FEATURE: Spotlight: Hak Baker — Music Musings & Such

FEATURE:

Spotlight

Hak Baker

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WHEN thinking about…

my favourite singles of the year, the top five is quite eclectic. I would have Iraina Mancini’s Cannonball at the top. Antony Szmierek’s collaboration with Jacana People, Twist Forever, is in that mix. I would also put Queens of the Stone Age’s Emotion Sickness in the top five (for that chorus alone!). Maybe Jessie Ware’s Pearls is in the top five. Rounding things off very nicely indeed is Hak Baker’s DOOLALY. It is a sensational song from an artist who is among the finest coming out of London. His Sprechgesang delivery gives the music this conversational aspect. A lot of modern artists deploy Sprechgesang. I am not sure why the phenonium has happened but, in the case of Baker’s music, I think it is the most affective way to get his amazing and vivid lyrics into the head. I am going to move to some interviews with Baker soon. I will also bring in reviews for his amazing debut album, Worlds End FM. It is one that you need to get! One of the best debut albums of the year, Baker has a busy year ahead in terms of gigs and dates. Before I get to interviews and reviews, here is some important background regarding the incredible Hak Baker:

“Hak Baker is a documentarian as much as he is a songwriter. Whether chronicling his own experiences or those of the people around him, his music offers an indispensable insight into the struggles of the working classes in 2019. The injustices, the hustle, the heartache: it’s all there to be discovered on ‘Babylon’, a 12-track mixtape which the 29-year-old singer showcasing his vast creative vision and astonishingly unadorned vocal talents.

“There’s no fairy tales in East London,” he rues on the title track in his thick cockney dialect, foreshadowing the hard truth that happy endings are in short supply. And yet Baker’s backstory is proof that real life is often as extraordinary as fiction. For, from chorister to convict, grime MC to folk singer, his protracted path to this point has been anything but predictable.

The third youngest of seven children, Baker was born in Luton before moving to the Isle of Dogs aged one, where he still resides today. His introduction to performing came as part of the Southwark Cathedral choir, which he joined at the encouragement of his mother. By his early teens Baker was gravitating towards grime, becoming part of the BOMB Squad crew for a few years, who achieved breakout success with support from the now-defunct urban music champion Channel U.

It was during this period that Baker began rebelling against his strict upbringing, getting into scrapes with the law, and by the age of 15 he’d left home and was getting by bunking on the floors of friends. With no rules to adhere to things spiralled out of control quickly, resulting in spells in prison. Discussing the experience today, Baker accepts full responsibility for his actions: “The things we got into, we put ourselves there: no-one forced us to do anything. They were difficult times, but that was the path that I took and I don't regret it. I learned so much.”

It was while incarcerated, aged 21, that Baker reignited his love for music, signing up for guitar lessons and further developing his technique via YouTube tutorials. The first song he learned to play on guitar was ‘Youth’ by Daughter, before he began branching out into his own compositions. The shift from grime to - what Baker terms - “g-folk” might initially feel like a wrench, but it’s less so when you consider how diverse his tastes have always been. Indeed, he speaks fondly today of a childhood spent being exposed to everything from reggae, dub, and jazz to classic pop, R&B, soul, and bashment, via various friends and family members.

Music mostly remained a private pursuit for Baker until 2016 when, at the behest of friends, he applied for and won a place on the Levi’s Music Project. Headed up by Skepta, the initiative provided Baker and 10 other aspiring musicians with access to equipment, mentors and studio time, and climaxed with a showcase at the V&A. The experience spurred Baker into action, and his debut single ‘7AM’ arrived in May 2017, followed by the ‘Misfits’ EP that November.

Two years on, Baker’s debut mixtape builds on that groundwork. Produced by childhood friend and long-time collaborator Ali Bla Bla, ‘Babylon’ is characterised by what Baker terms “spontaneous, intuitive music.” Baker’s loose, largely acoustic guitar-led arrangements and Sprechgesang vocal delivery lend the set a refreshing fluidity, and even when he does branch out with more ambitious arrangements - on the breezy, brass-flecked ‘Venezuela Riddim’ for example - it still feels disarmingly unstudied.

Thematically, Baker’s digging deeper than ever, tackling subjects including toxic masculinity (‘Lad’), drugs and alcohol-induced oblivion (‘Broomstick’), social inequality (‘Skint’) and death (‘Grief Eyes’). As Baker explains, the title ‘Babylon’ itself refers to the oppression we face as a society.

“I feel it's important to tackle [the] issues of our society. Babylon is a state of play - a social cloud - that we all live under. And the reason could stem from not having dads at home, or not having a good rapport with the police or the government, or repressing emotion, or psychological issues… We all feel low, we all feel looked down upon, we all feel like we don't matter, and we turn to drugs and drink and whatever to just get out of it. Because it's too hard. We all fall slaves to Babylon at some point or another.”

While Baker vehemently rejects the idea his music is political, when pressed on his long-term goals he speaks passionately about affecting positive change via his work, and inspiring others to do the same. “I want to be a figurehead of longevity and hard work, and repay what I owe to the communities that taught me so much. What's the point of getting somewhere and then forgetting where you come from? I wasn't born with no silver spoon, there weren’t no leg-ups: I came up from the floor. I'm a normal fucking boy. I've got something to say and I'm saying it”.

Before getting to an interview from The Independent released around the time his single Windrush Baby came out, I want to bring in a quick question and answer from Fredy Perry. We get to know a little more about Hak Baker’s music tastes and favourites:

“Name, where are you from?

My name is Hak Baker from Isle of Dogs, East London.

Describe your style in three words?

Nonchalant, Relaxed, Assured.

What’s the best gig you’ve ever been to?

I don’t go to many gigs, to be honest, It's something I tell myself I must start doing. I recently saw Lauryn Hill perform at Boomtown. That was just an inspiration. Seeing all the pain in her face released somehow through all these stories and words. With all the visuals of her life and misconduct in America behind her. Was just a powerful thing. When she performed the track 'To Zion' at the end. Icing on the cake - Big up Loz.

If you could be on the line up with any two artists in history?

It would be Gil Scott-Heron and Mr Bob Marley. I'm trying to fit in right in between both those two legends, to become the ultimate current storyteller. You gotta levitate right between them two ain't ya know what I mean.

Which subcultures have influenced you?

I’d say defo Ska and Punk. They both came at an important interval of time.
Where for whatever reason a sense of unity was needed amongst the tyranny. Music always prevails in these times. A reason for everyone to draw together. Beautiful and similar again to our current times. Ska defo represents that to me. Punk was just ferocious man. You need that shit too when you need to be heard. There are obvious other influences like reggae but that's not really a subculture anymore is it.

If you could spend an hour with anyone from history?

Bob Marley innit. Facing adversities from all angles. From his own people and country to his corporate and federal oppressors. You know death threats, shootings. Yet, still, the man persevered and sang his songs and passed his messages. I'd just like to cross-examine the man. See if we are on the same page. Did he feel the same head f*cks I feel. Did he nearly lose his mind. On the outside, he looked so calm in his proclamations. He was the heavyweight champ.

Of all the venues you’ve been to or played, which is your favourite?

Easily Bethnal Green Working Men's Club. The gaff is everything I stand for really. Well, it was, lol but you can still get the feel. Lads work all day and it’s a place to get together and that's what it felt like on my tour dates there. Full to the brim with Misfits with not a f*ckin' care in the world except for that moment. Double sweaty, mosh pits, pints flying all over the place, people smoking weed. That's how I NEED it. It was perfect.

Your greatest unsung hero or heroine in music?

Elana Tonra, from the band Daughter. She just pours her heart out man unapologetically. Man, it's awesome, learned a lot from her. She’s great”.

Windrush Baby was released as a single back in March. One of the standout cuts from Worlds End FM, this feature and interview from The Independent finds Hak Baker reflecting on generational trauma, his love for Jamaica, and inheriting his mother’s rebel spirit. There is so much truth and power from Baker’s music. I have already made some predictions regarding the artists who could be shortlisted for this year’s Mercury Prize. Next month, we find out which twelve albums from British and Irish artists will feature. I foolishly overlooked Hak Baker’s Worlds End FM! I think it will be in the mix and, if it is, one of the favourite alongside my ‘top three’ predictions – Jessie Ware’s That! Feels Good!, Loyle Carner’s hugo, and Dream Wife’s Social Lubrication:

“Britain isn’t me Motherland. Maybe it’s me Fatherland? I haven’t been to Grenada, which is shameless. Me dad’s gifts to me are words and prose. I don’t know if this is common in the Grenadian spirit but I must find out, me curiosity orders me to. But I have always felt an instant affinity with Jamaica. I was brought up with me mum, and me mum is a fire-breathing Jamaican. I can’t disassociate myself with it. Even though being a London boy is me, Jamaican culture is so entrenched in British culture, so it’s a double whammy. I was educated by the music and art that I saw in my house growing up. It’s in my soul. In my living room there were two pictures of Bob Marley and one of Nelson Mandela. I listened to Bob all the time. Sang me mum “Redemption Song” in the bath. Jamaica was the music. Bob encapsulated the spirit of Jamaica. The rebel lives through us.

PHOTO CREDIT: Nadine Persaud

What does Windrush mean to me? Don’t get me wrong, if me parents didn’t travel to Britain, I wouldn’t be alive. I wouldn’t know any of me mates and I wouldn’t be living the life I am today, mixing with the people I am mixing with. Me friends are multi-cultural and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We learn from each other and go crazy together. Our generation is reaping the benefits from being raised in London now. But racism still exists. My generation was lucky. Kids played with other kids, no matter of race or religion. But this was a bubble in the East End. Me mum always told me to be careful and watch out for the BNP. I got called a “coon” a couple of times, but I survived it. And when that happened me white friends would fight for me.

I’ve definitely got a hardened shell for bad news. Me mum got fired from her job because she was working two jobs. When you watch that happen it affects you and it affects the household. There is less money but it gives you a get up and go attitude. You go and seek money because you want to help mum and don’t want to take money off mum. People came over here for material wealth, at the expense of emotional wealth. But now everybody misses the emotional wealth. It was a lie. You work two jobs and get fired and struggle on the poverty line. We lost out on both. “I’ve done everything you told me to, Empire, to support my family, and you’ve given me nothing in return”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Nadine Persaud

“Windrush Baby” is about not being told what to do. I’m alive just to have a good time. I’m not working to live like me mum and grandparents. I want to enjoy myself through the skills I have learnt from them and London. I’m not trying to be like them, not in a bad way, but we are a new generation who wants to bring the power and money back to the Caribbean as a whole and we’re going to have a f***ing good time doing it. We’re not going to sit, beg and borrow, we’re gonna go out and get it and have a laugh. That’s how I tie it up, from the perils and the heartache of what me family have had to go through, the new generation is not going out like that. We’re not going to die with no money in our bank, not going to die with no house that we own. We are going to have it all. Thank you for teaching us the law of the land and how treacherous it. Now we have all the weapons we need to succeed and we’re going to learn and teach in the right way, not the barbarian-ship and hardship that the Empire taught and showed.

We’re going to grow some s*** and make some s***. We’re going to be successful and turn the Windrush story into a success story. We won’t cry. Now we are building our house on the land that was given to me mum by her mum in Jamaica. Me mum wanted me to be a lawyer and a doctor. I’m none of those things. I’m a singer now. She taught me spirit and soul and let me know who me people were from the get go. We weren’t just slaves. We learnt how to survive through the music, through roots reggae, and learnt who we were before slavery”.

I am going to move to an interview from The Guardian. As Baker highlights, London is pricing out the old guard. A lot of artists and creatives who would vibe from the energy of various communities and enclaves are being marginalised and forced out because of exorbitant rent prices and costs. It is a real shame. Something that needs to be addressed and tackled:

“Hak Baker is harking back to the east London of his childhood, before the oat milk lattes and experiential advertising creatives moved in. “Old boys taking me boxing, or to the scrap yard to flip tyres for 40 quid: that stuff gave me a sense of belonging,” he says. “But now when I look out my window, it’s just not the same. That old guard is being priced out, and if you say hello to someone in the street, they look at you like you’re weird. That’s not where I came from. Not at all.”

Gentrification is one of the glum topics on the singer-songwriter’s debut album World’s End FM, alongside a host of others: colonialism, surveillance, depression. Then there are joyous songs like Doolally, where Baker flirts and boozes around a party sounding like the Streets on Fit But You Know It. Few other British albums this year are as vibrant, and true to life’s contradictions. “When people are low and it feels like world war three is on the balance, it’s hard to believe in yourself,” he says of its paradoxically cheery end-of-days vibe. “But if we’re all gonna die, I don’t want to spend the time being sad about it.”

Born to Jamaican and Grenadian parents, Baker was raised on the Isle of Dogs, singing in church and raising his mother’s spirits after long shifts as a social worker. As a teen, he discovered grime via MCs at his local youth club (alongside one Dizzee Rascal), before finding his own schoolyard fame in rap collective Bomb Squad, a way “to be with your friends as much as possible – you felt safe in that bubble of brotherhood”.

In his mid-twenties, though, Baker was jailed for two years for robbery. “Where we’re from, you only know about keeping it moving, trying to provide for your family,” he says. “Prison gave me time to assess what I actually wanted for myself. If you’re not doing that in jail, then what the fuck are you doing?”

Inside, Baker learned the guitar, and having fallen for the wistful acoustics of British band Daughter, he coined his own genre, G-Folk, as a way to tell stories in his infectious cockney cadence. “I felt I could encapsulate the world of working-class people. It’s always shit, it’s always hard, but we still hold on to the idea of working together for a better place to survive. You never know; one day, whoever runs the country might actually listen to us.” But he doesn’t suggest that he and his people are always unified. Windrush Baby explores the heartache of cultural displacement: his mum crops up to complain that black Britons have “let go of the very strong values that we used to have”, but the song welcomes his burgeoning black audience, coming around to a genre-hopping sound. “A lot of black people are scared to back something that they don’t see as strictly ‘black’, like grime or drill. But rock and blues came directly from us and our struggles too. This is a way for me to connect.”

Baker has himself connected with other rowdy, socially conscious troubadours, and having recently supported Pete Doherty at the Royal Albert Hall, he’ll be appearing at Jamie T’s Finsbury Park all-dayer in June. “We went to the pub, got leathered, tried to make a tune, and just did that a few times until we were pals,” he says of Jamie T. “Pete was similar; he loved Wobbles on Cobbles [a song Baker released in lockdown] and invited me to support one of his gigs. He took one look at me backstage and went: ‘Cor, you’ve got some demons, ent ya?’ Even down to him coming onstage with me at Glastonbury last year, he’s always had my back.” Is there any chance of a potential supergroup between the three? “Oh, yeah, definitely. En route, I reckon.”

World’s End FM uses the framing device of Baker as a pirate radio DJ hosting a show, and on the closing track The End of the World, his friend Jack calls in to discuss the challenge of rebuilding himself after his mother’s suicide: recognition that amid the rabble-rousing East End defiance, it’s not always easy for men to keep calm and carry on. “Young men especially need a place to home in [on] their aggressions. As kids, trauma bonded us, but I think [aggression] creeps in more when we grow up and can’t rely on each other as much as we used to. It can be really sad and difficult for the lads”.

Let’s move to a couple of the many positive reviews for Hak Baker’s Worlds End FM. Without doubt among the finest and most stirring debut albums of 2023, I am a bit late to the Baker party. He is not a brand-new artists, yet he is coming through still and has many years ahead of him. If you have not heard his music, then go and follow him and check it out. NME had this to say about the mesmeric Worlds End FM:

“Hak Baker calls himself the ‘three island man’ – his mother was born in Jamaica, his father in Grenada, and himself on east London’s Isle of Dogs. On his intoxicating debut album ‘World’s End FM’ – presented as a pirate radio broadcast transmitting from the edge of the apocalypse – the Londoner brings all these perspectives together for a record that aims to provide a comprehensive portrait of the artist’s journey so far.

Since emerging in 2017, Baker has dipped into ska, reggae and punk, though his MC beginnings still permeate the energy of the music he makes today. Over the last year, he has supported The Libertines’ Pete Doherty at the Royal Albert Hall and will link up with Jamie T at his huge Finsbury Park gig this month (June 30), while Skepta and Celeste also consider themselves fans.

The significant jumps between genres and energies on ‘World’s End FM’ sometimes make the album feel unfocused and erratic, but it also feels true to both Baker’s cultural and musical backgrounds. On single ‘Doolally’, he sounds like a cockney Mike Skinner, throwing out observational quips and guiding the listener through a messy London night out with the same brilliant nonchalance as classic-era Streets. A minute later, he’s swapping dirty beats for breezy acoustic guitar and singing passionately of the abandoned Windrush generation (‘Windrush Baby’).

On ‘Windrush Baby’, he plays the role of traditional protest singer well, before bringing his gaze towards the technological age on ‘Telephones 4 Eyes’, a song that feels suitably itchy and anxious as he discusses the invasive role of smartphones. The sentiment is nothing new, but it’s the clear agitation with which he sings that makes the message cut through.

While all sides of both Baker’s taste and upbringing feel represented here, the overarching concept of ‘World’s End FM’ could be carried through a little more cohesively. Across the album, artists from Baker’s universe call in to the radio station to chat with him. Kurupt FM leader MC Grindah spits over a reggae/d’n’b hybrid on ‘Babylon Must Fall’, before indie star Connie Constance has a bone to pick with people stuck with their heads in their phones on Watford high street (‘Watford’s Burning’). Between these small interludes though, the concept feels, at times, lost.

While ‘World’s End FM’ itself falls an inch short of its lofty conceptual goals, it does successfully introduce Hak Baker as a 21st Century troubadour speaking to modern problems with empathy and requisite anger”.

I’ll wrap this up with CLASH’s take on the stunning Worlds End FM. Hak Baker speaks truth. His music, therefore, has this depth and power that a lot of artists cannot put across. Thought-provoking and powerful, ensure that you investigate such a fine and compelling debut album:

“Hak Baker speaks the truth. The East London artist has built his army, with fans flocking to his shows. They’re a motley crew, too – jaded indie fans, burned out rap fans, discontented pop fans, each searching for something different. A deeply alternative voice, Hak Baker has something no one else has – songs, anthems hewn from his own life, delivered with an absolute, unfiltered sense of honesty.

Debut album ‘World’s End FM’ epitomises this approach. The genre-hopping influences are distilled into something unified and unique, rough-hewn tales of life on the fringes. It’s not afraid to get dark, but there’s humour too – on record, as on the stage, Hak Baker is irrepressible.

‘DOOLALLY’ is an immediate highlight, followed by the bold statement of community that is ‘Windrush Baby’. ‘Collateral Cause’ has a wistful, moving quality, something that in the wrong hands might become mawkish – not here, though, with Hak producing something with genuine empathy.

‘Bricks In The Wall’ merges indie songwriting with electronic production, a kind of Jamie T meets Pet Shop Boys brew. Deft pop music, it deserves to ring out of every radio in the land. Equally, ‘Full On’ is slick but still impactful, the chorus staying in your head for hours at a time.

A true statement of his capabilities, ‘World’s End FM’ is styled as a kind of alternative universe pirate radio broadcast. Songwriting at its most illicit, the punchy vocal on ‘Telephones 4 Eyez’ is offset by the anthemics of ‘Brotherhood’ for example, or the beautiful introspection of ‘Almost Lost London’.

Indeed, there is admirable breadth on display here. Even the skits are perfectly utilised – Kurupt FM’s MC Grindah comes along for the ride, but then so too does the wonderful Connie Constance. Closing with ‘The End Of The World’, this is an album that dares to push aside the bullshit, and give you the truth.

8/10”.

Go and seek out Hak Baker. Such a brilliant young artist creating music that demands to be heard, I hope I was not putting too much pressure on him when I predict a Mercury Prize nod! I am not sure whether Worlds End FM has been put forward for consideration – it really needs to be! A future legend in our midst, it has been a pleasure spotlighting…