He’s embraced pop maximalism, rode the wave of cosigns and trialled the “star” thing. Now, Harlesden-hailing singer-songwriter Kamal. is in search of a rawer, truer sound, with a story that is gradually unfolding – and everyone’s leaning in.

City gloom, wobbly Spring weather and a tense socio-political climate. But somewhere amidst the bleak and ominous, North-West London’s Kamal. is finding glimmers of light and making magic out of it. With his second studio album, how the fuck does everybody else manage? out 17th July, he resurfaced from drowning, and ready to dive into the deep end of his inner world order. And in an attempt to make that plunge easier, he’s stripping back a few layers. 

It’s been almost a decade since he was signed to Neighbourhood Recordings in 2017 – “Crazy thing to say, by the way,” he laughs – a roster that includes artists like Mercury Prize winner, Dave, who he’s previously collaborated with on “Mercury”, singer-songwriter and producer Humble The Great, and masked Mancunian rapper Meekz. And since establishing himself as a distinguishing voice in London’s bustling market, particularly with the 2023 release of his reflective yet charming debut album, so here you are, drowning, he has begun mapping out his niche in the interior of British pop. Oftentimes, starting these with simply a few chords, an instrumental and a question.

And this is something he’s always done. My first meeting with Kamal arrived as teenagers; myself, 15 years old, and him a year younger. We’d spent a year of our youth in overlapping circles, just before he began his starry ascent to the Brit School, still studying at a high school a 10-minute bus ride from Wembley Stadium. My most consistent memory of him, besides his wit and humour, was how he’d, whether he really wanted an answer or not, persistently ask – ‘Why?’. In the moment, it may have bordered on annoying, but now, in hindsight, it nurtured the soil of what his creative vision would quickly sprout into.

When asked where that inquisitive nature came from, he’s quick to divulge: “Virginia Woolf. I’m reading a few of her short stories – she’s one of my favourite authors.” His affinity to the modernist writer lies not just in her literary style, but also in her world perspective. “Her philosophy and way of writing are so all-encompassing and involve all the facets of life that I think are interesting,” he says. Worlds away from the young man I teen’d with, gallivanting the streets from Alperton station to Embankment, he’s more assured. As is his curiosity, his fluidity through life and his embracing of the present, similarly to Woolf. “It makes it all seem equal in a way that I find really appealing and honest.” So, with Woolf as one of his literary (and life) north stars, he’s committed to the same cause – with his music as a whole, and this record especially.

Out today on 20th July, “suffer”, the third single released, lays it all out on the table to the tune of a pacey, reverberating electric guitar buzz. It’s a love song where his soft vocals oscillate between a glitter and a grunt as he pens losing himself in his lover, clasping love in a world where loneliness is ever more the default. They’re the kind of thoughts that you wrestle with in youth and young adulthood against a backdrop of world chaos, unravelling like a diary page where thoughts spill right off it. Such is the case for much of Kamal.’s discography; he exists within a sweet yet sombre tension where beautiful melodies fuse with confronting lyricism. 

Listen to “suffer”…

The album is undoubtedly him trying to make sense of the world around him. “Honestly, it was a good way to reflect on the universality of certain emotions,” he shares. “I think anything that you experience that you think is entirely unique, there’s at least a kernel of that emotion that you can find in other people – that’s also beautiful about art in general.” He uses this idea to examine how the realisation that the most intimate of your emotions, the ones that may feel too secretive or shameful, are often shared. That’s the core of this record’s message: “Yes, there’s a universality in suffering, but we are all experiencing it. So much of modern-day culture is about dividing us, but if we find the commonality in our struggle, then we can emancipate ourselves from it.” Nevertheless, it also forces him to confront some home truths: “The answer really is that I don’t manage very well.” Thus, the album title was born. 

For Kamal., it’s in this questioning that he’s become less focused on the end result – or at least it being a polished one. Through living and creating, he’s come to the conundrum of life, one growing more complex with time, perhaps. Rather than run away, which might be more comfortable, he’s sitting in the discomfort and examining those feelings that “might not be pleasant”, but are important to interrogate, nonetheless. “This is the first time, really, I’m turning autotune off in the music,” he says. “I want it to be raw. I want it to be untethered. I want it to have a feeling about it that isn’t as curated and as refined as lots of my previous stuff was.”

Naturally, that required a slight pivot, sonically. Now, he’s interested in “more live, organic-sounding instruments [which] made it feel easier to carry that message across.” With this freedom, he pushes the boundaries in a bid to become the kind of musician he wants to be. “It was definitely terrifying at first, stepping out of the comfort of padded electronic autotune production, but I feel like there wasn’t a way that I could authentically express myself and these themes without taking that risk,” he says. So, he went back to basics, starting with the instrumental. “I feel like it dictates which direction of thinking I’m going to go,” he says. For Kamal., the best songs are those written from a very honest, true and real feeling, before being hyperbolised. “Drama and music are what I really love. That’s what I was going for with this.”

“I have a fear of being claustrophobic and putting myself in a box creatively,” he says. So, to combat this, he’s returned to instruments at their most unrefined. “There’s definitely an electronic thread throughout it,” he says, because he loves electronic instruments generally, and feels like “they always sit nicely over the more traditional band setups,” but a lot of it is more traditional. That classic guitar, bass sound – an almost rock, indie setup that he wanted to nail. It meant treading out of his comfort zone and instead gaining confidence in one definite constant: himself.

“I will always be the common thread between it,” the singer-songwriter says. “I’m such a lyric-driven person that if you read along, it’s definitely still a command project. It’s about that growth, and I’m growing as a person. The way that I’m looking at the world is changing, and I wanted that to reflect in the music.” And we’ve already heard (and seen) that in the lead singles that have come from the 13-track album: “no friend, no lover” featuring Keaton Henson, the English composer he grew up loving –  and “i don’t care”. Both track the uncanny nature of relationships in the digital age – the former as a rejection of fickle friends and foes, the latter capturing the more grief-filled detachment that comes with one ending. Elsewhere, British alt-pop/R&B darling Natanya joins him on “back then”, a quintessentially London collab that serves as an inside look at their back-and-forth conversations on being young creatives in the music industry – “she’s just so tasteful that I knew she would get it,” he says.

All things considered, performance will be a big part of this record’s storytelling. A chance to physically bask in both the melancholy and beauty of this record with fans, listeners and beyond. “In the attention economy we’re living in, getting people’s attention for an hour is the most thing that you can do these days,” he observes. “Everyone is so occupied with other things, and to experience the music live, as it was created, in those rooms, is really what I’m looking forward to the most.” 

From homegrown city pubs to the literal Underground (“if that’s even possible”), for this next tour, Kamal. is looking to stage shows that feel more like intimate jam sessions. It’ll be a side-step away from what he’s done before, but he’s learned that: “Taking risk is always worth it in the name of expression and honesty, and even if you’re scared, it’s often evidence that you’re actually stepping in the right direction.”

For now, he’s embracing the newness that this part of the journey requires. Continuing to tend to those persistent questions, but honouring the foundation they’ve stemmed from. “This feels like an almost coming-of-age moment for me as an artist – establishing myself and feeling confident in my creative decisions,” Kamal. says. “But if anything, it’s inspired me to do it again afterwards, use this as momentum to then switch up again.” Already, he’s future-facing; working on the music that’s coming beyond how the fuck does everybody else manage? “The stuff I’ve been making recently, since the album has been mixed and mastered and whatnot, is definitely weirder,” he shares, that familiar cheeky glint on his face still. “I’m kind of vacillating between these different parts of myself, and I’m ready to flip it again after this.”

Pre-save how the fuck does everybody else manage?

Words – Aswan Magumbe