The Rags-to-riches story of Octavian: french-born UK rapper cosigned by Drake

Drifting back and forth across the English Channel from childhood to adolescence, Franco-British artist Octavian has navigated a winding but enlightening path. Today, he stands as one of the most promising figures in the British music scene, finally relishing his moment of vindication.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN FRENCH ON YARD.MEDIA

The music industry is a ruthless battleground, where success belongs to those who cultivate unwavering confidence in their craft, yet are swiftly labeled as arrogant the moment they dare to express it aloud. There is no space for the weak, nor for those who overestimate their strength. In a constant state of contradiction, artists must exude self-assurance while remaining open to questioning everything they know. "Of course, I believe in God, but believing in yourself is already a religion," affirms French rapper Dosseh in "Pour vous par nous," a track from his latest album Vidalo$$a.

This raises the question: how deep does this seemingly endless well of confidence run? After an exhausting studio session, do artists have an inkling that they’ve just recorded a future hit, or at least the track that will propel them to another level? Do they sense, merely from listening to their own work, that their world is about to shift? Octavian, barely 22 years old at the time, might have seen it coming. "You're gonna blow up, it's just timing," he boldly declared on "Party Here," almost as if he were prophesying his own fate. Released nearly ten months prior on the Views TV channel, the track has since racked up close to a million views, caught the attention of Drake, and granted its creator a definitive escape from the streets into the comfort of a sleek East London apartment. "When I recorded 'Party Here,' I was really poor. I didn’t know I was about to blow up, but it happened because it had to," he recalls, amused. "It had to because I was so broke... I had nothing. Nothing to lose either, which is a big thing. So I thought, ‘Fuck it, you’re gonna blow up, it’s just a matter of time.’"

After all, it seemed almost inevitable that the laurels would rest on Octavian’s head—a name borrowed from the very first Roman emperor. His middle name, Olivier, remains an indelible mark of his French heritage; he was born in Lille. But France was never truly home. He left with his mother at the age of three after his father passed away, only to return as a teenager for a grim stint with a violent uncle. Hardly the ideal circumstances to connect with his birthplace. "When I came back at 14, I was sent to a private school in Lille. It was chill, but it lacked diversity—because, well, it was Lille, and it was private. Especially compared to London, which is a city I love precisely for that reason," he grimaces, effortlessly switching between French and English.

This bleak impression of France lingered until his life took a more fortunate turn and Paris became his "second London." When we meet him under a scorching sun near La Bellevilloise, everything is different. Octavian is preparing for his first-ever Parisian show, just over a week after walking the runway for Virgil Abloh’s Louis Vuitton debut. He recounts the experience with a rookie’s awe: "It was crazy. Everyone was so intimidating. You see Kid Cudi roll in with ten bodyguards… Of course, it’s impressive. And it’s hard to talk to anyone there. But by the end of it, people can tell you’re part of it. So they assume you’re someone. At the Louis Vuitton show, no one was above anyone else. We were all together, and that’s exactly what Virgil wanted from the start."

If Octavian was shuffled between France and England, it’s because he’s never been one to bow to authority or hierarchy. He embarked on a relentless quest for "freedom"—a word that surfaces repeatedly in our conversation. He refuses to be answerable to anyone: not teachers, not employers, not even parental figures. Conflict was inevitable. He frustrated his English teachers to the point of being sent to France by his mother. Clashed with his uncle until his stay in Lille was cut short. Drifted from place to place until he ended up on the streets. "There’s so much that my mom—and moms in general—don’t realize. They want you to make it, but… quietly, without taking risks. But you have to take risks. Even just for yourself. You need to prove things to yourself more than to anyone else," the lanky rapper reflects.

At Belleville’s Belvédère, Octavian takes a moment to soak in the Parisian skyline, lighting a cigarette in the process. The heat is stifling. He unzips his thick white jacket, revealing the word "Bizarre" tattooed across his chest. "Because I am bizarre," he says without hesitation. "It’s weird to never want to listen to anyone, right? In everyday life, everyone wants to fit in. But not me. I want more than that. And for some people, that makes you ‘weird.’" He elaborates: "Sometimes, it’s like we’re programmed to follow the rules. Sure, we need people who listen, who feel comfortable being part of the norm. My parents, my family—they’re ‘normal’ and they’re good people. But I don’t think being ‘normal’ is something to aspire to. You should just be yourself. Be comfortable in your own skin. And for me, that means being free, because I can’t stand being under anyone."

Yet, Octavian has had just enough foresight to ensure that his missteps became opportunities. Getting lost is also a way of discovering new paths, exploring places you never expected, and growing in the process. "You know drum’n’bass?" he asks, flipping the script on our conversation. "I had to go to those raves because I was selling drugs there. But I loved it. I saw people dance for hours on end. And it was good. It’s a whole different scene to study. I adapted to every environment and learned to appreciate all kinds of music." The same goes for France. Octavian has taken the time to familiarize himself with homegrown rap, citing Bon Iver, Jai Paul, and Drake as his most-played artists before unexpectedly name-dropping Booba, La Fouine, and Sexion d’Assaut. Seeing our surprise, he even hums Maître Gims’ chorus from "Mon gars sûr." "I listened to them when I was younger. I was about sixteen," he clarifies.

All these influences—collected almost unintentionally—now feed into Octavian’s music, which refuses to be confined to a single genre. Party Here oscillates between menacing verses and celebratory choruses. His discography, though still sparse, is unpredictable. "Little" could pass for a Travis Scott track, while "Move Me," his collaboration with electro producer Mura Masa, transports listeners deep into a Kingston club. Despite clear British influences, don’t make the mistake of calling Octavian a grime artist. "Grime is Skepta, Wiley—guys like that. And not even today’s Skepta. ‘Shutdown’ Skepta is grime, but ‘Praise the Lord’ Skepta? That’s trap. People just call anything grime when it’s easier to box in UK artists. Same with me—‘Oh, Octavian’s from London? Must be grime.’ But that doesn’t make sense," he argues, shaped by London’s diverse musical landscape.

For his next project, Octavian has already chosen a title: Revenge. "It’s for everyone who told me I’d be nothing. Because I was nothing. So in a way, they were right. But in the end, they were wrong," he grins. Now that the tables have turned, he never misses a chance to stunt on his doubters: every single release comes with a message for them. "Cause I made it and you hate it / So you're gonna lie over me, whine over me, cry over me," he raps on "Hands." It’s as if he draws all his energy—his drive, his creativity—from the negativity surrounding him. Today, Octavian savors his success. When asked about the support he never received from his own mother, he laughs: "I proved her wrong. She was wrong. That’s why I always have to prove myself. My job is to prove my way of thinking is valid. It goes beyond music—it’s really about my mindset."

After over an hour spent suffocating in the stifling Parisian heat, the young artist asks for recommendations on where to shop for some fresh gear. His clothes are drenched, and his newfound success has clearly encouraged him to travel light. "Is there a Stone Island here?" he asks, a true aficionado of the Italian brand. Affirmative. Satisfied with the answer, Octavian turns to his team to make sure the timing will allow for a quick stop before his evening show. Watching him pull a crumpled stack of 50s from his pocket, ready to be spent on an impromptu stage outfit, you can almost taste the sweetness of his revenge. Bittersweet.