Loyle Carner - Yesterday's Gone

The Guardian 80

Carner’s domestic-flavoured rap works because of its modest scale, non-accusatory vulnerability and its perfect matching of music to lyrics

Loyle Carner cuts an impressively idiosyncratic figure among the ranks of hotly tipped British rappers. His breakthrough came not with a swaggering, self-aggrandising statement of intent, but a 2014 track called BFG, an understated, heartbroken rumination on the death of his stepfather. Carner sounded on the verge of tears – “Of course I’m fucking sad,” he rapped at one point, his voice choking with emotion, “I miss my fucking dad.” After less than two minutes, the track petered out, as if it was overwhelmed by grief, or as if all concerned had suddenly reconsidered the wisdom of recording something this emotionally raw. He parlayed his burgeoning success not into a clothing range or a record label, but by starting a cookery course for teenagers who suffer, as he does, from ADHD. “Stop trying to be the fucking good Samaritan, just enjoy your life,” advises a friend on one of his debut album’s non-musical interludes – not skits so much as snatches of conversation captured by Carner on his phone. “There’s more to life than getting waved,” responds the rapper. It might sound a bit sanctimonious were it not for the fact that Carner sounds so waved when he says it that you’re astonished he’s still capable of getting his phone to record.

Related: Loyle Carner shares his family strife to create awkwardly confessional hip-hop