Days Of Last

There is generally a clue to Obaro Ejimiwe's lyrics. Ejimiwe, better known as Ghostpoet to the masses, is a melancholic MC with a reputation for lyrics that chronicle life's variances. His prose is firmly rooted in the abstract. He laughs, “It's not really that complex as it's me mumbling over my diverse musical tastes and then getting people to like it. I don't make records for anybody but myself and most times I go in with the mindset of making a record that I would like listen to.” He says he doesn't want to be a pop star and his lyrics aren't complex. “I mean, my lyrics aren't as straightforward as an abc rhyme or anything and they're not Bob Dylan. It's just me talking about the world as I see it.”  

After his 2011 debut album, which carried an abstract moniker (Peanut Butter Blues And Melancholy Jam) was shortlisted for the prestigious Mercury Music Prize, some tagged Ejimiwe as a neo-rapper – a guy who represented a new direction for British rap. He disagrees. “I'm not a rapper and would never describe myself as one. I'm a fan of rap music but I'm a fan of many genres. I listen to hip hop, trance, indie and all kinds of music and don't need to limit myself to one genre. I hope the diversity comes out in my music as I don't write to sound like one particular style.” 

Released in 2010, Peanut Butter Blues And Melancholy Jam was picked up by Radio 1 DJ Gilles Peterson's Brownswood label and the album immediately earned praise for lyrics that spoke of everyday life. And by everyday life, that's exactly what Ejimiwe speaks of: lyrics could reference a past takeaway, a movie or a dream he had last year. On paper it's hardly the subject matter that speaks to a generation, yet Ejimiwe has achieved the feat of being completely and easily identifiable. He sees the funny side: “I just say what I want and what I feel. It's me talking about everyday life, the people I meet and the situations that arise.” Nevertheless, the comparisons with rap are easy to reconcile. If rappers tell stories of personal adversity, triumph, hardships and life's twists and turns, so too does Ejimiwe. Still, if comparisons are to be made it's probably with Mike Skinner (The Streets) or Roots Manuva. Like Ejimiwe, both artists combine tales of gritty urban life with electronic and atmospheric influences. It's evident in Ejimiwe's latest and equally conceptual album title, Some Say I So I Say Light. “As strange as it sounds the album title came to me in a dream,” he laughs. 

Having received such critical acclaim for Peanut Butter Blues And Melancholy Jam, Ejimiwe's follow-up album was always going to stoke comparisons. Was he little more than a one-album wonder? The thought never crossed his mind, although the success of Some Say I So I Say Light has surprised him. “I didn't expect such great reviews as I didn't think people would like it. I've realised as I'm getting old I'm getting more pessimistic. I'm really pleased with the reaction though, so it's so far so good.”  

He says Some Say I So I Say Light is a different album, and different for a reason. “Subconsciously, I'd stored up enough material since my last album so when it came down to write new material just flowed. I didn't feel pressured or stressed as it was about having fun and making music.” He says he wanted to experiment and explore. “The new album's still experimental in nature as this time I wanted to work with acoustic instruments and continue my exploration with electronics. I feel it's evolving me as an artist. I work full-time in music and I've been able to immerse myself in the genres that I love.”

Some Say I So I Say Light was largely recorded in analogue and in a studio, a stark contrast from the home recorded Peanut Butter Blues And Melancholy Jam, which was recorded via digital instrumentation. Established producer Richard Formby (Formby co-produced Some Say I So I Say Light) helped the transformation, or advancement. Although there was a need to bring in assistance, Ejimiwe's quick to clarify that Formby's contribution was a value-add, not a must have. “I knew I needed to bring in a co-producer as I wanted to get the best of this experience. Having a co-producer was about aiding and improving the music I was already making and not him making music for me.”

He is also candid about the need for him to progress. “I knew that whatever I did after Peanut Butter Blues And Melancholy Jam I needed to develop as an artist and that my next album would have to be recorded in studio.” So his latest effort is slicker and more refined that his debut, yet manages to trend between gritty realism and over-the-top production. The other difference is the list of guest contributors – Tony Allen, Lucy Rose, Woodpecker Wooliams to name a few. Ejimiwe says the choices were deliberate. “I wanted real musicians to feature on the album. They may not be the typical commercial big headline acts but they are people with a reputation for their music.” 

Content-wise, the lyrics and storytelling remain as abstract as ever, even if it's relatable. If there's an evident rationalisation for the new ideas on Some Say I So I Say Light, it's because life has a canny knack of changing. That Ejimiwe writes about life and not about themes gives him plenty to say. “I just write about stuff. It could be something I've read or something I've watched on TV. It could be a bit of art I've seen. Themes don't mean anything to me. It's about exploring the world of emotions. We all feel some kind of emotion – black, white, tall, short, Australian or English – emotions are the one thing we all have in common.” 

You'd think that he'd have plenty of material for a third album. After all, life changes daily; new books arrive and the information age is relentless with who does what and why it matters. “I don't have a clue if I'll ever make another album,” he admits. “I still love making music and I'll probably make another one at some point. What? How? When and where?… Who knows? I don't.”