f course I’m going to compare the Audio Bullys to The Streets. Both groups represent a certain level of enlightened slackerdom, they’ll skip class to get high, but they’ll be the star pupils when they finally attend. Plus, both groups are among the rare breed of decent British rappers.

The two groups are quite different though. While Skinner tends to concentrate on more linear narratives, the Bullys live more in the moment. The rap that ends the first song on the Bully’s new album is a good example of this. “Fresh to crust, steel to rust... in to out, rain to drought, sleep to dream” Simon Franks creates a near endless string of nonsensical comparisons. You’ll pick out humorous parts, but you don’t really have to pay attention to the whole song to do so.

“It was early, I woke up, still had a joint, so I puffed”: these lines are the ones that come closest to Skinner. They begin “100 Million,” but this is a song more content on moving our bodies than manipulating our minds. In this way, the Bullys are much more apt to capture us immediately than the Streets. But do they have the staying power? The lyrics aren’t particularly dated, and the beats seem good enough, great in some places.

The first half of the album concerns itself with dance anthems. The second half, though it is not without its groovy leanings, concentrates on the more solemn side of things. “Snow” begins with strange, dissonant sirens. These bizarre screeching sounds turn into horn samples, which, though they never quite resolve themselves, manage to work up an atmosphere of a nauseated euphony. The beat is pushed around and forced into itself. The lyric “All of the people I know seem to be caught up in the snow” is repeated. As the song builds itself up, a series of pauses are used to great effect, we can really sense the protagonist watch his universe struggle about in fevered stasis.

The only real lyrical missteps in the album come in “I Come to Your House.” As the words try to describe a young woman living her life- they seem too simple to work. “Dancing in your car, putting on your bra, tell a joke ha ha, but will it get that far?” don’t seem particularly brilliant. The beat and the refrain are pretty great, but some of the verses are lackluster.

Ego War is an album that will fill the dance floor and satisfy your head, walking home from the party at 3 AM. Highly recommended.