8 minute read
GHOSTPOET
Creating soundtracks to narrate the twists and turns of modern life, Ghostpoet is back with another collection of hymns. But the man behind the music is laying low in isolation, sticking to the methods that make him happy, and most importantly keeping things simple.
"I haven't really woken up yet, I'm not fully firing on all cylinders." I'm talking to Obaro Ejimiwe, known to the masses as Ghostpoet, who I've called on a late Friday morning, though who really knows what day it is anyway. I steer clear of pushing him on his isolation routine however, as he tells me sleepily his days aren't really different from one to the other. Instead, we launch straight into his new release, the aptly named "I Grow Tired But Dare Not Fall Asleep". "I guess I tried to do it in a more concentrated way. Tried to be a bit bolder and tried to talk about things, as per usual, that we're all going through," he tells me as I dive in head first, quizzing him on the inspiration for the album. The 10 track offering is dark, deep and edgy. But it's also packed full of meaning, which is always Obaro's first intention. "We're all going through levels of anxiety and a feeling of not knowing what the future holds and I wanted to reflect that as much as possible." Straight away from the first track, Breaking Cover, Obaros' deep and captivating voice reverberates in your ears, 'I am alive' he sings. Though the album wasn't written in the midst of CoronaVirus, it feels encouraging to hear those words. The rest of the tracks follow suit in the depth they have to offer.
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"Lyrics are important to me. More than just lyrics, it's lyrics with depth and lyrics with meaning. I'm always drawn to that rather than candy floss words" he explains, as I ask him what he wanted to portray with this piece. "I guess I've always been rooted in that world through choice and it just so happens that the world is in a very dark moment. It's tomorrow's world to come. You know, if it was Utopia, a reflection of the 60s and 70s when everyone was loving each other and at peace, then my music would reflect that but it's not the case."
This leads us down the rabbit hole of writing and creative process. "I don't really write in the moment, I write when it's time to write. I may write a line in the moment if something affected me in a particular way. It's rare that I'd write a whole song with that energy. I don't know why. The only things I'm able to retain nowadays are those initial emotions from a song, so I can write something today and then I can come back to it in a year and I will still remember the feelings I felt at the time."
This presentation comes from a conversation about turning pain into art, something most writers will have an opinion on and as this is Ghostpoets fourth studio album, he must have a failsafe way of using his wealth of experience to craft such heart-rending songs.
"I don't know if it's a subconscious thing, but I feel like I want a clearer head. A distance from that emotional feeling to really do it justice. Whenever I've written in the moment I've never been a massive fan of the results. I guess I tried it, but didn't like it." What becomes clear after some back and forth is that Obaro is a perfectionist. Each part of the album has been handpicked and directed with the highest level of scrutiny. After stressing that the music is just as important as the words, he tells me a little about how the songs come together. "I write the initial compositions in a very rough format at home, then I invite musicians that I know and that I'm interested in working with then we take it to the studio. I basically direct and orchestrate their playing." At this point he laughs, "I sound like such a narcissist! I'm really not. I don't have any traditional musical training, the way I like being a musician is by giving them the original ideas and allowing them to play and give me a reaction to the ideas. Then I direct and say 'Yeah, I like that. Can we get more of this? I'll do that for hours. Those recordings are what I take away and arrange." In between being interrupted by postmen, kettles boiling and room changes ("it makes it more interesting!" he stresses) we move into the so-called collaborations, which Obaro takes great care to define in his own way. "That's another word that's been bandied around a fair bit," he explains. It's not that collaboration isn't important, it's just not what he would use to describe his music. "Collaboration seems to be a word that's used but collaborating doesn't feel right. I write all the lyrics and the music and I find artists that I admire and artists that I felt
sounded right for the songs in question and I asked them if they would like to sing my words on my record and they were happy to oblige." Two of the artists in question are Delilah Holiday from the punk band Skinny Girl Diet and producer Art School Girlfriend. From there, I ask him about the title, which carries the weight of so many connotations from its first utterance. "I write down a lot of song titles. I do that a lot more regularly than anything else. Things that I see or hear, I write it down. In summing up the record it felt so right." "That line is kind of like a reflection of the general fatigue of society and the idea of being very much overworked and underpaid and your existence feels like it's going from paycheck to paycheck. Not paid to really fulfil your dreams or desires and wholesale long term. That's where 'I grew tired' came from. The second part of it 'I dare not fall asleep,' a conflict of feeling maybe ignorance is bliss and whatever will be will be and the other side is staying awake and alert, making sure that one is ready for the opportunity or potential of a better life or a better existence for one's self." Our conversation moves on and we discuss matters such as his new music video for single Concrete Pony where Obaro himself features heavily,("It felt like I wanted to push the envelope a bit. Come out of my comfort zone a little bit in terms of performing") and the importance of learning to produce yourself ("I would encourage anyone to give it a go because it's definitely possible.") But as I feel the conversation wrapping up and our time limiting, I build the courage to ask him a couple of things which I feel the need to quiz all artists when I meet them. Do they want praise? And what do they want to leave behind? Aware of the current circumstances this question feels all the more poignant now we're locked inside, unable to physically reach out. For Obaro, they bleed into each other and he offers them to me sort of as a beacon of hope. "I definitely want my music to stand the test of time and I always want to write music which has meaning. A lot of the time, that legacy thing comes about when you're gone so maybe I'll never see it. The future generations will maybe be able to see what I couldn't see. So because of that feeling, I don't think about it too much. I just keep trying to make what I want to make. It's gotten easier to do that the longer I do it because there's a lot of external pressure to make particular things or go down a particular route because that seems like the area you'll get love from and I've always been anti-that. I just want to make what I want to make and if you like it you like it. That's my energy." "Positive feedback or love for my work is great, but I feel if I like it too much it will potentially sway what I want to make. It's how I'm feeling about art. It's like squash. If it's a bit too sweet it gets sickly. It's lovely when people do come up to me and say those things and it means a lot to me, but I always kind of take it in and pull it into the cupboard in my mind which is reserved for when I feel really low and gives me a boost when I need it. But if I dwell on it too much, it's almost like resting your morals on it." But that's specific to Obaro's own artistic path, and not the one everyone needs to follow. "Everyone takes those things in their own way and there's no right or wrong way to do it. That's just how I feel about my art." But to end on a slightly happier note, we look to the future, and the possibility that we'll be able to absorb the energy of this release and all the others together soon. I ask him what he plans to do when he gets to perform again, hoping for a detailed set and setlist, but instead he laughs. "Play live. Get drunk. Probably." His philosophy nowadays is one of less complications. "I am trying to simplify my life one day at a time, and I just want to play live and experience the live thing again with my band and connection to the audience and have fun times." I for one can't wait to see it.
