In Conversation: Speech Debelle
The Mercury Prize has been around for three decades, yet it has only been received by the total of four female artists: PJ Harvey, Ms. Dynamite, Speech Debelle, and last year’s winner Little Simz. Now, let that percentage sink in. Better known as Speech Debelle, 19-year old Corynne Elliot left home after arguing with her mother and ended up spending solid four years homeless, all the while expressing her journey through poetry that would later shape her debut album. This is my speech therapy, this isn’t rap. After returning home, Speech got signed by Ninja Tune’s imprint Big Dada, which led her to the long-awaited release of Speech Therapy (2009) and the Mercury Prize win the same year. This album also happens to be one of the most important, fundamental and formative records that not only shaped my twenties, but also expanded my view on hip-hop as genre. One of the questions I kept repeatedly getting over the years (since it’s not a secret I have a thing for hip-hop) was naming my favorite MC, which is still one of the hardest questions to answer. Are we talking contemporary? Old-school? Mainstream? Backpackers? Regardless of the criteria, never in my life have I been asked to name my favorite female MC. Let that sink in again. This is a men’s world, but it wouldn’t be nothing without the trailblazing women who changed the face of a traditionally male genre, including my favorite female MC right here. Not that anyone asked. Happy International Women’s Day.
KELLY KORZUN: Honestly, I don’t even know where to start. God only knows how many times I had imaginary conversations with you in my head, and now we’re finally doing it.
SPEECH DEBELLE: We finally got it done. Thank you so much for your patience and your determination. Look, when I read your questions, I was so impressed. I’ve done thousands of interviews over the years, and it’s so rare to see questions that spark something in me, spark my thought process.
KK: Which is mind-blowing because my deep dive into the alternative UK hip-hop scene started with you. Specifically, with Better Days (feat. Micachu). Hearing these words coming from you means a lot. Full-circle moment.
SD: But, just to take it to a deeper level, music is an entity – it’s alive. The fact that I can be in the studio, at home, anywhere, hear a beat or lyrics and just start freestyling and making a song is in itself evidence that music must be an entity because a song has just been delivered to me. I think the way you in particular listen to music is another stage of that entity wanting to be recognized. Many people are listening to music, but not on the same level you do, and I think there’s a strong possibility that the way you’re listening to it is another version of being a vessel to the entity.
KK: Energy doesn’t lie. You can’t fake vibrations and frequencies.
SD: I’m not particularly religious, and I didn’t grow up in church or anything like that, but, reflecting on Better Days now, I can tell that this song is a prayer in a rap form, and there’s something really powerful about a prayer. My favorite song (and I was just listening to it yesterday) is Human Nature by Michael Jackson. This song unlocked everything for me, but there’s this remix by SWV where they kept the same top line, but added a bit more of hip-hop drums to it, and the lyrics go right here, be right here, no fear, have no fear. What is it about this song that makes me tear up? Is it joy? Is it pain? I have no idea what feeling it is. This song is a prayer, and, as people, we need prayer. We might not necessarily need religion, which could be argued, and I’m not on any side, but we need prayer. There has to be a moment when we say we either need help outside of ourselves or we need to give gratitude for something outside of ourselves.
KK: Exactly. As people, we don’t need religious ceremonies or false Gods to become holy because we are innately holy. There’s divine in all of us, and each one of us is God. Go get baptized in the ocean of the people. On that note, let’s go back to that strong start with your debut album: winning a Mercury Prize in 2009, being the first woman to win the award in seven years, and all the success that followed. When making your sophomore album Freedom Of Speech with Kwes, who, if you ask me, is one of the best producers in the game right now, did you feel pressure to deliver on it to justify that success? How did you go about tackling the infamous second album syndrome?
SD: The second album was really difficult. This classic thing of having your entire life to write your first one, and then being asked to deliver another one within a certain time frame, while also touring and doing interviews. Because of all that, I didn’t feel like I knew what I wanted to make, which is the reason why, after Freedom Of Speech, each album was roughly four years apart. You need time to experience things, you need time for ideas to naturally come to you. We didn’t even have an album title, so I went with Freedom Of Speech because it worked well with Speech Therapy. Lots of other things were happening at the time like the Egyptian revolution, the London riots, so the world seemed to be erupting, which was also matching what I was experiencing in my personal life coming out of a relationship and wanting to implode out of it. This is the energy I tapped into, and this energy became an album.
KK: Did you know Kwes in person, or was he proposed by the label?
SD: No, I didn’t know Kwes, but he was probably one of maybe four suggestions. Kwes is quite an introverted person, extremely opposite to me in the studio. Speech Therapy was written by me without any music, it was all in my head, and I didn’t necessarily have access to the studio. When I got working with Wayne Lotek in the studio, I would just explain to him what was in my head, but when I went in with Kwes, I didn’t have any of that. Do I write something and then you make the music around it? Or do you make music and then I write? So, what would happen is that he’d just start making something and I’d start writing over in the chair. It was more about putting things together and seeing what works. Watching him making beats was amazing because he is a genius. He’d literally make beats on the keyboard by using the letters on it as a drum pattern and beat, so it looks like he’s typing, but he’s doing a drum pattern.
KK: He also has sound-to-color synaesthesia, so, in addition to the normal auditory sensations, he would simultaneously experience color. Say, a keyboard would be seen in note-color associations, which is completely different from everyone else’s perception. That’s one of the reasons why I was wondering what his process was like.
SD: Yes, but it also was a very removed process. All things combined, I think that Freedom Of Speech doesn’t have the same sense of identity compared to other albums I made. Elephant In The Living Room is one of my favorite songs on the album, which is the closest I could get to myself, but the album itself isn’t my favorite.
KK: It’s interesting because this particular track stands out from the rest of the album. It’s very dark, moody, and it has a somewhat claustrophobic feel to it.
SD: That’s how I felt at the time because of all the battles with my label and in my personal life, and what you’re describing is somebody feeling trapped. Yeah, it definitely felt like that.
KK: Also, the narrative on Freedom Of Speech has changed from an unapologetic confession about your early years to your devotion to the act of service, doing the work, living for the message. What do you think informed this drastic transition?
SD: Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to make an album like Speech Therapy again because it was never intended to be an album. Looking back, it was more of a teenager’s diary, a sense of me against the world, of not being heard. At that time, I had so much resentment towards my dad, so much resentment towards my mom, but these things cleared up over time because, as you get older, you develop a greater range of emotion and understanding why certain things happen. Some of the material was written when I was 19, but the album didn’t come out until I was 26. If anyone was to look at their diary at 19 compared to 26, they’d be like: go calm the fuck down, it’s not that serious, you know?
KK: One of the biggest shifts that has happened in the industry is that today many artists feel a lot more comfortable opening up about their health conditions. Loyle Carner’s Hugo (also produced by Kwes) was heavily informed by his ongoing struggles with dyslexia and ADHD. When you followed up on my email, at the very bottom of your email it said please excuse any typos due to dyslexia. Given that, what’s your preferred writing method when you’re working on new material?
SD: With my last album, the process was quite different because music and lyrics were done separately. Typically, I would work with a beat that’s been sent to me or I’d be in the studio with Dem Drums and we’d make something, but I wouldn’t focus on the lyrics at all. Then I’d come home, press record on either my voice notes or GarageBand, press play on the beat and then just freestyle whatever comes to me. By the end of it, I’d play it back and I’d hear what the chorus might be, or what the theme is. Firstly, you get out of the way and just allow yourself to be a vessel for whatever message is being received, and then I’d transcribe it and play with the words based on the flow. I’ve had the most fun making music this way, and it’s definitely something I’m planning on carrying on.
KK: This layering process is very similar to painting, and I like that you’re using your voice as an instrument first just to set the tone, and then you start adding more detailed strokes, the lyrical content, the words, the nuances.
SD: Exactly. It’s a very playful process without overthinking or taking things too seriously. You can just remove yourself from being a listener and a critic and just enjoy the beat and the flow, which is very different from my other albums.
KK: Do you ever write any random notes or lyrical ideas down?
SD: All day, every day. But I think the biggest inspiration comes from the things that people say when they’re not filtering themselves. We can be so poetic when we’re not overthinking it, when we’re just in the flow, and I’m not even talking about rappers or writers, or anyone in the creative field. Everyone can say something simple yet very profound.
KK: Let’s go back to Better Days for a second. Even back then you could absolutely tell that Micachu (Mica Levi) had an incredible charisma. In 2014, Levi branched out into film composing, and this year she won Best Soundtrack Award for The Zone of Interest at Cannes Film Festival. Interestingly, Mica and Kwes are now collaborators, forming a music project Kwesachu. What was your first impression of Mica and how would you describe the dynamic between you two?
SD: Mica sent the vocals over, and her choice of cadence just blew my mind. If you send something out to a singer for a chorus, in a way, you already have an idea of what you’re gonna get, especially if it’s a hip-hop beat, but what she sent back was if she never heard hip-hop. I’ve always been a big fan of collaborating with people that are a bit outside of hip-hop because there’s no reference point for them, no sense of how it’s supposed to sound. Later in the day, I went to the studio with Mica and Kwes because they were working on that project, and if you believe in constellations and stars, they definitely came from the same constellation – just like Kwes, Mica is in the area of genius. At one point, I remember they showed me an instrument that Mica had made that basically could sample itself. What I really appreciate in both of them is that they live the way I think artists should live. There’s a bit of envy in me in the way they live, to be honest. They live like artists, like nothing outside of that really exists. I don’t even think I even see them on social media, and I can’t imagine Mica tweeting or doing anything like that.
KK: Yes, both of them are very much under the radar on social media. They just do their own thing.
SD: And I think it’s a very beautiful way for artists to live. When I was working on my last album, the marketing team was pushing me to do more posts and clips, and I did a few, but then I gave up because I’m not a content creator, and I don’t like it. So, I really respect people like Mica and Kwes because they know themselves well enough to say that it’s outside of what they need to be doing to live their purpose. It’s a beautiful leadership quality.
KK: To be honest, I don’t think there's a right or wrong way of doing it. Sure, there needs to be a focus on your craft, your mission, what you’re putting out there, but, ultimately, it comes down to whether or not social media contributes to your creativity or distracts you from being the artist you wanna be.
SD: That’s absolutely right. I totally agree with you.
KK: In March 2010, you co-wrote Sun Will Rise with Bonobo, taken from Ninja Tune’s ‘XX’ Boxset, which ended up having an alternative version featuring Andreya Triana. How did that collaboration with Simon come about? Did you know that he was gonna release two versions and how do you feel about the audience potentially comparing these two tracks?
SD: Since I was in a battle with the label at the time, my manager was trying to mediate between me and my A&R who was also the head of Big Dada, which is a sister company to Ninja Tune, but I was ultimately signed to Ninja Tune alongside Bonobo. I’ve always wanted to work with him because he’s dope, so Ninja Tune arranged it. We went to his house and he played a couple of things for me, including a skeleton version of this song. As soon as I heard it, I knew it was the one and started writing right away. They came back another day to record it, then Simon added the sax and everything else. Eventually, my relationship with Big Dada completely fell apart, and because I got dropped, this track ended up having another version. To be honest, I was a bit pissed because I remember being at the festival, and as soon as I heard the first eight bars, I was like: oh, shit, this is the tune I’ve done with Bonobo!
KK: First off, kudos to Simon for creating such a masterpiece and Jack Wiley from The Portico Quartet for delivering that beautiful sax. The detective in me was really struggling to identify which version came first because they both got released in March, yet on two separate albums. What you just said explains that it was just politics.
SD: We met again at some festival or a music show at some point, and I remember telling him that I was pissed – I was a bit spicy at that time of my life. Just because you’ve taken away my words, you can’t take away my inclusion on how the music sounds. If I didn’t put my lyrics on it, maybe he wouldn’t have ever heard the sax line, you know? Because I’m dyslexic (dyscalculia), I’m always communicating things verbally when working on music. Unless you’re a sound engineer or someone who plays an instrument, it’s really difficult to get your production credits, especially as a woman, because we’re in the industry where men make the thing, and women feature on the thing. That said, this track ended up having two beautiful versions.
KK: Yes, the music industry is still very much male-dominated, not to mention hip-hop as a genre, but we all know that it wouldn’t be what it is today without women who broke barriers for female rappers. Lauryn Hill once said is that instead of seeing life as a series of ups and downs, she sees it as a series of learning and mastering. Looking back, what do you think was the biggest loss and gain in Speech Debelle’s life?
SD: The biggest loss was my innocence. I’m a survivor of sexual assault. It’s still something I need to constantly work on, and I can’t think about anything else that had such a huge impact on every area of my life. For years, I had to ask myself if I’m just reacting to trauma, or if this is who I am, you know? My sense of identity was destroyed. I’ve been going through years and years of counseling and therapy, but I didn’t realized it until my thirties when I watched Wade Robson’s interview about being abused by Michael Jackson where he said that the reason why he waited for 20-something years to talk about it was because he didn’t know it happened. Suddenly, all of these memories came back into my body. The biggest gain happened just a few years ago when I woke up one day, one absolutely normal day, and decided it was time to call the police. While I was making my warning cup of tea, I kept asking myself: why today? There was this phrase that I kept hearing in my head: today feels like a good day, today feels like a good day. So, I picked up the phone, called 111 and said that I’d like to report sexual assault. Keep in mind, I’ve been Speech Debelle for a long time now, but when they asked my name, I said my name is Corynne Elliot and broke down in tears. Giving back that shame and guilt to the person who assaulted me allowed me to finally regain my sense of identity, and since then, I started introducing myself as Corynne again, which I haven’t done since I was 26.
KK: Thank you for sharing this, and I’m very sorry it happened to you. What’s interesting is that the biggest loss and the biggest gain are two sides of the same coin: the trauma and the liberation from it. Things happen when we’re ready for them to happen. Only last year I felt ready to share something extremely personal during one of my public talks, something I haven’t shared with anyone for over two decades, which is my teen suicide story, and, in those moments, we die, and then we are born again.
SD: Absolutely, but also there’s so much work that we need to put in to pretend that it wasn’t a thing, and when we finally get to free up ourselves, we get to free up all that energy. Since then, I’ve probably been more child-like than I ever allowed myself to be.
KK: All of that freed up energy becomes a fuel for creativity and self-expression. A while back, I asked RY X about his take on the role of music, and he said that music has this beautiful capability to be an emotional catalyst. How did your take on the role of music transformed over the years and what is music to you today?
SD: What’s interesting is that I think I’m coming full circle at the moment. When I first started, the world of music was quite selfish, it felt way more powerful than me, and because I became successful very quickly, being Speech Debelle Mercury Prize winner became my role. There was a lot of ego involved, which made me question everything from that point on. Is this song gonna be on the album? What would they think about it? As time went by and as I got older, music stopped being my main source of income, it pretty much isn’t a source of income at this point, and there’s something freeing about it not being my job anymore. Instead, it’s the work that needs to be done, and I’m choosing to be a vessel again. I mean, I never stopped being one, but it’s hard to be successful and still remember that this is what you are. Music industry isn’t based on feeling anymore, so it’s hard to remain that vessel when it’s all about stats and numbers, when everything around you requires data, and the vessel is like: well, I don’t really have data, you know?
KK: As an interviewer, I don’t approach many people for my own reasons, but anytime the artist management would ask me about stats, there’s really no point in moving forward because we speak different languages. There are things that have value without it being quantified. Speaking of impact, can you recall the most memorable feedback you’ve received from your fans?
SD: Someone showed me a tattoo of Daddy’s Little Girl and it scared me. It’s one of the songs I never remembered writing; all ll I remember is sitting down to write it, and then it being the words on the page. When the album was finished, my A&R asked me what I think my siblings are gonna say when they hear it, and only then it hit me: oh my God, people gonna hear it. When I saw that tattoo, I felt so vulnerable, so naked. My experience of being abandoned by my dad was now a stamp on her body, an acknowledgment of that part of her journey, a physical representation of things meaning things and this song being way bigger than I thought it was. To be honest, I don’t think I ever performed that song live.
KK: During one of his lectures at MIT, Lupe Fiasco said that he doesn’t believe in writer’s block and that there are some times when you just shouldn’t write; just put the pen down and go experience. You once mentioned that you believed you had retired after the third album, and, last summer, you released a new album Sunday Dinner On a Monday. What made you realize that you were finally ready for a comeback?
SD: Firstly, I agree with Lupe Fiasco, but it’s not the case for everybody. Some people are really good at constantly doing it, so I think it depends on the type of artist or writer you are. For me that’s definitely true, and I’m allowing myself to take time before embracing ideas and transforming them because you need to move that energy around and give it life. Sunday Dinner On a Monday was the title that just came to me, and then I was like: and so it begins, the entity is back. Once the title came, it started to become an emotion, but it also haunts you in a way, so I might get physically ill, or start waking up in the middle of the night to record voice notes. You can literally feel this entity taking over, but once it’s taken form and manifested, I can go back and be alone for at least a couple years until it comes back again.
KK: There’s this theory that I heard from Erykah Badu that 85% of the people on the planet are followers, 10% are creators or leaders, and 5% are observers. As creators, we belong to a very small tribe, a group of people who built a life around their devotion to art, which can feel lonely and isolating. What advice would you give to all the emerging artists out there who are trying to break into the music industry today?
SD: I’d say you’re already doing absolutely everything right. There are so many things we can beat ourselves up about, things like timing and comparison, but none of that matters because there are 8 billion people on Earth, and some of them are gonna like you because there’s space for everyone. The only thing that ultimately gets you to where you need to be is consistency. You don’t have to be better than someone else, you don’t have to be a better singer, writer, or producer. People, especially young people, should be reminded that they know more than they think they know, even if society thinks otherwise. There’s no particular path of how things need to be done, so you’re doing everything absolutely right as long as you keep doing it.
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