Young Fathers come as they are

Only a few times in a generation do you get a band like Young Fathers, a group so singular they defy categorisation. When I was thinking of ways to describe the Edinburgh-based trio, I was left blank – how do you pigeonhole a band that is purposefully enigmatic? Still, language is important, so here goes: Young Fathers are experimental, uninhibited, messy, political, joyful, chaotic, human, ecstatic, liberated, angry, transcendent, communal, misunderstood and, arguably, the best band performing in Britain today.

Graham “G” Hastings, Alloysious “Ally” Massaquoi and Kayus Bankole met as teenagers at a hip-hop night in the Scottish capital. Soon afterwards they were making music in Hastings’ bedroom, and at 15 were signed to a “traumatic” production deal whose fruits never saw the light of day. Miraculously they were able to reform as Young Fathers in 2008. The cynicism prompted by that chain of events has stayed with them. Despite their laurels, like winning the Mercury for their debut album, Dead, in 2014, Young Fathers have remained underdogs in the industry, a label they are simultaneously proud of and keen to shake off.

Their music is sprawling and amorphous, blending genres not limited to soul, hip-hop, rock, noise, pop and rap. Their references, too, are far-reaching: after trips to Ethiopia and Ghana, Bankole returned with shakers, drums and voice notes of kids crying to use in their acclaimed album Heavy Heavy, released last year. I saw them live three times in 2023, and their performances were ferocious, replete with chanting and ululating vocals. The crowd was whipped up into such a frenzy it felt like communion, especially after Hastings set off his war cry of “Fuck the Tories.” They’re not afraid to be provocative, but as they point out, they can’t not be political: Massaquoi himself was a refugee who fled war-stricken Liberia aged four. “We’re two black guys and a white guy – that’s always got to mean something,” he says.

When I speak to Young Fathers, it is shortly after the news they have been nominated for three Brits, including for Heavy Heavy. They’re incredibly generous with their time, and even more so with their answers. Instead of retreading old ground, they speak movingly about the impact mainstream success might have on them. It’s a complicated matter – how will a band that has only ever stuck to its guns and taken hits for calling out the UK’s warped political system, race relations, the royal family, and now the atrocities in Gaza, function with integrity within their increased visibility? Perhaps, as they always have: in a brotherhood that Bankole says has been built on “encouragement and celebrating and bringing out each other’s differences”. We dig further into it…

Nessa Humayun: You guys have been nominated for three Brits – congratulations! It feels like a major win for a band as political and genre-defying as Young Fathers. What would you want to come out of winning?

Kayus Bankole: It feels like the Brits have had a huge shift. I don’t know whether the people deciding things are confused and that’s why we’re nominated, and I don’t know why we haven’t been considered previously. Oh, and putting us down as an “alternative” act – that feels cheeky. Still, I think it’s positive.

Ally Massaquoi: In an ideal world I’d like to collect those three awards and that’s that. The creative industry likes to say “go against the grain” and “do your own thing”, but to me it sounds like platitudes. It sounds like they’re saying those things because it’s what people aspire to, but they don’t actually put that into practice. At the same time, the world doesn’t owe us because of the years we’ve put into our craft. I’m always conflicted because these awards mean everything and nothing at the same time. It’s definitely positive to be nominated because we’re a rare band – getting three nominations says that we can be mainstream too. And like Kayus said, we’re alternative to what? It’s just the music we make.

NH: It’s interesting because the more I listen to Heavy Heavy, the more I see it as a celebration. One line that has stayed with me is “Brush your teeth, wash your face, run away” – I’ve been trying to figure out what it means since I heard it. Sometimes it feels like a battle cry and sometimes it’s an invocation to give up. What does it mean to you?

AM: It’s preparation for the unknown. What’s the thing that unites us all? Brushing your teeth is renewal, something so simple like washing your face is a routine. It’s these sorts of things that link people together as a sort of glue – it’s a precursor to something. I was trying to put in a reference to the mundane and my experience of being at home during that time and seeing things in a more magical way, the ordinary into the extraordinary.

KB: Just wash your hands, clean your ass and get on with it. Wash your ass!

AM: Yeah, wash your ass!

GH: That’s really positive. I thought the opposite – it’s purely about Brexit, man! For me, the end bit is like turning a blind eye. Just ignore it because no one’s got any time to deal with anything and secretly, or not so secretly, everything’s falling apart. It’s like, I’m just going to keep myself to my wee self.

KB: To me, it’s an attitude thing. The whole track embodies that “just get on with your own business” attitude. Everyone’s got their own interpretation though.

NH: You’ve spoken about how you don’t get the radio plays you deserve and why that’s partly because you exist in an industry that can’t define what is purposefully enigmatic. Do you think there’s a reticence from the industry to recognise you, in part, because you’re punkish, anti-establishment and stand up for things, like Palestine?

GH: Yes is the answer, but I suppose we just do what we think is right. The idea of making music that we don’t enjoy is not for us, and the idea of not standing up for the things we believe in is not for us. It’s laughable to us that we might be a problem. At times we’ve been so frustrated by how things work – we feel like we’ve made a pop song for everybody and then realise that there’s people in the rooms of every big media establishment that decide what the masses get and what they don’t. Why is someone like that deciding that this is too grating, aggravating, or too tough for people? People are always making decisions on whether your music fits on a playlist, or if your styling fits, or if your performance fits… Or if your accent fits.

NH: I’m curious about how you’ll react to going even more mainstream – your views and morals could, sadly, end up closing doors for you. It’s a difficult question, but would you be happy for those doors to close?

KB: We’ve been doing it for fucking God knows how long, and our stance on humanity hasn’t changed. We have a huge affinity for fairness in every aspect. It’s part of our make-up.

GH: It’s just sad that having these opinions is considered dangerous – that saying “Don’t bomb children” is a point of friction. How blind are we at this point? Looking back to us losing the deal when we were younger, I’d say the doors have always been closed. We’ve learnt to enjoy ourselves in our own space, and we never wanted the doors open more than we needed. The priority is always going to be the songs that we want to make, or the things that we want to talk about, or the way we want to perform. What are we losing anyway? There’s nothing to lose that we would gain by compromising our values. What we talk about is reality and it’s not going to stop.

AM: It’s a funny one. I agree with all that, but at the same time, I’m still human. I don’t want doors being closed. At a surface level, they’re wrong for that, and we’re right. You know that’s the case, but everybody’s telling you that it’s not. You start to second guess yourself. If you have a family and other mouths to feed, it becomes even more complicated. Money gives you options, freedom, the luxury to actually pick and choose what it is that you want. That’s what being a human is. You have to make a decision and stand behind that. Are you willing to do that? The people who can afford to do whatever they want don’t care. Their ideals are different from someone from a working-class background. They can afford to close doors and not think about whether they’ve taken food from someone else. There’s a lack of space for our band and our ideas, so we’ve had to work hard. It’s that working-class mentality. It’s very easy to say we’re doing the right thing, fighting for the downtrodden. At the same time, we’re humans who get tired. That’s the overriding thing – we can all say “Fuck the Tories” but you have to look at the bigger picture too.

KB: I want to get to that place where we have the luxury of saying “no” more.

GH: You say “no” a lot.

KB: Not as much as I want, God damn it! We do say “no” a lot, but let’s not be disillusioned – it’s a luxury. I’ve got bills that need to be paid.