Sensory Integration: Ruthven Interviewed

On his debut album, ‘Rough & Ready’, Ruthven reintroduces himself to the world. The 32-year-old emerged back in 2017 with the pared-back Minneapolis sound of ‘Evil’, followed by intermittent standalone releases. A deal with XL Recordings soon followed, but the South London artist was forced to retreat back into the shadows after a series of personal setbacks.

‘Rough & Ready’ charts the interweaving facets of Ruthven’s life and career; reconciliation with lost parts of his lineage, financial precarity, artistic autonomy, and the fruits of a lived-in monogamous love. It’s a survivor’s chronicle and a fusion work that builds on the foundations laid by his musical and familial forefathers.

On the twelve-track collection, Ruthven has cultivated a groove-infused production style that is at once molasses-smooth, strident and maximalist. A member of the Paul Institute, Ruthven realises the label and talent incubator’s trademark on his debut; a simulacrum of prototypical pop, soft rock, the edge of soul and classic songwriting tropes, with a need to puncture it with synthetic funk abstractions that pulls the listener out of the nostalgic time loop into the future. “We’re just truly wacky,” Ruthven says of the creative repartee with his PI network. “It’s really well done music but also borderline overdone. It’s a fine line between making something perfect and overcooking it.”

In this revealing conversation with CLASH, Ruthven muses on being schooled in the lore of Prince, the bittersweet truths of his non-linear journey, and why ‘Rough & Ready’ is an all-important building block to a more prolific future.

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Thanks for taking the time to talk today. I can say emphatically that ‘Rough & Ready’ is one of my favourite UK releases this year. I’m fascinated with your career before music. Before you dedicated yourself to this profession, you were a firefighter right? 

I was moonlighting as one today actually. My day job is training firefighters on how to wear breathing apparatus. I was an actual firefighter for eight years, from the age 19 until 27. It’s been a long road. I was doing music full time for about four years, and then I had a series of unfortunate events happen that put a stop on the trajectory a bit. 

Given it’s been such a long build-up, did you have pre-release nervous energy? 

I think I’m more nervous about the show. The music deserves a really good live representation. We’re kicking off rehearsals. We have a listening party, just me and the piano, which is what I was doing opening for Sampha. Right now it’s more about the band. I’m vying for their time because they’re all in demand. Everything feels concentrated in the last few weeks, so I have a slightly jittery energy about me. This is my thing to be judged, so it’s only natural. 

My entry to your work, like a lot of other people, was the track ‘Hypothalamus’. Take me back to 2018. Who were you then? What was it like as a twenty-something pivoting between the daily grind and your calling as a musician? 

I was at home with my kids and wife. I had my first child when I was 20. I grew up not knowing my Dad because he was a travelling musician. It was important for me to be present in my family’s life, to not be a fleeting presence but someone they know well. I was in the fire brigade, but became more aware of the fact that I needed to create and develop myself as a musician. 

‘Hypothalamus’ is a good example of the evolution. The beats are straight rips of ‘Purple Rain’-era Prince, but now I’m trying to do something different and make something my own. I’m using my source of inspiration to holistically develop myself. I wrote the song after doing a first aid course where I’m using a defibrillator and learning about the function of the hypothalamus with regards to heat stroke. My studio was the fire station at the time and I’d be recording in between shifts. That night was fateful. I worked until about 2am. I sent it to Anup [A.K. Paul] impulsively and he was like: you’ve levelled up. I had a good time writing this one. 

When did you begin to sow the seeds of your debut full-length?

At first it was going to be an EP: four songs and a cover. Then I started writing more, and it felt right to drop an album. It came together organically. All of the people I’ve met along the way have helped me on this journey. It feels like a whole project. I can listen the whole way through. 

Did you hit a low? Were there times you were close to giving up? Or not feeling like this work would see the light of day?

I did ask: why is it taking so long? I had a number of injuries which didn’t help things – a chest injury and mashed up my ribs. I also ran out of money. The record deal was great when it landed but I had to get back into work to provide for my family. Making bread was something I had to do. The label was very patient with me. Now, I have no desire to indulge myself in this process anymore than I have to. I’m getting better at focusing and being more prolific with my output. But we are where we are, you know? I’ve enjoyed the flow of creativity, and widening the musical circle in terms of collaborators.  

Speaking of that co-creating process, how would you define your partnership with A.K. Paul? There’s real synergy at play here. 

It was pretty insular. Anup and Eg [White] were very good at bringing me out of my shell. When I think about the journey, it’s taken longer than I would have liked it to, but I’ve been blessed with this environment that I’ve cultivated with Anup. My studio unit is right next to his. I’d bring my stems over and we’d use his speakers because the sound is much more revealing than mine. I don’t see us stopping anytime soon. We have this fun, infectious energy between us but also a deeper understanding of each other as musicians.

Talk me through the album title, ‘Rough & Ready’?

The album title is a play on my name. It’s an album that lets the listener in, and you get to know me. It incorporates patois-isms and sayings specific to the Jamaican culture: I care but I don’t care; I can do things in a rough way; I can enjoy eating a Michelin star meal but I can also eat street food. It’s me saying I’m not Mr Mysterious, I’m actually quite a normal person. 

‘Rough & Ready’ integrates family lore, anecdotes, and imparted wisdom from one generation to another generation. The opener ‘Cautious’ sets that tone of exploration. Was it about your linking your past and present? 

When we were in lockdown, my Dad died from kidney failure. I knew that my father was one of nine kids, but I didn’t know about much of his family or history. I did a genealogy test and got matched with relatives who share the same DNA as me. I inadvertently met my niece and my brother. I’ve connected with a lot of family members in America. I have like seventeen new family members! It made me feel that my Dad wasn’t too isolated. I connected with his family every Sunday, and spoke for hours on Zoom over lockdown.

I found out from them that my grandad used to run a jazz club in Jamaica, which is where my Dad and his siblings grew up. He wasn’t a talkative guy but he knew how to be a showman. One time he got into an argument, which was unlike him. He said something along the lines of: if you’re swimming in the river and you see my ship, you better catch it because that’s your only pathway to success. It was such a striking visual reference. I felt compelled to make it into a lyric on ‘Cautious’. As much as it came from a heated argument, I made it into something uplifting. It’s quite Marvin Gaye-influenced, the way harmonies are stacked. Once it was nearly finished, I knew it had to be the opening. 

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‘Afterglow’ is one of my favourite moments on this record. There’s a lovely stark clarity about the song, and a sustained buildup before the overflow at the end. I appreciate moments of tenderness like this. 

It’s so funny because ‘Afterglow’ wasn’t flowing for me at the beginning. It was me burying myself in the studio. I’d been in the studio since ten in the morning, nothing was flowing and everything felt tight and strained. It took me until about seven in the evening to get myself to a spot where I felt like I was flowing. In the space of a few hours, everything was there. It was finished in its demo form, and it didn’t need much more. I quite like that the demo was the final version. 

In terms of the lyrics, it’s about post-coital bliss. It’s a love song instead of a raunchy song. It’s talking through the experience of what it feels like to be in love. I’m overwhelmed by that feeling on this song. It’s just as important as having a cool, fun, sexual relationship because it celebrates being soft. There’s references to commonly-used phrases and idioms, but also the chemical and physiological phrases that I love to sprinkle in. 

For me, you’re a singer’s singer. The harmonies on this record create another layer, another texture. The track ‘Indulge’ has a looped vocal as a mainline melody. Were you painstakingly layering and stacking in the studio or embracing the spontaneous vocal without much afterthought? 

I’d say it’s a bit of both. Quite often it’s the starting place. The harmony stack is like me playing the piano. It’s integral. Sometimes I do get in my head a bit and I can overthink things quite a lot. It’s fun sometimes, and other times I can overcook it. It’s about finding the balance between what feels natural and what needs a bit of finetuning. Me and Anup would work well into the morning on the vocals. When things are going in the right direction in the same room as this crazy genius man, you have to keep going. 

Parts of this album explore the precarity of being a musician. What advice would you impart to musicians that need that boost or affirmation to continue after experiencing setbacks?

Find people to work with that are just as in as you are. They will motivate you to be the motivator. With my manager Leon, in the time that we’ve been together, we’re always onto the next thing; moving, working and forging forward. We’re encouraging each other in significant ways. You also need to filter out bullshit. A lot of people talk shit and a lot of it doesn’t mean anything. Be selective. If you’re sure about yourself, be selective about who you share your dream with and who you’re listening to. That’s where I’m at anyway. I’m an open book and that hasn’t always served me well. Genuine feelings are key when they’re communicated in the right way. 

The Paul Institute released Fabiana Palladino’s record and now yours. Two singular releases that happen to be some of the best hybrid pop-RnB collections this year. If you had to capture and sum up the magic of this talent incubator and label, what would it be?

My Dad was a musician for Sun Ra Arkestra. I found that out when he died. He was mad into avante-garde jazz. He was quite wacky and out there. The Paul Institute are like that but we’re avant-garde in our way. In the ways that make us similar, we go full tilt towards those things. For me, I did a deep dive into Prince. I’ve not had conversations about that level of reference other than with the Paul Institute. When I’m chatting to Anup, he’s mad into Detroit techno. When he plays it, I can hear it and I can feel it. For Jai [Paul], it could be some mad drum programming, and for Fabi, she’d unearth this mad obscure sound that no has heard before. We’re all internally aware of each other’s quirks. We’re just truly wacky. It’s really well done but also borderline overdone. It’s a fine line between making something perfect and overcooking it. We all have different processes; we’re not the same musicians, we have different levels of mastery, but we all have that through line. 

With ‘Rough & Ready’, are you wanting to bring back classic songwriting tropes to the now? And is your work an example of retro futurism? 

I think so. I would like for people to hear my music and think that I’m contributing towards music like this becoming mainstream again. I don’t see myself as a mainstream artist per se but I want these sounds and these references to be everywhere. My favourite eras are between the late ‘70s to the early ‘80s, and the late ‘80s to the mid ‘90s. These were innovative eras. My dream is for people to want to listen to music like this, and for it to become normal.

People take years to drop albums now. Back then Prince was dropping an album every year or two years. Prince, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye… they had next level musicianship and the quality hardly ever dipped. Some records were better than others but they knew how to put an album together. Tame Impala is someone who is doing something that skirts the mainstream but you can hear the references. I’m continually inspired by Air’s ‘Sexy Boy’, which was everywhere in the ’00s. I can hear Air in Tame Impala. It’s nostalgic but very current. People like what they like but I’m often thinking why these sounds aren’t landing the way they should. That’s something I’m going to continue to address in my work going forward.

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‘Rough & Ready’ is out now. Ruthven has announced a UK tour early next year. For more details on dates and tickets click here.

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Photo Credit: Buster Grey-Jung