“Manchester, do you ever feel vexed?” shouts a certain Bow-born Rascal as he bonds with the Northern posse. It’s a windy evening in Manchester and hoards of hard-looking, bling-wearing Mancs have come to pay homage to a teenager “from the streets” who’s made it to the big time.

As soon as Dizzee Rascal steps on stage the crowd erupts. Effortlessly cool, the 19-year old teenage predictably takes a seat for the whole of ‘Sittin’ Here’, the first track off ‘Boy in Da Corner’, the album that turned him into a star and won him the Mercury Music Prize award only last year. Racing through tracks like ‘Jezebel’ and ‘Jus’ a Rascal’, his stage presence is undeniable, but it’s the speed of his delivery that blows you away. He might as well be speaking in tongues for those not completely au fait with his lyrics – yet scanning the packed, skunk smoke-screened Academy, it’s obvious the mixture of middle-class university wiggers and council estate crews have remembered his rhymes off by heart, a la Smash Hits style.

Dizzee is a pretty good way to describe the way your head feels after one of his gigs. Everything is at such a frenetic pace you almost feel schizophrenic. Cleverly lulling you into a false sense of security with his raw and surprisingly melodic beats; he rips the working class Persian rug from under your feet when you least expect it. Dancing to Dizzee is clearly an art form. If you can wave your middle finger you’re half way there. Promoting ‘Showtime’, his second album, Dizzee tries to marry old and new but unfortunately the tunes from his eagerly awaited new album fall short of expectations. The beginning and end are the best bits of his set with the middle only bearable because you’re able to check out the enthralling and scary individuals he attracts to his gigs, and look on as another bouncer knocks you flying as a he chases a scally from the Cheetham Hill possee who’s kicked off. Feeling on edge is part and parcel of experiencing Dizzee Rascal. If you’re not working class or from a council estate you feel slightly left out. It’s also rather sad that a young guy with such a huge talent could find his moment in the limelight a little briefer than he intended because of a poor second album.

Since when has ‘Happy Talk’, originally sung by Captain Sensible, been the anthem for troubled youths?

words: Rachel Bristowe