Mike Skinner, the man behind The Streets, is a matter of fact fellow. Lounging hung over on the roof of his Los Angeles hotel the day after his El Rey performance, he seems every bit the traveling rock star. He isn't given to doting on himself too much, at least not in this state. His music, a nouveaux take on hip-hop has lit up the British charts and begun quite a stir in the United States. However, despite the ease with which The Streets have ascended to popularity abroad, in America, the road is a bit less smooth. In a country prone to stratifying and dissecting categories of music, the rap cum reggae cum hip-hop sound Mike is throwing down is boggling to most journalists eager to lump him in the Eminem category. I ask Mike about his views on the race relations of hip-hop in America,

"I think the only time any one talks about race is when I come to America because no one's ever said anything about it in England. I mean garage is considered a black music form like drum n'bass was when it started but it's still not unusual to have white people involved with it."

The point Skinner makes is poignant. With all of America's ethnocentricity it is often easy to forget that other cultures don't view artists along the same racially segregated lines that our culture tends to. On the other hand however, if one looks to the roots of the soul movement or funk, which evolved into modern day hip-hop, written histories of these forms of music clearly state that they represented the voice of the black identity at a time when nothing out there really did. Artists such as James Brown or Marvin Gaye, whose songs are all too familiar to us now, were considered controversial at the time their records were released for their messages of black pride and social awareness.

I play devil's advocate a bit with Skinner and point out that the kids I work with in Compton probably wouldn't be predisposed to take rap music as seriously coming from someone who is white. It's easy for them to look at someone like Eminem rapping skillfully about his struggles in Detroit and comment to me, "Oh yeah, like he suffered." The real statement underlying what they're saying however, is that hip-hop is a music they feel belongs to them. Skinner thoughtfully replies,

"I think there are people out there who have had hard lives, black or white. If I'm honest, I don't think I've had a hard life really. I've never really gone without but it doesn't make me less of a musician and less able to express myself. I can understand why people from Compton or whatever would feel like that. However, I think that rap music..." He pauses to choose his words carefully. "I get the feeling that it's not about who's making the best record it's about who comes from the grimiest place which, to me, has nothing to do with it."

A bold statement yet brilliant well put. Finding the balance is a delicate road. However, it is important to remember that music is the voice for the voiceless first and foremost, be they black or white. As shamefully as this country segregated its citizens, it would be just as unfortunate to overly qualify our music denying certain categories from participation by others. For ideally, isn't the idea behind musical recognition to give honor to those who have proven themselves by their skills and not their cultural bias?

Digressing from the issue, I ask Mike his views on the current state of global affairs. Considering he's terribly hung over, I should probably be buttering him up with fluffy questions about sex or drugs but in light of current events it seems kind of banal. Surprisingly, he doesn't seem bothered to offer up his opinion.

"I think that America is the most powerful country in the world and better it be America than a lot of other countries, but I still think they need to improve their foreign policy. Step back from the situations a bit more, be a bit more like a mother would be. I think that the Europeans, for all the power that they don't have, are quite a lot more liberal."

Something about the words: "for all the power that they don't have", strikes me when he says it. Perhaps it was the sadness of the statement or its abject humility, but it stays with me. I tell Mike that this sense of incapability he refers to is one that resonates with many Americans who oppose the current war and who, perhaps for the first time in their lives, are encountering the same sense of helplessness that so many other countries feel.

Fleeing the impending headache Skinner will likely develop with such continued heady conversation, we segue into talk of his musical success and influences. In regards to his recent fame, Skinner's views on the whole thing are surprisingly... normal.

"It grows a lot slower in reality according to my perspective but its years of work. It was one thing after another that just grew and grew and grew. I never really got involved in all this to be famous. I never thought it would get to this. However, I think above the level I'm at now it starts to get crazy and I don't want it to get too crazy."

As I'm about to switch off the tape recorder, I ask Skinner what one question has he never been asked by a journalist. He retorts that I'd be hard pressed to think of one. So I ask simply what his favorite drink is.

"Brandy, no particular brand, can't really tell the difference. Well, I can kinda tell when it's really cheap and I can kinda tell when it's really expensive but outside of that they all taste the same." He smiles then places his hand over his eyes to block out a bit of harsh sunlight.