"Babylon" (Hak Baker): An Odyssey on The Isle of Dogs

Hak Baker hails from the Isle of Dogs in East London. It is a special place with a wild past, present and future, and if you've ever lived there, you would have felt its uniqueness. As a peninsula, surrounded by the curve of the Thames, with large docks cutting through the mainland, the water is a core feature of its history. In the 19th century, the Isle of Dogs was the centre of the world, receiving merchant ships from India to the Caribbean, and the dockworkers and their families that came to settle became proud and community-oriented peoples. The London dock strike in 1889 is a famous example of that, when 100,000 strikers were victorious in their attempts to establish better working conditions and reveal the harsh realities of life in Victorian Britain. The strike was a landmark event for labour rights in the UK, because of the strong trade unions that formed in the aftermath, and also helped to reinforce the locals' vocal and resilient identity.

This determined disposition had to be maintained throughout the 20th century, because most of the people living on the Island were well below the breadline. After heavy bombing by the Luftwaffe in WW2, (the docks were especially targeted and you can still find the anti-aircraft guns on Mudchute farm), thousands were crammed into cheap rebuilds with little to no public services on offer, and just the one bus to take you on and off the Island. Thankfully, though, there were always plenty of pubs to choose from. In 1970, because of mass unemployment and social deprivation, the residents had decidedly had enough. Inspired by events in Rhodesia a few years before, the Isle of Dogs published a Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI) from the UK and elected local campaigner Ted Johns as its president. They did this by blocking off the two swing bridges that connected either side of the Island to the rest of London, so that no one could get on or off and cargo ships could not enter the docks, and hundreds of Islanders joined in protest. The independent state became so popular that it gathered international media attention, and the Island's president and prime ministers were invited to 10 Downing Street to discuss their grievances. (This is when plans for redevelopment were first devised.) In the end, the Republic of the Isle of Dogs lasted just ten days, and was all a bit of a joke, but it was the Islanders' hilarious way of getting their point across. (Although not everyone was thrilled – local shopkeeper David Jordan denounced it a 'dictatorship'). Its brilliance lay in its shrewd attempt to assemble the rest of the world to a place that had largely been forgotten.

Sadly, this stunt was not enough to improve prospects on the Island. Later that decade, the introduction of large shipping containers that could only be stored further down the Thames, at Tilbury Docks where the river ran wider, caused the Docklands economy to stagnate. The area needed regenerating, and it led Maggie Thatcher, with her ruthless policies of privatisation, to look opportunistically eastwards. In the late 1980s, Islanders witnessed the eruption of a hypermodern, monolithic financial district on their doorstep, pushing many of the original residents out. Today, dozens of skyscrapers now stare dead eyed like Moai statues over the Island and beyond.

My parents moved onto the Isle of Dogs in 1999 when I was just a few months old, from Rotherhithe just south of the river. I have happy memories running round a newly built development on the southern tip of the Island, watching the fire brigade opposite my bedroom window, sailing (and capsizing) on the docks, and messing about with my mates at Arnhem Wharf school. We eventually left in 2008, having witnessed the early expansion of Canary Wharf in the background. Now that I reflect on it, I was part of a new wave that came about through the regeneration of the area. But even then, the Island looked nothing like it does presently – horrible, lifeless in parts – but that's just the natural progression of unhinged capitalism. The Isle of Dogs' rawness, it's rebellious spirit, has largely been swallowed up, unable to fight back against the tidal wave of private enterprise.

But Hak Baker's "Babylon" has the big money megalomaniacs in a chokehold, bringing to life tales of a youth that was carefree and exciting, against a backdrop of opportunism and self-interest. He represents all that is proud and self-respecting about the original Islanders, unafraid to speak his piece. The sound is some entirely novel ska/punk-inspired rudie-folk music, delivered in a propa cockney accent. It is incredible. Hak describes the various mischiefs he caused running about the Island with his mates, getting into trouble with the law and whatnot. You come away feeling uplifted by a defiant need to just have a good laugh.

The 12 tracks:

'Big House' is the first track on the mixtape and is all about life with money v. life with no money, sarcastically singing "Bet it's great, bet it sweet, bet it's lovely." We're immediately introduced to the fingerpicking guitar sound that is so iconic and plays a leading role throughout.

'Lad' is a bit more intense, highlighting the peer-pressure you experience as a young man and the trouble you get into as a result – "If you were a lad, then you'd risk it all and you'd never ever look back". Here he displays the 'it is what it is' attitude that characterises the East End, living with no care for the next day.

'Broomstick', the third tune, is pure delirium, and the aftermath of an eventful weekend out getting sloshed.

'Mush', is a search for balance after the previous two songs, trying to work things out with his G-I-R-L. They're always at odds but still full of affection.

'Venezuela Riddim' is arguably the biggest tune of the 12, made so by the dreamlike sounds of a saxophone and a tidy piano riff that reminds you how life is beautiful. You can hear him singing for his community, hyping the "ladies and gentlemen alike" with "destinies to write".

'PC Plod' is a hilarious tune, and all about the battles with the law. "They dragged me out the battle cruiser (boozer)", "That's the old bill for yaaaaa", "Pull up inside your quarters (sailor reference), Sendin' you for a quarter (prison sentence)". It is an exhilarating, fast-paced folk dance, and one that you will deeply appreciate for its humour.

'Babylon' is more melancholy, but a favourite of mine. "There's no fairy-tales in East London", "Babylon, running this town all of a sudden". Hak mixes the invasive nature of the big money corporations with grievances against his dad for abandoning him as a kid.

'SKINT' is exactly what it says on the tin, with barely a penny for your thoughts.

'Grief Eyes' is a sorrowful but cathartic opening up of bottled emotions, and how difficult life can get for him and his friends. "For seven years, the heartache's been painted on my mates' faces, I guess they feel tainted".

'Fuck You' – well, you can imagine – DO ONE.

'Embargo' is another tune I could have on an endless loop. The slow-paced percussion, the medicated reverb from the electronic piano, and the angered lyricism is just what the doctor ordered.

Last, but not least, is 'Thirsty Thursday', a banger to get you out your seat when you can't wait to get out on the town. "I burn my cash into ashes, every weekend." All in the name of a good laugh.