Professor Green’s education

Professor Green, real name Stephen Manderson, has written on his new album about his father’s suicide. Members of Green’s family are not pleased. The outspoken rapper was criticised for condemning the London rioters, but as the victim of a near-fatal assault, he felt obliged to comment, says Ed Power.

AS London burned in late autumn, Stephen Manderson — aka chart-topping British rapper Professor Green — went on Twitter and spoke his mind. The blow-back was immediate. Sitting at his computer, he felt he’d “been castrated.”

“My question was ‘why did people think they were justified for doing what they were doing?’ And I got smacked down for even asking it. Everyone was jumping down my throat. It was unbelievable — just incredible,” he says.

Twenty-seven-year old Manderson says had he been 14 he would have joined in the rioting that swept the British capital for four days in September. Having grown up in impoverished Hackney, East London, he can, without condoning the destruction, understand why so many young people joined the orgy of looting and random violence.

“They don’t have a voice, they don’t know how to communicate,” he says. “Personally, I’ve become a lot less angry since I learned the art of conversation. But there are those out there who cannot harness that. They can’t put a finger on what they are pissed off about. They are ignorant about their problems. So they lash out.”

Green may have found his voice but that doesn’t mean his problems are at an end. In 2008, his father committed suicide. Last year, Green was attacked at a nightclub in Shoreditch and suffered a near-fatal bottle slash to the neck. Both these incidents are grist for his muse on his second album, At Your Inconvenience, though his lyrical frankness has reportedly caused a split with family members, who have accused him of cashing in on his dad’s death.

A tight smile plays across his face when the subject comes up. “I find it therapeutic, if I am to be honest,” he says. “Writing about things that have happened to me helps. I’m not very good at talking about my feelings. It’s easier putting them down in words. It helps me make sense of what is going on in my crazy little brain. As an artist, you have to be honest with your audience. The people I grew up listening to, that was always their approach.”

It is not uncommon for British rappers to get started before they are old enough to drive, smoke or buy a drink at the clubs they play. Professor Green is different. A self-confessed tear-away as a teenager, he was too busy selling cannabis (this is how he acquired his stage name) to have any interest in esoteric pursuits. He only considered a music career when friends cajoled him into rapping at a party one night. “I made up some lines on the spot and everyone was like ‘hey, you can really rap’. I was like ‘you’re joking — not me’. That’s how it started.”

A seasoned hustler, it didn’t take long before he had talked himself into a record deal. His mentor was Mike Skinner, of the pioneering and hugely influential British rap outfit, The Streets, who had just set up his own record imprint. Some of his former proteges — most notably rising pop star Example — have complained that Skinner was a bit too aloof to serve as a nurturer of new talent. Manderson has nothing but positive memories of his stint on the label.

“The time I was with him was brilliant. He is an artist — he is going to have his quirks, of course he is. I don’t think they knew their arse from their elbow in terms of how to run a record company. That made it all the more fun. What you’ve got to remember is I wasn’t ready then. Example will tell you the same thing. However, it was a really, really important part of my journey. It’s a compliment to Skinner that me and Example are both doing well. Whether he is happy with that, I don’t know,” he says.

By early 2010, Professor Green had signed to EMI Records and was starting to generate media buzz. He’d come to terms with the death of his father and, for the first time in years, dared to feel positive about the future. Then he was attacked in Shoreditch and nearly bled to death. Sitting up in the hospital bed, his first thought was that this was it — he’d had enough of the music business. He didn’t see how he had any choice but to quit.

It was Lily Allen who convinced him to reconsider. They’d crossed paths on the live circuit. When she heard he intended jacking it in, she called up and offered her advice. To give him a sense of what he would be missing, she also invited Manderson on stage to duet when she was supporting Muse in London’s Wembley Stadium.

Staring out at the 80,000-strong audience, Green could see her logic. Turning his back on music would make things worse, not better.

What else would he do with his life? Go back to selling drugs? Shortly afterwards, he went into the studio and recorded his debut album, Alive Till I’m Dead. It debuted at number two in the British album charts.

A terrier-like chap with a short fuse, Greene tries to keep out of trouble. But his fame — in Britain he’s practically a household name — means this is sometimes difficult. That’s why he travels everywhere with security. It’s for the public’s protection as much as for his.

“For the most part the response I get is very pleasant,” he says. “I had to slap someone the other day, which I know I shouldn’t do. Most days people can call me a c**t, whatever. It goes over my head. Thing is, you always get someone who has a bit of an issue, who isn’t happy in themselves. And, on the wrong day, they’ll have a go. Of course, if I put my hands on someone, that’s exactly what they want. You need to avoid that.” He shakes his head and sighs. “Why should I have to put up with walking down the road and people calling me a dick-head. I wouldn’t do that to a stranger. Just because they see me on TV they think they can open their mouths.”

As a rapper he has also had to face down the accusation that his music has somehow contributed to the degeneration of British youth. As Britain’s moral majority tried to understand why so many joined the riots, more than a few blamed the aggressive urban music the troublemakers had allegedly listened to growing up.

“It pisses me off the way they blame rap,” says Green. “If I have kids of my own I’ll be responsible for them. How the hell am I supposed to be responsible for anyone else’s children? All you hear is people going on about how fucked this country is, how it is all in ruins. It’s easy for them to turn around and blame the kids. They don’t want to look any deeper than that.”

* Professor Green plays Academy Dublin on Saturday. The new album At Your Inconvenience is out tomorrow.