His Excellency Stormzy is the black king the UK deserved

After a monumental 2019, Stormzy has further cemented his place in the history of British rap... and continues to pave the way for his peers. Exclusive interview on the occasion of his highly anticipated second album, Heavy Is The Head, released on Friday, December 13.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN FRENCH ON YARD.MEDIA

Stormzy's artistic career is brief. Just six years have passed since the release of his first WickedSkengMan freestyle series, which put him on the radar of grime enthusiasts. That’s not long. Especially considering that before this Friday the 13th, his discography only featured one studio album. Many artists at the same stage are still considered rookies, up-and-comers who people say, “He’s going to make it big.” But not Stormzy.

Talking to him, it quickly becomes clear that despite his young career, the Londoner is already among those who likely inspired him, like JAY-Z—whom he even dared to turn down for a feature. He is one of those figures who embody something bigger, whose words carry weight and whose achievements command respect. And for good reason: since his debut, Stormzy has been writing the still-fresh history of British rap, whose rise seems more imminent than ever.

The first grime artist to top the UK charts with an album. The first Black British rapper to headline the prestigious Glastonbury Festival. The first, period. At 26, Stormzy stands at the summit of the British music landscape. And like a true king, he leads his people towards the heights he now frequents. When Cambridge University admitted in 2018 that a quarter of its 31 colleges had not accepted a single Black student between 2012 and 2016, he launched the Stormzy Scholarships to fight against this underrepresentation. And through his publishing house, Merky Books, he provides Black writers with a much-needed platform to publish their works. This is his way of embracing his responsibilities, no matter how heavy they may be—as reflected in the title of his new album, Heavy Is The Head, released today. This is the life he has chosen.

Between your Glastonbury set, your TIME Magazine cover, and your first two UK number-one singles, 2019 was a huge year for you. Which accomplishment are you most proud of?

Glastonbury, hands down. Headlining Glastonbury was the biggest moment of my life—not just of my 2019. It’s the most glorious thing I’ve ever achieved. That being said, the TIME cover was also a big deal. 2019 was a blessed year for me.

In your TIME interview, you mentioned that before rap, you wanted to be Prime Minister. Have you always wanted to make an impact and change things around you?

You know what? [Laughs] Today, I’d probably say yes, but if I’m being perfectly honest, back then, wanting to be Prime Minister had nothing to do with impact or change or anything like that. It was just about ambition. It was just me as an 8- or 9-year-old kid thinking, “What’s the best job I could have? The best job in the world? That’s it—Prime Minister.” That’s all it was. It was just young me, ambitious, confident in my intelligence and abilities. Thanks to God and my mum, I’ve always known I could be anything I wanted to be. Whether it was Prime Minister, an artist, a CEO, or anything else.

Still, did you ever think that music could allow you to make an impact?

It’s funny because honestly, no. When I started making music, I just wanted to be a successful artist. I wanted to be one of those artists people talk about like, “Yo, have you heard Stormzy’s new track? It’s fire!” I wanted to make music that resonated with a lot of people. Then, bit by bit, I started realizing that I had a platform, an audience, an influence. I never set out to change the world or to have an impact through music—it just became a duty, a purpose over time. It became a responsibility I had to take on, between me and God.

Do you feel like you’re on a mission?

Absolutely. But I think my mission changes depending on the season, depending on what’s happening in my heart, in the world, in my country, or within my community. I don’t have just one mission. That said, if there’s one thing I’m grateful to God for, it’s giving me purpose. Purpose is one of the greatest blessings a man can have. When I commit to something, I never hesitate or do things half-heartedly. The moment I say I’m doing it, there’s no turning back. No “Should I really do this?”—nah, we’re going.

Impact usually comes with power and money. And when we think about wealthy Black figures trying to make a difference, most come from art or sports. As if minorities have no other paths to rise socially. What do you think about that?

On one hand, I think it’s a great thing because we manage to build platforms and be heard. But the way you put it shows the problem clearly. When you think about all these influential figures—JAY-Z in music, LeBron James or Raheem Sterling in sports—it’s amazing, but we also need Black accountants, politicians, CEOs, etc. We need Black people in all these fields. And the fact that we have to reach such extraordinary heights just to have a voice that matters is crazy when you think about it. We can’t just go to college and have a normal career path. It’s like we have no choice but to become JAY-Z or LeBron James—basically, billionaires. And while that’s cool, because sometimes we do, but I think it says a lot about our society.

In your track Crown, you rap: “Try to put a hole in our ships, we’ll build boats”—which really captures how minorities always find ways to rise, even in a society that isn’t built for them.

Exactly. For a long time, we’ve heard things that were intolerable, and all we could do was temper our reactions and keep our heads down. But today, the conversation is different. Like recently, there was all the controversy around Rapman’s film Blue Story being banned from cinemas after an incident at a screening. On one hand, people were saying it was unfair, racist, etc. But on the other hand, there were also people saying, “We need our own cinemas.” They keep shutting doors on us, so we build our own. The thing is, when we create things for our community—like my Stormzy Scholarships—we get asked, “Why is this just for Black people?” But we need it, because no one else is doing it for us. I could just wait there and hope that black students finally get accepted to the best Universities in the country, but it’s doesn’t happen. So what are we supposed to do? We have to take care of ourselves.

And since we’re talking about impact: can you understand that some people just can’t imagine having any, simply by voting? Especially when they don’t trust politicians.

It’s a huge challenge. As much as I’m one of those who speak out a lot about this and encourage people to vote, I still have friends who look me in the eyes and say, “Bro, I ain’t fucking voting.” And I understand. I’ve been on this earth for 26 years, and nothing has really changed for our community, no matter who’s in power. No one has ever magically came and gave a hand to Black people. So it’s hard to convince people that change can come through a vote. A lot of people mistake that for indifference, but in reality, it’s a loss a hope. The fact that my friends don’t to vote doesn’t say anything bad about them—it says more about the government, about those we once believed in. They feel like their vote has no impact because it never has. No matter who they voted for.

Even though "nothing has ever really changed," you still did everything you could to get as many people as possible to vote, and you also supported a specific candidate.

Because it was something that had been weighing on my mind and heart for a while. I’m almost going to speak as a spokesperson, but I understand better than anyone why my people don’t vote. I know we don’t trust any of these politicians. I know none of them have ever helped the working class, Black people, or the underprivileged. But there’s this guy, Jeremy Corbyn, whom I believe in. That’s what I told my brothers. And it’s not blind trust, based on promises or illusions. No, I listened to him, watched him, studied him, went back to see what he had said in the past, and I ended up telling him: “You’re fighting for things that align with what people in my community feel, and what they’d like to see happen, so you have my support.” And that means a lot.

In 2015, Kanye West gave a monumental performance at the BRIT Awards with many grime artists—including you. It was a huge moment, commented on worldwide, putting England and its artists in the spotlight. But that performance also led to that moment in Skepta’s track “Shutdown,” where a woman complained about seeing Black men dancing “aggressively” on British TV. Two completely different perspectives. How do you explain a country being so blind to its own greatness?

What’s funny about Kanye’s performance at the BRITs is that, for the British audience, it was something unbelievable. It wasn’t just one Black guy on stage, there were 30, 40, 50 of us, all dressed in black… You see what I mean? They didn’t even see it as an art form, or an incredible performance. To them, it was just a bunch of Black guys on stage. And it’s even funnier because recently, I saw this brilliant performance by Dua Lipa. It was at the MTV EMAs, and she killed it. She was on stage, surrounded by about 60 girls, most of them white. And I thought to myself, “This image isn’t shocking at all.” No one finds it scary or anything. But when it’s Black people in hoodies, it’s a whole different story. Again, it just reflects society and how people perceive things. It runs deep. It shows what people instinctively feel when they see Black people.

Until not so long ago, the UK had Form 696, which required promoters to inform authorities about the "ethnic origin of the audience" at their events. Today, UK drill is being blamed for the wave of violence in London. Why does Black music and culture seem to be met with more suspicion in England than in France or the U.S.?

I’m not entirely sure how it is in France, but what I love about you guys is that whenever I hear one of your rappers, it’s raw. You can feel that it’s not censored or anything.

… and yet, those tracks still get played on the radio and are widely popular. That’s not necessarily the case in England.

But that’s exactly it—I think the UK is just starting to reach that stage. The thing is, for a long time in England, they pulled the curtain over Black people. We weren’t supposed to be too visible. And it’s only now that England is starting to embrace this part of its culture and population, and that’s being reflected in the mainstream, with radio stations playing our tracks, etc. But as for drill supposedly being "responsible for violence in London," no. Music is always a reflection of its time, of what people are going through. Just like you have indie rock bands talking about drugs, sex, cocaine, and no one says it’s caused an entire generation to trash hotel rooms or overdose. No one blames indie rock for that. It’s always a matter of perception, and more specifically, how Black people are seen.

Whether through its music or TV shows like Top Boy, UK culture is making more and more noise beyond its borders. Paradoxically, the country seems to be getting more conservative, closing in on itself. How do you explain that?

I guess the youth has a lot to do with it. Because the country becoming more conservative—that’s tied to a certain age group, a specific demographic. But young people don’t want to hear that stuff. That’s why grime, drill, and rap are taking up more and more space. Because they are the voices of the youth. The purest, most honest, and most real—way more than any of these politicians. Us young people, we don’t believe in their bullshit. We don’t want anything to do with it. We want our own voices, our own platforms. And all of that goes hand in hand with so-called “underground” cultures.

When people talk about the UK music scene, your numbers show that you’re the king. And the title of your new album, Heavy Is The Head, seems to reference that status. What can you tell me about it?

This title—it’s a title I share because there can only be one king in England. As rappers, we love competition, claiming we’re the best, but we know there are many of us doing our thing and doing it well. Everyone is trying to be the best. As for the album, the title is more about me, who, throughout my journey, has always prayed for responsibilities, duties, influence—all these things that ended up falling on me. In a way, I feel like a king, and I think that should be the case for everyone. As Black people, everything has been done to make us feel inferior our entire lives… We are kings. I’m a king, Dave is a king, J Hus is a king, MoStack is a king, Krept & Konan are kings. We’re each kings in what we do. To take on all these responsibilities, knowing where we come from, you have to be a king. But Heavy Is The Head also refers to this: sometimes, I’m completely ready to be that person—the one who speaks loudly, the one on the front lines. But sometimes, a king is just a man. And all that weight on our shoulders can be very heavy. Sometimes you wake up and say, “I didn’t sign up for all this.”

Do you ever feel like it’s too much for one man?

Very often. It really is too much. But this is what I signed up for. It’s not like I woke up one morning and all these responsibilities just fell on me. When I look at my journey, I realize this is what I worked for. I wanted to be a person in this position. But as a man, I’m not invincible. At all. And sometimes, I’m just tired of always having to be the one who takes a stand. I never regret standing up for anything because I feel like I’m on the right side, but sometimes I do think, “Damn, there’s a lot of criticism and a lot of people mad about what I said.” But you have to take the good with the bad. And the album is about that. On a good day, I’m your man, and I know I’m built for this. But on a bad day, it terrifies me.

This album, just like the previous one, is very soulful: you sing more and more, there are lots of choirs, instruments, samples, etc. These aren’t sounds you hear on many UK records. What does that say about you?

I’m so glad you pointed that out. What does it say about me? It says that I love music. I’m dedicated to the art, to the idea of becoming a true artist, a brilliant musician. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. All these responsibilities and the things that come with music—that’s one thing. But beyond that, I got into music with the goal of becoming a damn artist. I want my name to go down in history right next to Kanye West, JAY-Z, Beyoncé, Chris Martin, Adele, Frank Ocean. All those sounds, those flavors you hear in my music, it’s just me using different brushes to reach that goal. If I step into the studio and I want to show you that Stormzy is the best rapper in this country, I take a killer beat and go in. But if I want you to feel my sadness, my story, how all of this weighs on me, I have to use another brush to bring different colors to my painting. It’s just proof of my artistic ambition. Thank God, I feel like I’ve become the artist I wanted to be. When I listen to my album, I think, This is really the music I wanted to make, the way I wanted to bring my stories to life.

To wrap up, how could 2020 be an even greater year for you?

[He thinks for a moment.] A world tour. Because thank God, I’ve had the chance to perform all over the world, but I’ve never done a real global tour. I’ve always wanted the world to hear what I have to say. I want the people reading this interview to feel like they understand me better and want to listen to my music afterward. I worked so hard in the studio, spent so much time refining my craft and being proud of what I create that I want the world to hear it. A world tour is me taking this album and bringing it across the globe. “Hello Paris, Dubai, Tokyo, Amsterdam, here’s my art, let me show it to you.” And beyond that world tour, I just want to keep chasing my goals, whatever they may be. I’m very instinctive, I can tell when I’m doing what I’m meant to do. So 2020—more progress. My career has to keep going to the top.