At 16, Florida native Marcel Everett or XXYYXX as he is rapidly getting worshipped around the electronic community, is on the cutting edge of production, seamlessly blurring the murky lines between dubstep, chillwave, trap rap, and other genres.

Infact the list to peg what sort of genres he makes runs longer then a boat trip to the sunny state, so we won’t try.

Instead we recommend you download this breath-taking self-titled project and prepare to be paralysed.

Best served baked.

The definition of a ghostwriter is one who writes for and gives credit of authorship to another.

Loosely taking that denotation, it would be fair to speculate that a ghost poet is person who rhymes for others. Here we would like to introduce a very different kind of man who nurtures that title. Making huge waves, Obaro Ejimiwe aka Ghostpoet is a musician with all power to excite.

Often wrapping dark humour around everyday occurrences in a manner fans of Roots Manuva and The Streets would look up to, Ghostpoet is reluctantly charming.

His laidback, carefree attitude as the syllabus roll from under his deep voice makes for one of this years most exciting new talents.

Having just dropped a dope free EP and with a pending album in the shadows, I caught up with the 6 foot or more gentle giant in London’s east end to get behind this intriguing soul. A man of intelligence, a big smile and a strong handshake greats me along with an apology for getting lost.

One of 5 siblings, born to a Dominican mother and Nigerian father, Ghost was South London born and raised. An average maturing city teen in the mid 90’s, things started to change as an above average passion for writing lingered. Swept up by the MC’s and private radio stations that belted a new promising sound – garage music – he began to form his craft from a bedroom hobby to the work of a professional wordsmith.

“Vipers, Heartless crew…” Ghost is quick to quote his favourite figures from that era.

“I liked how they weaved the relevant with humour. Early Dizzee, Wiley, Dirty Goods. I pricked my ears to those for their story telling,” he recalls. “Delight FM was the one. Private radio played a large part in my influence.”

When taking in his style, many will reach to the spoken word scene as a major influence. Wrong, my friend. It was locked in to these illegal airwave pirates’ commandeering, sweaty box flats perched above the clouds that had a teenaged Obar engaged and thinking.

“I’m not a spoken word person, I will keep battling that down,” he says of the title so many slap onto his music.

And he’s right. In Ghostpoet’s music, stories rather than stringed vague sentences play an integral part. Mostly at a spoken pace, rapid flows play substitute to clever couplets of rhyme but with all the attitude of a recognisable lyricist.

“It’s about lyrics more than anything. I’m trying to say something in a song.”

What makes his music so relevant moreover is his canny ability to mould inspiration from everyday scenarios. An architect of his own beats, Ghost casually walks me through the process.

“It’s kind of beats first,” he explains. “I don’t know I’m just living life. I hear something in a beat that reminds me of something I was told or saw. Then it forms a hook or beginning of a chorus and we build from that.”

It’s music that is built from fragments of both experience and stories he’s been told.

“Exactly, it’s like a puzzle to me, making it all fit in my head. It could be something I heard or saw three, four years ago but it’s something that comes to me when I’ve laid down the spine of a tune.”

Having finished Media Production at Coventry University, where he also formed a grime collective, Ghost moved back to the central bright lights to pursue his passion – hurdling obstacles like family objection along the way.

“It wasn’t something when I was young I was sure to go into.” Ghost remembers how he choose to make a go of it.

“I just liked music a lot. I was writing from college time, but it was a hobby type of thing. I had a big appetite for music which was frowned upon. My parents wanted me to concentrate on my studies like all good parents. So it wasn’t really encouraged or discouraged. I didn’t really tell them about writing, they just saw me listening to music a lot.”

But music was a natural progression.

“Life is like that. You carry things through life because you just do it. Consuming music and being part of music always made sense for me.”

Looking at the brilliant debut EP The Sound of Strangers, a genre-varied insight into this fairly new talent you get a real understanding of why we are very excited here at Beatnik. What’s more, the offering is free!

“Today it made sense to get it out for free so people could get a taste of what I’m doing. I like the idea of free things. I thought people would appreciate it. It’s a big thank you to everyone who has been supporting me.”

‘Longing For The Night’ reflects Ghost’s funky house affection while the feature with Micachu is a cheeky electronic indie wonder.

“With my music making I don’t discriminate. I like to take elements from different areas.”

We are truly thankful for it. It says a lot about his potential musical reach too.

“I really don’t try and put myself in a whole and say I must be this type of artist. When you are in love with music you have to listen to everything… it’s one of those. Haha.”

As Ghost finishes his cup of tea, the hip-hop in me pushes the question surrounding my favourite track. ‘Love Confusion’ is a very British freestyle over A Tribe Called Quest’s immense classic ‘Electric Relaxation’.

“I knew about Tribe, but I wasn’t a deep deep fan,” Ghost smiles as the story animates his face.

“But I heard the tune one time and I thought ‘what is this!’ I had to write to it. A Tribe Called Quest is A Tribe Called Quest. They are the foundations to what a lot of people are doing now. Be it consciously or self-consciously.”

His rendition hasn’t meandered from the romantic topic of the song either. Ghost doesn’t care much about whether ventilating romantic thoughts leaves his person exposed.

“It was the kind of feeling of that tune. It has that romanticism if that is the right word. It has that emotion. It seemed right at the time.”

So are you a bit of a romantic?

“My misses wouldn’t say so. I should be more – I’m working on it. Haha”

What’s the greatest romantic gesture you’ve done?

“Haha. That’s a question right there.”

Content with a ‘normal’ life living with his fiancé and jack russell terrier, a dog called Stanely the G, he’s meticulously putting the finishing touches to his debut album.

“Hopefully the plan is to bring out a single end of August and the full album in September. It’s kind of tasty like the yam.” Ghost causally points to the veg in the corner to describe the flavour we can all expect.

“But then again the yam is a unique taste. Some may not like it some may. I’ve never been asked this so I haven’t rehearsed this, haha.”

And before I can stear the conversation toward further publicity questions, somehow we get to discussing breakfast choices.

“Porridge all day everyday.” Another reminder of how reluctant Ghost is to fame and a change in lifestyle.

“You know what I tried the other day, these big oats from Sainsbury’s. Really massive. And was trying to cook them and they were taking ages to cook.”

“I think you have to soak them over night,” I blurb out.

“Is that what you have to do? I’ve been stirring them for so long thinking why they hadn’t cooked. Thanks for that – that’s gonna save me a lot of time. I’ve been adding more milk, milks burning and stirring faster. Man! Oh well.”

Amongst all this breakfast talk and general chat about living a normal life you almost forget this is a man who is on the up.

Having recently signed to Giles Peterson’s Brownswood Recordings, Ghost supported Nneka at Scala on her London tour date and did a string of summer festival shows.

It prompts me to ask about the serial aspect of it all. One minute it’s lonely walks through food aisles and conquering dinner the next it’s thousands of people enjoying the vibe?

“It’s a bit weird. The next day after Scala I woke up and was trying to figure out how to cook this bloody porridge, haha. For me I always wanted to be like that. In terms of fame – it’s not really what I’m doing music for. It’s not the fast track to success. I’d rather do my music. If life changes let it change but I don’t want it to be on the fame ting!”

And just like that Ghostpoet grips you again with his humbling personality and infectious laugh.

“The aim is to get to a point where they see me for me. I want to make music people can relate to. That’s what I like. Listening to music I can sit, stand or walk too.”

————-

Download Ghostpoet The Sound of Strangers EP for free.

check more music and live shows at Ghostpoet Myspace

Brownswood Recordings

Meet J-Live, a 1970′s baby whose craft was formed in the influential and particular environment that the New York hip-hop scene created for itself in the 1990′s. But despite being moulded in that golden era of hip-hop, J-Live’s music continues to trace his personal development in innovative form; therein lies his relevance today. Beatnik caught up with J-Live in his native New York City at the end of a pulsating and humid summer day.

Opposite me in the basement of SOB’s on Lower Manhattan, New York, sits J-Live. He has squeezed so comfortably into the end of a sofa that has accommodated countless hip-hop greats that there is no question whether he belongs there. Its white leather has been torn by anyone from Pete Rock, Guru, DJ Premier, Black Star, Prince Paul to DJ Spinna – while in their prime, too – and Justice ‘J-Live’ Allah fits right in. Hell, most of those cats were on his first album The Best Part.

While unquestionably in his element holding this corner of the room down, catching up with new and old faces in the New York scene as they pass by, J-Live does not intend to remain static. His illustrious, thought-provoking body of work renders him worthy of a statue, perhaps in the same spot he sits in during our chat, but his fans will know that J-Live’s music is as much about what’s ahead as past experiences, as much about summoning up life to date as beholding the new day.

“[My music] has evolved in the sense that the goal is to re-affirm the idea that while I do have this catalogue and this history, those are not the laurels that I rest on,” says J-Live, reclined in the sofa, slightly sedated after flying accross the country gigging and promoting his new single The Way That I Rhyme b/w Poetry in Motion.

“I do interviews and people ask me about The Upgrade, The Understanding or What You Holdin’ [all from J's fourth album Then What Happened?, 2008], which proves that I’m not here because of 1998 – 2002, I’m here because of 2006 – 2010. If that weren’t the case I’d be doing something else and looking back on my old stuff.”

Eager to find out what I think of the new single (“You heard the new record? What you think?”), it’s clear that J-Live’s hunger and passion for releasing new music remains unfettered. The Way That I Rhyme, his new single, has him in a new environment.

Now living in Atlanta and a proud father of three children, the “prety good kid” from 96th St. and 2nd Avenue in Spanish Harlem has new experiences to account for. His loyal followers know not to fret, though; J-Live’s knack for storytelling, delivering lyrical food for thought and riding out beats is still there.

Later on, when J-Live treats the crowd to new and old material at Spec Boogie and Homeboy Sandman’s joint album release party, he’s been introduced to the crowd by Peter Rosenberg as one of the iconic independent artists he would travel to New York to scope out in the radio host’s teenage years.

J-Live’s set brings us The Way That I Rhyme and Poetry in Motion, before he reverts to Braggin’ Writes from his 1990′s debut album The Best Part, which was finally released in 2000. Displaying his trademark skills as a simultaneous MC and beat-juggling DJ, the man sure has one or two things to teach today’s hip-hop artists.

Homeboy Sandman, bouncing off the walls in excitement on the release day of his new album The Good Sun, is more than happy to note J-Live’s presence, and takes the time to thank him for the advice he has received from his elder peer.

Whether through his music, as a member of the Nation of Gods and Earths or as an elementary school teacher in Brooklyn in the early 2000′s, J is a teacher at heart. Having decided to quit formal teaching before the release of All of the Above, his acclaimed 2002 sophomore album, he is still reaping the rewards of the trade in various ways.

“Oh yeah!,” he exclaims when asked whether the fulfilment of teaching is felt through his music. “I’m thankful for being able to influence others the way I’ve been influenced through music. The KRS’s, Ice Cube’s and Rakim’s of the world shaped my worldview, and apparently, from what I’m told by my supporters and my fans I’ve been able to do that through them. So it’s a beautiful thing.”

A few lessons have been learned by J-Live, too, especially concerning label politics and the struggle faced by independent musicians. At this stage, he has turned his own Triple Threat Productions into a fully-fledged label, hoping to evade a few music industry obstacles in the process.

“Triple Threat has been my corporate identity since 1999. I’ve always had the aspiration to develop it into a label, but, you know, life gets in the way. It’s always been a sort of production company next to the label; next to BBE, Penalty, etc. Now it’s just Triple Threat, it’s my label.”

And your work?

“Yes, I feel like now, I’m finally in a position to do it the way I want to do it. All dues have been paid, all lessons have been learned. I have a wealth of knowledge of what not to do, which allows me to identify what to do. You know, watching people fuck up [laughs].”

But you’ve always had creative control?

“Always. That’s the one thing that’s never been called into question. But now I am also able to invest into an artist the way their music deserves. Managers and labels have multiple artists and artists have only themselves.”

Hoping to circumvent industry bullshit, J-Live intends to carry on his development as a person and artist, the lines between which have always been blurred. “My personal growth is so intertwined with my music that you can’t dsitinguish between the two,” he says. “People identify me as J-Live as much as they identify me as Justice, you know?”

“[At this stage in my career,] I’m an elder not just in going from student to teacher and from son to father, but going from new artist to well-respected elder, you know what I mean? Being a representative of what’s considered a golden era, the independent movement of the early 1990′s, you know?”

Right. But you couldn’t have made records like ‘The Understanding’ at any other point in your life…

“And therein lies… it’s kind of like The Five Heartbeats? It’s a movie that takes a group that comes up in the 1950′s, they’re doing their thing in the 60′s, re-establish themselves in the ’70′s and come back in the 80′s. And you see all these trends in music pass by with this group. That’s what I meant by my first single, “Longevity”. That wasn’t just a passing thing; I really meant that.”

And as you say, the person is inseparable from the music, so not only is there a development of the sound but of the person, too.

“Yeah, you watch the growth, in the person and the music.”

In that way, then, do you see it ever stopping?

“Not any time soon. There’s a lot to be said, a lot to be done. And I’m still damn good at it.”

—-

J-Live on Twitter

J-Live’s Website

At a first glance it’s easy to put Polar Bear in that Spoken Word box but looking deeper he couldn’t be further from abstract poetry that label usually affirms.

Someone who can tell a good tale, his one-man spoken stories successfully feed our long affection for a good story told well. His pieces aren’t couplets of abstract rhyme or pretentious monotony, that although at first seem deep inevitably evoke a tiresome yawn.

Instead his stories are usually anything from 15 to 40 min customised soliloquies of everyday experiences and adventures. Surprisingly engaging and emotive, Polar Bear has an ability to create an atmosphere unique to any other artist in his radius.

With a big love for hip-hop citing the early flavours of NWA and Public Enemy as his favourites you can get a real sense of wordplay and compelling street attitude in his work.

Beatnik’s Steve McMinn caught up with the main man himself ahead of his new show…. to discuss the beginning, middle and unknown end of his very own fairy-tale.

It’s been almost Five years to the day since it all started for laid back Steven Camden, as we sit and he recalls his own story – the lights from the window reflect on his face and the sounds of the streets of London echo fittingly throughout our conversation.

After his very first gig, Slam, he was asked to perform at Glastonbury in 2005 in front of 300 people. His accelerated and somewhat accidental rise to fame was unlike so many Spoken Word artists but something he seemingly went along with at first.

“In between then (Slam) and June 2005 (Glastonbury) I didn’t have a clue what was going on, I was just rhyming at the time,” remembers Polar Bear, known to us as Steven. “So I did a little research and thought right okay, people are either angry political or kind of trying to be funny. I didn’t want to do either of those things, I just wanted to tell stories.”

A first timer at a festival, the City dweller from Birmingham felt completely out of his comfort zone or as he puts it ‘like Frodo Baggins”, mixing with new people and attitudes. But as Steven explains, it opened him up to new experiences and after two days he felt like he had fallen in love with the people around him.

After Glastonbury Steven was asked to go on tour as Polar Bear as an artist representing the Midlands, getting paid and commissioned to write.

“I was like hold on a sec … [laughs]… it blew my mind, yes I think I can do that… I remember hanging up the phone and thinking – this is an opportunity now, this is going to be shit hot! That’s when I first realised this existed.”

“I was temping at the time, so I came back and quit. I was like – right, I’m gonna start doing this now. I had to deal with the consequences afterwards (he laughs).”

Returning to that very first gig Slam, which he was encouraged to take part by a friend, it’s questionable
Whether some kind of fate had intervened to bring us Polar Bear, or simply a stroke of luck that changed Steven’s life forever.

“So (at Slam) they put your name in a hat and I swear if I hadn’t gone on first I would have left. The guy after me got onstage, turned his chair around and read a dark gothic story.”

A Graduate of Psychology, like a lot of young people leaving University, Steven left education with the stark realization of what to do next.

“I was an idiot, I went to Uni in Leeds to mature when I was 18,” he says of his younger days.”By the time I was 21 I was slightly more mature but before then it was a blur.”

For the next five years he would work temporarily, go away, work some more, go away and live in that cycle before stumbling across Spoken Word and doing that first gig at ‘Slam’.

What was it about spoken word that made you realise you had found something special to pursue?

“What excites me about Spoken Word is the sink or swim nature of it – it’s on it’s own. One of the reasons I didn’t run a mile is because I thought this is a real test, this is like go on then, say something.”

“Since I started I’ve been battling with the idea that – this is weird, they’re gonna pay me to talk. To going – you know what, I feel alright now, this is what I do, and I feel completely justified in doing it… but it’s still a bit weird though innit? (he cheekily smiles)…”

If you weren’t doing this now, what do you think you would you be doing?

“Not a clue lad, literally not got a clue… Luckily my time doesn’t revolve around me, at least half my time is concentrated on projects I’m either leading or am involved with other people.”

As well as writing and performing Polar Bear teaches at The Roundhouse in Camden. At the Battersea Arts Centre he holds creative writing workshops for kids and all over the country helps people with script development and other spoken word artists with their writing.

“I feel like I’m part of something rather than carrying it on my shoulders.”

How do you feel now knowing you’re an inspiration to others?

“Well to tell you the truth, I don’t know”
he smiles modestly and for the first time appears speechless…

“If I can help you craft something for your mouth, I can’t make you be a poet that’s for damn sure, I can’t make you be a writer, but I can make you realise you can do it and make it real. If I can help people do that by what I do then that’s wicked!”

What are your plans for the future?

“I’m planning on putting together a collection of short stories, each one with a different producer, in effect an album of musical tracks with Spoken Word over the top of it. Some people may call it Spoken Word with music, in my head it’s just music.”

“I like popping up on people’s stuff, I’ve been asked to do a lot of things including an album but it feels like – right why am I doing that? Am I doing that for what, chart success? Definitely not chart success, but notoriety for this?

And it’s not like Polar Bear does not have commitments elsewhere. “I can’t really commit to going on the road, 300 days out of the year, I’ve got a family, so I can’t do that and I don’t wanna do that. I couldn’t do the same thing 300 times every night, I’d punch myself in the face.” He bursts out laughing

“But it’s a choice and although saying all that, now we’re talking, I do feel ready to put together what could be an album.”

Polar Bear explains his love for the underground nature of what he’s doing, for the feeling of a new audience, when nobody knows who he is, knowing that a new audience is thinking ‘who’s this then? Go on then.

“It feels wicked, because now they’re listening, and it’s not the applause that’s the fun it’s knowing that people are listening, when you’ve got people it feels great, and you kinda want more of it.”

But you don’t want to get used to it?

“Exactly! Exactly – I did that last night I can’t do the same thing again.
For me someone who is interesting is someone who is different, a character. It’s like a playground politics thing; if i’m needing you all the time you wanna play with him over there who’s doing kick-ups. It’s not like I’m saying I’m the cool ‘Fonze’ kid, I’m just doing kick-ups. Come and do kick-ups if you wanna do kick-ups, if not we’ll still be over here doing kick-ups… and I hope there is an element of that in what I do.”

I turn the conversation to more mainstream artists and the type of Spoken Word in America.

“I don’t like most of it, because I still like the experience of watching something interesting, something I wasn’t expecting, and even when things are good I don’t find a lot of it very interesting.”

What’s the future for Spoken Word?

“Spoken Word will always be an underground thing, it’s always got to be fun and it can’t be easy, I could be gigging every night of the week, whether it be open mic or a feature thing but you’re gonna see the same people performing, to the same people clapping, to the same things, and what’s that?!”

A man who manages his own affairs I ask him about Labels and Management, and the business side of things.

“Why would I put myself in a position where my hands are tied, y’know when I’ve got all these ideas waiting to go. Luckily for me I can say this from a position where people are liking what I’m doing and there’s loads more to come!”

“As long as people are giving me the opportunity to do it, I won’t stop!”

——-

For more information about Polar Bear including new shows and to listen to his brilliant work hit up:  Polar Bear Online!.