In this current egomaniacal era of hip-hop, when Kendrick Lamar and Drake are stamping their feet over who the better rapper is and when Jay-Z compares being called a “capitalist” to the N-word, it is almost reassuring to have a potent reminder of the incendiary power of rap for a greater good – from a furious little Australian album. Dobby, the Murrawarri-Filipino drummer and rapper (he calls himself a “drapper”), has put out what might be the most genuinely radical hip-hop album of the year, titled Warrangu: River Story, which is about the degradation of the Murray-Darling Basin. But the 30-year-old – real name Rhyan Clapham – doesn’t view his strangely brilliant, pedagogic album as a step that far from the millionaire rappers in their mansions, high on their own supply. “There are four elements of hip-hop music: graffiti, breakdancing, DJ and rap. We have the same things in Aboriginal cultures. Ochre is our graffiti. Our DJ is didge player, our yidaki. Our dancing is our corroboree. And our song lines are our rap music,” he says. “Hip-hop is a language, so it can be educational. It can be misogynistic, materialistic, exploitative. But it’s also a powerful resistance tool because it’s bound to our lives and it is whatever we make of it.” He cracks a smile: “So using it for protest is just as valid as using it to diss Drake.” Ever since he began rapping as a 12-year-old, banging pens on tables before he could play drums, Dobby’s project has been to use hip-hop for education. His 2020 single I Can’t Breathe became part of the soundtrack of Australia’s Black Lives Matter movement. “Hip-hop is the best tool we have,” he says. “I really believe it is the future.” Dobby’s family has deep ties to country around Brewarrina, New South Wales; his great-grandfather was born underneath a birthing tree on the Culgoa River. The region is known by some as the Murrawarri Republic: a micro-nation that declared its independence from Australia in 2013 when an elder, Uncle Fred Hooper, approached both Queen Elizabeth II and the United Nations to recognise its sovereignty. (They did not, but that doesn’t matter much when Murrawarri citizens don’t recognise the British monarchy either.) It is a land of strident political action, Dobby says, and he is another example in a proud line: “I’m not a water expert by any stretch. I’m a proud Murrawarri man who has ancestral ties to this river. With whatever knowledge that I have, I’m willing to be able to take this all the way to parliament. People’s lives are on the line.” His album Warrangu – the word for river, water source or creek in the Ngemba language – details the degradation of the three rivers that form tribal boundaries in Brewarrina: the Bogan River to the south, the Culgoa River in the north and the Barwon River to the east. Billions of litres have been stolen from the Murray-Darling Basin, with a few prosecutions resulting in fines. But water quality has also dropped, as have dissolved oxygen levels – resulting in historic fish kills, like the one last year in the Menindee lakes when a million dead fish clogged the water, stinking and decomposing in the sun. Some scientists have braved being reprimanded to make direct links between agricultural misuse and the state of the river systems. This is what Dobby wants people to understand: riverbeds aren’t dry just because the world is getting hotter, but because of deliberate theft. “Irrigators hide their face, from the papers,” he raps on Matter of Time. “This our nation / Watergate investigation / Rivers taken / Look at what we facing / All the fish are dead in the Murray-Darling Basin … Nothing for cotton / it’s nickels and dimes / Nobody stopping them doing it twice.” When the fish died in Menindee in 2019, Dobby realised his album couldn’t only be “a cultural honouring of the rivers”, but had to “become a call to action”. “This is the most political, quote-unquote, that I’ve ever been,” he says. “Because I’m dealing with something that’s more than just my Aboriginality, my race, my Filipino-ness. I don’t consider that to be political, because that’s just telling my story. “This water is our lifeblood. It is not just important for people but all of our river life – our fish, birds, trees. And even though the river is high at the moment, we’re still seeing over-irrigation happening before our very eyes, and under the rug. We’re going to keep running into turmoil if we don’t look at the state of these rivers now.” Last year, Indigenous elders around Brewarrina told the Guardian that they were exhausted, having fought so hard for so many years. But Dobby hopes to inspire some younger voices to pick up the fight. Sign up for the fun stuff with our rundown of must-reads, pop culture and tips for the weekend, every Saturday morning “Hip-hop is a powerful tool to remind people to see past the crap. I hope the album sparks conversation. I want to bring back the journalists, I want to see more action taken. And even if you don’t know much about what’s happening and just want to enjoy the music, I want to help people understand.” For what it’s worth, the music is very enjoyable: there are pied butcherbird calls remixed over grand string sections, and piano interludes reminiscent of those on The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (“100,000% an inspiration”, Dobby says), in which Indigenous elders speak about the rivers. Dobby’s beautiful piano lingers underneath, almost like an echo. There are Murrawarri and Ngemba words sprinkled throughout the album; Murrawarri is considered extinct now, apart from some audio recordings, and Ngemba is critical endangered. But a hip-hop album is one way to immortalise them. “I’m looking forward to this being a body of work that I put out, because – well, I can rest,” Dobby says, and laughs. (He doesn’t rest much.) “I can refer back to it forever. To be able to learn how to speak my language through it, and then have it memorised and immortalised by other people – what a beautiful gift that hip-hop can be.” Dobby’s songs to live by Each month, we ask our headline act to share the songs that have accompanied them through love, life, lust and death. What was the best year for music, and what five songs prove it? I’m very biased, but 2003 was an incredible win: Seven Nation Army (White Stripes), Hey Ya! (Outkast), Crazy In Love (Beyoncé), Frontin’ (Pharrell Williams) and 99 Problems (Jay-Z). What’s the song you wish you wrote, and why? It’s Alright Ma, I’m Only Bleeding by Bob Dylan. It’s a folk song with the most perfect lyrical structure and rhyme scheme that could work wonders in hip-hop music. What is the last song you sang in the shower? Euphoria by Kendrick Lamar. What is the song you have listened to the most times this year? Not Like Us by Kendrick Lamar. What is your go-to karaoke song, and why? Without Me by Eminem or Scrubs by TLC. Both certified bangers. What is a song you loved as a teenager? I’m Yours by Jason Mraz. I have a strong memory of walking through the Wollongong botanical gardens listening to this song, thinking of my high school crush. What song do you want played at your funeral, and why? I can’t provide just one – the shortlist would be: Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright by Bob Dylan, The Times They Are A-Changing by Bob Dylan, Time: The Donut of the Heart by J Dilla, Cause by Rodriguez, Positive Paradise by Clea and Lake Loser by Jackie Brown Jr. What is the best song to have sex to, and why? Ummm … Pretty Please by Dua Lipa. Just listen and see for yourself. Dobby’s debut album Warrangu: River Story is out now