For all the talk about the influence media wield on the public at-large, it wasn't in evidence last Friday night at Philadelphia's Trocadero Theater. When DJ Wonder started his set, the club wasn't even partially full, and folks trickled in from the lobby out of curiousity, seemingly uncertain whether or not Dizzee Rascal had taken the stage. Considering the amount of press grime has gotten in the past several months in online and elsewhere, to say nothing of the accolades dating back to its stateside origins in Boy in Da Corner and The Streets critically acclaimed releases, it's a wonder that more people aren't interested in it.

Perhaps it's because it's not viewed as hard enough, but Dizzee did get PaulPierce'd shortly after Boy was announced, and for all the talk about R.A., Ill Bill and Gore-tex, I still hear a lot of ruminating on what a tragedy Columbine was, which doesn't do much to pull me into the harder edged stuff at home - sure we could probably use better gun control and have better (read: some) mental health screening here in the States, but this isn't what interests me in HipHop. On the other hand, grime's not reaching a dance audience either, despite its soundsystem bass, IDM basics and increasing tilt toward jungle. When Vice came through with their brief tour in support of Run The Road, it was poorly promoted, was at a terrible location, and they had bad weather - yet both Dizzee and Vice packed the house elsewhere.

Since Philadelphia slept when Dizzee last stopped here, it seemed a promising alternative to the Bonnie Prince as Superwolf played across town. I wasn't disappointed. Dizzee engaged the audience with his charm and willingness to educate, to say nothing of his charismatic performance. The workmanship that came across in his set showed how difficult it can be even in the information age to communicate a transatlantic trend.

An imagined community is another way of describing a scene, and the ascendant detachment is something that can't convey the energy and excitement one might find discovering artists on mixtapes and then seeing them perform at university parties - especially the initial enthusiasm when an artist breaks. Maybe Dizzee and Wiley are sacrificial lambs for Lady Sovereign and Kano - I dunno - but it would be a shame if there were tossed into the recycling bin with yesterday's papers. While the Internet has eliminated the barriers of geography and thus rapidly expanded any local scene into a potential phenomenon anywhere, allowing people to hear music and learn about their scenes automatically, it seems that it's a phenomenon that's still jetlagged. Of course, if immigration rules and work visas are tightened in the fascist vice, this may be a moot point; if so, long live the new flesh!