“I’ve Never Seen The Easy Way Out” CLASH Meets Hak Baker

It’s the night before his debut appearance at Bristol’s FORWARDS Festival and Hak Baker seems at peace with himself. It’s clear that the East London songwriter’s fervour for introspection, both in life and through his music, has inspired some serious soul-searching, and the momentary respite of a recent month-long break in Colombia, as described to Mike Skinner in Clash’s Issue 127, seems to have been just what the doctor ordered. Since returning, he’s ticked off a headline show at Somerset House, a laundry list of European festival appearances, and the release of an EP, ‘Nostalgia Death: Act I’, with a successor soon to follow; by this point, this is like second nature.

Baker’s storied past has included a fleeting rap and grime career in his adolescence as Swift Leng – the steezy shot-caller of the Channel U chart-topping crew B.O.M.B Squad – as well as two stints behind bars, the latter of which saw him learning the guitar in his cell while an appreciation for alternative music blossomed. To this day a vocal sceptic of the establishment, Baker’s sound is an authentic smorgasbord of British and Caribbean influences, evading labels through a metamorphic alchemy of cultural touchstones including folk, reggae, ska, post-punk, garage and jungle. Covering diverse subjects ranging from grief to debauchery to identity, each threaded together by unflinchingly personal anecdotes, you’re hanging on every word of his distinctive East End accent.

Read on for our full conversation with Hak, where we discuss his new project, his recent ventures as a director and soon-to-be author, and how growing up on the Isle of Dogs taught him the now lost art of building community.

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On your new single ‘Nameless’ you talk about the dilemma of wanting to disassociate with your slave name, but simultaneously having made a career under this name. Has the knowledge of your ancestral name been passed down the generations?

Nah, I don’t even know what my real name is because I’ve been given Baker. If I went back to either Sierra Leone or Nigeria, I’m 100% sure that before my ancestors was put on a boat, their second name wasn’t Baker. But [in the song] it’s a double entendre ‘cause it also means tryna grow away from the person I was. Being Hak comes with the vices, the cycles, the alcoholism, everything, but if I got rid of that side of myself then I wouldn’t laugh the same; I wouldn’t make the same jokes. Is it possible? Is it what I really want? It’s an open statement, but it can be met with many interpretations.

You shot the upcoming music video in the same week that far-right riots struck the UK, which I understand was pure coincidence. The video’s scenes of kinship and community are a powerful tonic to the bitter taste that those events left us with. Have things felt palpably different around town in recent weeks?

Not in my town. I think we’ve had our battles with that a long time ago, man. The BNP was rife on the Isle of Dogs. You know, my friend who’s like 50 was just talking to me about that. Fortunately we didn’t really see much like that [growing up]. There’d be one or two racial spats but they was always probably sorted out by them [raises fists emphatically] or conversation, and those things are unnecessary, you know? 

If there is racism on the Isle of Dogs, it’s superbly hidden, because we’re a mesh of all kinds of people, races, colours. Our language is a melting pot of cockney and rudeboy. That’s who we are and everyone is completely comfortable with that. No one wants it in any other way; we’ve already mastered all of that and achieved a communal island over there. So no, we didn’t change at all. We was appalled, really. I’ll be honest: in my head, I was just thinking ‘you lot should just come over here and see how we do it, man’, ‘cause we’ve got it sewn up right. You know how I mean? 

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I understand you’ve started dabbling in directing, with credits on the music videos for both ‘LUVLY’ and ‘Nameless’, which makes sense as you’ve spoken before about being hands-on with everything in the creative process. Are aesthetics something you have in mind as you’re making the songs?

Not really. It’s just easy to put imagery behind what we created, because it’s about real life, innit, and I don’t really mince my words. I don’t initially start songwriting with pictures, I start with eavesdropping! I’m always listening to what other people are talking about, or what I hear in the street, and I go ‘ooh, that was a cool saying, let me write that down!’. After I’ve figured out a way that applies to my life or what’s going on around me, a song will be created.

Your biopic HAKEEM premiered at Sheffield Documentary Festival in June and you had another private screening in August. Can the rest of the world expect to see this anytime soon?

We’re gonna be doing a bigger show in Leicester Square at the IMAX and I’m pretty sure that seats a few hundred people. It will be a lot of the [film] festival-goers but we’ll have access to at least half of the guestlist as well. I don’t know how the hell we’re gonna whittle it down, but it’ll be available to see then. I’d love for people to see it, but we’ve gotta wish for the best and hold it back until we’ve got a proper distributor. At the end of the year we’re gonna be touring it again through various film festivals, so fingers crossed we manage to proceed with that.

When you last spoke to CLASH, you mentioned you were writing a book and some scripts. Are these related to the documentary or something completely different?

Nah, these are completely different things. I’m here with [publicist] Elspeth now; she’s like the boss, and I have to dedicate a couple of hours to writing [laughs]. The book is 100% on the horizon, and the scripts? I’m gonna keep my mouth shut. Hopefully people will see soon!

Despite having plenty of interest from the industry, you’ve chosen to remain independent. Is it challenging doing things yourself?

Yeah [sighs]. I’ve fucking figured out that I don’t have unlimited energy, which I’m gutted about! 34 will teach you that, you know? It’s definitely a struggle at times, but I’ve never seen the easy way out; not close. I’ve only seen what it’s like to work hard and I dare not break tradition. I’ve had instances where I thought ‘cor, I wish this was a little bit easier’, but I just stick to my guns.

It’s about representation as well. When people see I’m taking on all this work, and doing most of it myself, it’s my dream, you know? I’m lucky to have built up a great team over the years; I tell them my vision and they understand it. Nothing less. My mother enabled me to create what I want and the people around me understand the great English language and they get it, so this will be the way, I reckon. And it shows young boys and girls who have their own dreams you can do it yourself and you can do it your way. Look at Uncle Hak. Look at the wrinkles.

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The new EP title ‘Nostalgia Death’ is an interesting choice, because your catalogue up until now has cherished fond memories. Were you worried about living in the past?

I think one of my main issues is the absolution of the past. Most of my habits are not new. They are wrapped in nostalgia and spawned from the past. It’s where the lads and I go to feel comfortable; we talk about it, obsess about it non-stop, and then sadly we get drunk enough that we act like it, and that doesn’t do anyone any favours, trust me. So the idea behind ‘Nostalgia Death’ is about speaking things aloud and hopefully being able to move on from them.

I wish it was as easy as putting out a project and suddenly going ‘alakazam’. It’s not, but at least I can feel like I’m not glorifying some of my actions that could have been better. I thought I’d highlight a lot of those situations; the pains that I’ve caused or I’ve felt. I’m trying to bury them and move onto the slightly more levelled gentleman that I can be, but it’s like a labyrinth getting there, you know. You think you’ve made it, and there’s a couple ‘nother twists and turns, but we’ll get there.

I’ve noticed a few self-referential easter eggs on the EP, like the ‘Brotherhood’ adlib in ‘Blender’ and mentions of conundrums and misfits elsewhere. Was it a conscious choice to sprinkle in those little nods to the Hak Baker cinematic universe?

Yeah, course! I love that. As you said, those projects are dancing in the greatness and the celebrations of the past, so I definitely wanted to tap up some of the old catalogue.

You’ve had a love-hate relationship with your youthful outlook on life and once described your 2019 EP ‘Misled’ as ‘closing a chapter’. Today, though, you’re still making quintessentially cheeky tunes about seeking thrills; on your new song ‘No Control’ you concede that you may never lose that mentality. Maybe that’s a good thing?

Yeah, man, you can’t fully lose that cheek, ‘cause you know, I’d be boring! But the guy that I was when I made ‘Misled’ was a fucking completely emotional wreck tirade. He was melting, and you can hear it in that project, I think. It was made in lockdown, and I was all over the shop. Not able to concentrate and stand on top of emotions. And acted out of emotions a lot of the time instead of logic. I really believe in logic. The heart is extremely important, but if you act out of emotions instinctively; reactively; immediately, the actions are usually no good.

A while back you started your ‘Bricks In The Wall’ night as a space to champion alternative musicians of colour. There don’t seem to be many of these around; even the MOBOs only introduced their Best Alternative Act category two years ago following campaign pressure. Do you think there’s still a long way to go in that respect?

Yeah, 100 percent. We were just talking about bringing ‘Bricks In The Wall’ back as well. There’s stipulations and stereotyping and the walls and the boxes are still like this. In all honesty, I’m fucking tired of them, and fucking tired of even referencing them. You’ve gotta just concentrate on what you’re doing and keep building your audience and your supporters. Hopefully they can lift you out of all that shit anyway; you don’t even need these fucking prizes. How I didn’t even fucking get shortlisted for a Mercury last year is criminal. I actually allowed that shit to get me down for a bit. By the time they give me my flowers I’ll be over and done with and I’ve already received them from the people anyway, so fuck them, man.

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In recent years we’ve seen the industry shifting towards what Spotify have called a ‘genreless’ mentality, with many artists preferring not to put labels on their music. You coined the term G-folk to describe your sound; is that distinction important to you, or was it necessary to stop people from still calling you a grime artist or putting you in a box?

Great question. I don’t even care what they wanna call it or what box they put it in anymore. I just make tunes, and none of them are ever gonna sound like the next one, fortunately or unfortunately. I have to make tunes or I feel weird. As long as they make people feel happy, I’m alright.

You and FORWARDS alumna Yazmin Lacey performed a version of Janet Kay’s lovers’ rock classic ‘Silly Games’ together at Somerset House earlier in the summer – that must have been something special?

Yeah, course, man. Yazmin’s a star. She’s also another Black cockney from the East End, of Jamaican heritage, so she’s automatically my sister. Somerset House used to be a port that slaves would come through, if you don’t know that. A lady there was telling us information about it, and I was like ‘oh really, is it?’ So we used that information, and on the screens for the shows, we showed the causes of the Empire, the mixing of people, and shit like that. So it was good to have two Black, East End artists from the diaspora of colonialism here on such a stage performing a song about us. 

I can see parallels between the vulnerability of your music and the male lovers’ rock singers of yesteryear, who in a way challenged traditional masculinity and reinvented ideas of what it means to be strong. I guess your mum might be partly to thank for that?

Oh, yeah. Joy is the best thing. Obviously, she empowered me with knowledge, history and music from young. As you said, quite rightly so, if you look back into lovers’ rock, old reggae tunes from male singers are riddled with vulnerability. It’s not dancehall music and it’s not bashment, where they’re talking about this, that, and certain derogatories. Lovers’ rock is only talking about love. Men talking about how much their heart is broken, how much they wanna be in love, how much they adore someone, or how much they miss someone.

Again, I’m just following track of the greats. We’re here to encourage love. I’m most definitely not here to encourage hate, unless it’s against Babylon. I’m just here, man. I’m a strong bloke – physically fit and strong – but I’m very, very susceptible to emotion and I’m completely alright with that nowadays. I used to be quite afraid of it back in the day, but now it’s all good, man.

FORWARDS Festival gets its name because it’s all about championing bright ideas and creating a better future for the next generation. What changes would you like to see in the world right now?

I’d like to see energy and money put back into the hands of people that can make a true difference in the community. Empower that. I’m a child of the youth club era, and I literally wouldn’t be this person if it wasn’t for the youth club and how it brought people together. Took people to the seaside for the first time. You know what that’s like? Never been to the seaside ‘cause you’re just living in the estate, and you get taken there with all your best friends and suddenly your eyes are open. You wanna know where else is open in the world. Where else can I go and see?

This is why there’s so much disconnect between the people: they don’t know each other. They’re on the phone. They’re finding out who someone is that lives down the street from them on their phone. There’s no love on the street no more, so you’ve just gotta bring that back, really. We’ve seen it work; we’ve seen it topple serious racism in the ‘60s and the ‘70s. And then you put everyone in a room together, and it’s good.

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Hak Baker’s new EP ‘Nostalgia Death: Act II’ arrives October 11th on Hak Attack Records.

Words + Photography: Luke Ballance

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