Three-plus decades of hip-hop have yet to produce a credible white female rapper -- and no, whatever that spoken-word foolishness Madonna was doing on her 2003 album ''American Life" does not count.
Yes, there have been a few, but generally their careers have evaporated faster than you can say Great White Hype. Does anyone remember Sarai? Exactly.
Yet, the woman poised to become a hip-hop pioneer couldn't seem more unlikely. She's a tough-minded 19-year-old Londoner who stands a sigh over 5 feet tall and goes by the regal moniker Lady Sovereign. Influenced as much by Britain's vibrant garage scene as American hip-hop, Sov, as she likes to be called, hopes to achieve what has so far eluded such equally celebrated British rappers as Dizzee Rascal and Mike Skinner of the Streets: breakthrough success in this country.
''I want it, I want a career in America. I think that's what everyone wants really, isn't it?" Sov says during a recent telephone interview from London. ''It's important, and I want to get out to as many people as I can. But it's scary because it's happening so quick. I don't know -- it's all mad."
Lady Sovereign performs at the Middle East Upstairs Monday.
For months, such Sov tracks as ''Ch Ching" and ''9 to 5" have been bouncing around the Internet, but her American arrival became official this month with the release of her EP, ''Vertically Challenged." Bolstered mostly by remixes, including Beastie Boy Ad-Rock's take on ''A Little Bit of SHHH," it's a taste of Sov's considerable skills. ''Ch Ching" is ridiculously good, and, at her best, Sov, with her tart lyrics and the peculiar twists she throws in her flow, can sound a lot like Missy Elliott -- and no one sounds like Missy Elliott.
It certainly doesn't hurt that Sov so impressed rapper Jay-Z, who is also president of Def Jam Records, that he signed her to the label (which is owned by Island Records) and will release her full-length debut in the spring. After a New York performance, she was summoned to Def Jam offices for a meeting, which became an audition of sorts when Jay-Z told Sov to ''spit something on the spot."
''It was mad. For Jay-Z to call out my name and like my music was weird," Sov recalls. ''I was nervous -- I'm not going to lie. We spoke for a little bit, then he asked me to do some lyrics. I was like 'Aarrgh!' That just freaked me out, but it was cool."
Still, impressing a hip-hop legend is one thing. Getting through to American hip-hop fans is something else entirely.
''Whether her audience is in the mainstream hip-hop scene or alternative kids get into it, I don't particularly care, so long as someone gets it, because I think she's amazing," says Rob Stevenson, Island Def Jam's executive vice president for artists and repertoire. ''I hope she can bring something to hip-hop that widens the breadth of styles and opens it up to a new sound."
Yet Nick Sylvester, an associate editor at Pitchfork Media, an online music journal, says hip-hop is infatuated with the commercialization of urban stereotypes.
''So the main problem [facing Sov] might be relevance -- it's completely insider," he says.
British hip-hop doesn't lack authenticity, just easy reference points for American listeners, Sylvester says. Add to that the fact that Sov is ''a young, white, British girl" and ''that's a lot to get over," he says.
Born Louise Harman, Sov is used to being underestimated. Raised in northwest London in what was once one of the city's most notorious council estates (a posh term for public housing), she was booted from school at age 15. With too much time on her hands, she began writing lyrics and posting her songs on the Internet.
''My mum always listened to hip-hop, so when I was a kid I always heard it, and I got into it myself," she recalls. ''I listened to everyone but personally got into Cash Money, Three 6 Mafia, Cuban Link. I listened to pirate radio and I heard MCs on there trying to do their thing."
When Sov takes the stage, grabs the microphone, and does her thing, folks usually don't know what to make of her. And she loves when unsuspecting people stereotype her as a pop act or a hip-hop wannabe before hearing a single rhyme.
''The whole being small thing -- I love it," says Sov, who jokingly proclaims herself ''the white midget." ''It's a good look, d'ya know what I mean, because it's unexpected. It's cool. People who watch my shows and don't know who I am are always surprised."
Less surprising are facile comparisons to Eminem, Skinner, or, as she says, ''anyone who's white."
''I wish they'd stop it," she says. ''I'm just me, I'm my own person. I don't like it when people categorize me or compare me to people because it confuses people. I'm different, and I'm doing my thing. I'm not trying to be like anyone."
That's one of the best things about British hip-hop. Every year, another great artist emerges, such as M.I.A. earlier this year, and it seems just a matter of time before one of them is topping the American charts.
''It's always evolving," Sov says of her homeland's hip-hop scene. ''We've got all these sounds and all these people kickin' off here. I think it's cool to hear what we've got to offer.
''It's very modern, and we're not trying to copy American hip-hop. I reckon, in the next year, we'll be dominating America," she says with a laugh. ''It needs to happen, really."![]()