Letters to Myself

These sketches of urban life are raw, physical and full of the juicy rhymes of rap English. They come from a nightclub bouncer turned philosophiser, whose towering frame is now slightly stooped as he leans on his gold-topped cane and reflects on scenes in Soho, the Old Kent Road and Brixton. Club life (Nostalgia and Pugilist) and early training – learning the Boston crab from cousin Lance – give way to romantic and other spicy interludes, like Is Tania on Today? (‘Hello John, what do you fancy?’). Doubts about race and identity (They Said. and Chocolate Cockney) are offset by a mellower, more upbeat tone in Charged, Ointment and Music Leader, and the heartfelt affection voiced in Cuba and Africa.

Ha, Spirit’s weapons of choice are no longer the left hook and the big hand in your face; they’re, like he says, a packet of biros, a working journal and a computer terminal. Sure, his words will make you smile, but this ‘writing as cathartic remedy’ (Dr Pen) has quite a few barbs in the balm: ‘just remember, my choice of expletives can psychologically dismember’. So read on, and watch yourself.