Roots Manuva still has a lot to say

Despite his exalted place in UK hip-hop and a new collaboration with Major Lazer, rapper Roots Manuva is as modest and articulate as ever, writes Ed Power

RAPPER Rodney Smith lives in a nice house in the English countryside. For the past decade, the artist otherwise known as Roots Manuva has been based in Surrey, England’s famously minted ‘stock-broker belt’.

This is considered a highly unlikely state of affairs by many. People are shocked to learn the acclaimed rhymer shares a post code with hedge fund managers and professional footballers. Shouldn’t he be kicking back in a ghetto somewhere?

“It’s something journalists talk about all the time — it’s weird,” he sighs, his rapid-fire speaking voice almost as melodious as his fluid rapping style. “I’ve commuted between Tottenham and Surrey for the last 10 years. And they’re always going on that ‘why has the rapper swapped Tottenham for Surrey?’. I’ve never swapped it. Even when I used to record in Tottenham I was based in Surrey. I’d commute all the time.”

Smith is one of the true originals of British rap — an innovator and a proselytiser, with a fan-base that includes Arctic Monkeys, Damon Albarn and athlete Usain Bolt.

It wasn’t so long ago that UK hip-hop was regarded as a joke without a punchline. That the perception has shifted is to a significant degree down to Smith. Yet he remains largely a cult figure and does not enjoy anything like the commercial popularity of acolytes such as Dizzee Rascal and Tinie Temaph. Is this a cause of resentment?

“Those acts are on major labels,” he points out. “I’ve never been on a major. I’ve always stayed independent. Every one hundred thousand you sell on an independent is the equivalent of one million sold on a major. So, in a certain context, I am one of those artists — it’s just that I’m taking a slower, less heavily financed route.”

Naturally humble, Smith is hesitant whenever he hears himself lionized as one of the great voices of British hip-hop. He’s played his part. So have many others. He would not wish to deflect credit from his idols or his peers.

“I would never say I’m the greatest,” he says, casually breaking the first rule of hip-hop — never turn down the chance to big yourself up. “There are a whole bunch of shoulders I have stood on, people I have always celebrated. The sound system culture, pirate radio all of that.”

Smith had his ups and downs across the decades. He breached the UK top 30 with 2005’s Awfully Deep (a rumination on fear of success among other things), and repeated the feat with 2008’s Slime and Reason. However, 2011’s 4evervolution did not fare as well and the reviews were supportive rather than enthusiastic. There was a sense that he was running out of things to stay — an impression compounded by the four- year silence that has followed.

Fears of writer’s block turn out to be greatly overstated. In between school runs and trips to the supermarket, Smith has remained busy with multiple projects. Several high-profile collaborations failed to pan out but Smith is stoic about such reversals. It’s just part of the music industry. Meanwhile, he’s also toiled on a new Roots Manuva LP in conjunction with early 90s big-beat crew Coldcut and Beyoncé producers Major Lazer. Hopefully the project will see daylight by end of year.

He has, in addition, put together a new live band, making one of their first public performances at the BARE in the Woods festival in Portalington at the weekend. Facing into a new chapter in his career, these are exciting times, he says.

“I always have this crazy cycle after an album where I’m toying with different things,” he reveals. “Stuff was cooking but never got ‘sealed’. I write constantly — I’m alway dreaming up new things. Major Lazer have done quite a bit on the new record. I’m just not sure where it is going to to go on the record so I don’t want to say too much. I’m at the point where it’s all about putting the crazy jigsaw together.”

He could probably spend forever tinkering over the project (some tracks were recorded 40 times or more). However, he understands that art and commerce must co-exist in music and that there comes a time when you just have to accept that an album is finished. “Money has been spent on a body of work that needs to be released soon,” he says, half-jesting. “Otherwise there will be economic doom and gloom.”

Smith was born in Lambeth, a poor suburb of London. His Jamaican parents raised him in the Pentecostal church. It was a strict childhood in many ways but one in which music also played a prominent part. Open air sound-systems were a fact of life in his neighbourhood — one of his earliest memories was of neighbours setting up huge bass speakers in a park near his home.

He released his first single in 1998 and was regarded as paving the way for London’s soon-ubiquitous grime scene. He was duly granted a Mobo award for best hip-hop act. Always uncomfortable with being pigeonholed, Smith had soon moved on, though and, in 1999 collaborated with Leftfield on the track ‘Dusted’ — a top 10 hit that gave him his first taste of chart success.

With a detached house, young family and car in the drive, Smith leads a thoroughly conventional life in many ways. That is why music is so important — it is an escape valve through which he can briefly leave behind the mundanity of the everyday.

“It is the one area of my life where I can opt out of convention and try to be as free as possible. I’m not second guessing myself or worrying about things. Art is the only place where I can do everything I want to do. I can be a superhero — I can be inventive, I can be paranoid. A whole other level of catharsis can be achieved, within the art.”

Roots Manuva headlines BARE In The Woods, Portalington, on Saturday