and taking notes of how he’d want to change things. There isn’t a single takedown on the whole album. All there is is criticism on how to better yourself, and he sells it with these unexpected collaborations that pop with an enjoyable pep.

Towards the end of the album, Skinner evolves from these pseudo-love stories to something more direct. It’s also one of the loosest tracks, finding him breaking from his more conventional narratives to play with ideas. “Conspiracy Theory Freestyle” finds a criticism on what it’s like to give into ideas that could equate to “fake news.” As has been present throughout most of the album, a phone returns as this symbolism; a device that alienates us even as it holds information. But what exactly is true?

You know the truth like your phone knows the time

You set it and forget, but you forget to know why

All of history is a set of frickin' lies

Agreed on by men and their decision-making wives

We pace and blame each other, fears raced to be saved by mother

I could take or leave this fun, no time to be taken, make for it, run

One can hope that Skinner is using sarcasm to get to his point, believing that he needs to break through and give everyone some sense. In a time where everyone is talking about who gets to write history, it feels timely to have Skinner discuss conspiracy theories and their negative impacts on society. After all, that is a subtext to this whole album: a cell phone that has created worlds that keep us apart. It’s almost ingenious that it’s counterbalanced by duets, where the album constantly shifts purposefully with each move. 

As the closing song would say “Take me as I am, or watch me as I go.” This is his parting thought. In another context, it’s a confidence cry that usually makes you seem delusional, full of terrible ideas that build into the cult of personality. However, the past 40 minutes have found Skinner arguing about the ideas that separate us, keeping us from seeing the potential of ourselves and the world. It’s self-assuring in the best ways possible, and evidence of why he’s back.

Even if this is about U.K. politics, the ideas feel just as prominent stateside. We’re still struggling with phone addiction, “fake news” has become an hourly complaint, and there is a divide as to whether we should obey protocol. In a more literal sense, it’s easy to see the title “None of Us Are Getting Out of This Alive” as a cautionary tale for this moment, that we should respect the value of life and appreciate each other’s input. If we don’t, it’s all a self-destructive process that goes against any prior nihilism Skinner may have had. In its place is reason, serving as one of the more purposeful and nuanced protest albums that could substitute for a relationship record.

Again, the beats and melodies at times are an acquired taste and it often fails to sound like a conventional pop album. With that said, The Streets has always been more about the message underneath, and there’s plenty to like here. There’s plenty of commentary sandwiched underneath the humor and witty lyrics. This sounds like you’re hanging out, banging out beats in Skinner’s basement, and it has this rigid success. The longer it sits with you, the more that you appreciate what has just been done.

Of course, that is the difference between rap in the U.K. and America. Nowadays, a protest album, like Run the Jewels’ “RTJ4,” needs to be confrontational, lacking subtlety and feeling like a punch to the chest. You have to feel the message right away, and that’s definitely worth considering. However, there’s something just as endearing about The Streets playing to emotions, finding the humanity in a world that’s losing it that is just as affecting. It’s true that Britain is going through many different problems (and thus the urgency may alter), but somehow “None of Us Is Getting Out of This Alive” feels universal, reflecting struggles of the everyday. It’s a pandemic album, a love story, an independence journey, and a political album desiring change. It’s everything in one, and it’s amazing to know how well The Streets succeeds in delivering their message once again.