How teaching in prisons and a new mixtape is inspiring UK rap innovator Jords

This story appears in Huck 82: The Music Issue. Order your copy now.

“I’m still the same me as I was on my last album [Dirt in the Diamond]. Anathi Hadebe Khanya Phansi, who painted my last cover, even did this one too,” Jords explains as we chat via a stuttering video call. ​“Mixtape J is different this time because it’s like I’m taking off the mask – and revealing I’ve been wearing one the whole time.” Now independent, spiritually uncloaked and fuelled by fury and reflection, the tape finds Jords reaching back to his teenage self, not out of rose-tinted nostalgia, but to reignite the fire that sparked it all: that no-nonsense, youthful blaze that has always driven music’s sharpest innovation.

But over the last 18 months or so, Jords has taken his pen beyond the booth, leading writing workshops at institutions including HMP Isis, Aylesbury, Guys Marsh, Swaleside, as well as the Feltham Prison & Young Offender Institution. ​“Words are so powerful, man,” says Jords with conviction in his tone. ​“Grime is raw. Rawness and honesty to me go hand-in-hand, and it’s something I’ve told inmates in writing workshops.” 

Some of his most honest and grounding conversations, he explains, have happened not in studios or green rooms, but within prison walls. ​“There’s a layer of ego that just isn’t there in jail,” he says. ​“We’re all in the same place, trying to find some sort of peace as we pass time on this earth. Out here, we sugar-coat things to protect people’s feelings – but in there, the truth is currency. They’ll tell me straight-up what they don’t like. That kind of honesty cuts deeper, but it’s real.”

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Jords goes on to explain how fellow musical artist and friend AdeJosh helped organise a recent showcase inside south-east London’s HMP Isis, where inmates performed their own music in front of friends, family and psychologists. ​“It was beautiful, man,” he recalls. ​“Some of those performances in front of five people? They’re more powerful than a stage in front of 10,000 people. If you’ve really got love for this music thing, then moments like that – they remind you what it’s all about. You realise that what matters isn’t the numbers or the charts, it’s the impact. This is the kind of rage and feeling I’ve been chasing with my latest project.”

That project, Mixtape J, is a future-facing nostalgia fold. There are comfy R&B flips reminiscent of the early ​’00s DatPiff era, with modern soulful flourishes courtesy of FLO’s 2022 track ​‘Another Guy’. But just as effortlessly, the mixtape switches gears to deliver a satellite network of brazen rap and grime-tinged think-pieces. Late tape gem ​‘Fallen Soldiers’ and the anthemic opener ​‘Snake Skin’ impress with slick lyrical sermons – but the title track sees the rhymer contemplating turning down a Buckingham Palace invite: reinforcing the tape’s tightly-wound cassette of consciousness. 

With the concept of legacy and longevity at the forefront of his mind, Jords explains: ​“I used to crave recognition, wanting to be remembered,” he admits. ​“But now, I feel like it’s going to happen naturally. We’re just a small part of a much bigger picture.” He warns against creating art purely out of a desire for algorithmic praise. Jords believes that when you focus too much on how you’ll be remembered, ​“it stops being about the substance and becomes just about the memory itself.”

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The rapper also fondly recounts the early work of Krept & Konan, Fret Deezy, and the late Cadet as inspirational backbones of his tape – aligning the wide-eyed with the wise. ​“Up until now, I don’t think I was fully channelling rage. The music wasn’t dishonest, it just missed out a part of me. I’m getting back to the essence of why I do this. Back when I started, I was just trying to have the best verse, the coldest bar. But that’s still part of me – the kid who started rapping at grandma’s, doing grime sets, bootlegging mixtapes with my brother. I miss that. So, this project is about stripping things back to that unfiltered place – keeping the art alive, but staying rooted in hip-hop, in grime and in London.”

Although Jords has long since moved on from his major label era, his independent mindset toward the craft is stronger than ever – he’s pressing reset not on how he makes music, but on how he moves through it. ​“There wasn’t really a break between releases, to be honest,” he explains. ​“I haven’t stopped working since the last album dropped. Between touring and studio sessions, I was constantly recording. Even during the rollout for Dirt in the Diamond, I was already laying down tracks for Mixtape J. It was more like a break from the spotlight, you know what I mean?”

In the true spirit of mixtape magic, Jords recruits a salvo of rhyming comrades for Mixtape J​’s casting sheet, such as RV, Jordy and Marger. The fan-favourite ​‘Fuji’ sees him team up with grime legend Bashy, and close friend Kojey Radical. “‘Fuji’ came together really naturally. To be honest, me and Kojey were playing games more than making music half the time,” he explains. ​“We’d just chill – he’s heavy on Marvel Rivals, but I’m more into FC 25 or FIFA. I’m smoking him [laughs]. Bashy’s verse is really special on this song. It came in last minute because he’s been so busy filming. I swear it’s actually the first thing he’s recorded since winning the MOBO.”

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In the multiverse of superhero comics, outside of rare, controlled crossovers, fans won’t often see a Spider-Man swing over from the Marvel pages into DC’s Metropolis to eat a bagel with Batman. The UK rap scene isn’t too different. While there’s plenty of love, there’s just as much tribalism – cliques, collectives, crews. Crossovers happen, but they’re not always expected. One of the more persistent SEO headaches Jords has had to deal with is his name – and the frequent mix-ups with Jordy, the equally sharp-tongued emcee from north of the River Thames.

“You know what’s funny? I posted one picture with Jordy and now everyone thinks we’ve got a tape on the way,” laughs Jords. ​“Me and Jordy find it funny. I’ve known him for years. We’ve recorded, linked up and we talk,” he adds. ​“But people come up to me all the time telling me that ​‘A13’ [Jordy’s track] is a banger. I’m like, ​‘Wrong guy.’ Then he’ll say the same thing happens to him – people come up saying they love ​‘Glide’ [Jords’ 2019 breakout track], thinking it’s him. I ask him how it is working with Scorcher; he asks me how it is working with Wretch 32. We’re rap cousins by design.”

Jords opens up about the sampling on Mixtape J, revealing he only used two major samples: one from FLO’s aforementioned ​‘Another Guy’ and the other on the outro, ​‘Rest’, which samples the 1990 track ​‘Come Unto Me’ by the gospel group Take 6. He explains how the FLO sample came to him during a sleepless night, where he found it easy to mould its drumless, acoustic arrangement, making it easier to sample and mould into his own vision. Reflecting on the Take 6 sample, he shares, ​“My dad gave me a cassette of theirs years ago, and back in the day, me and my brother would listen to it on repeat.”

A consistent thread in Jords’ mindset and creative focus lies in his reverence for language and the power of the tongue. He politely shrugs off his short film work from previous projects like Dirt in the Diamond or his debut album Almost An Adult, not out of a place of regret or dismay, but more of a rallying cry, refocusing and reforging. Almost like the elastic human exterior present on the album artwork is splitting apart, and his true rap innards are clamouring to the surface to claw back the mic.

“I was feeling like: ​‘Cool, I’ve done the film stuff and I’ve done big projects, but I can’t lie, I just want to rap.’ I know I’m one of the best of my calibre. I just want to feel that buzz again, says Jords. ​“People around me were like: ​‘You can do it, but no one’s really heard you do grime like that yet.’ I thought: ​‘You know what? I should.’ I’m great at it. I just spent a lot of time writing grime. I even performed some of it at grime shows in the Czech Republic, just to get battle-tested and sharpen my skills even more.”

The conversation turns to the concept of legacy and egotism. ​“I wouldn’t call legacy selfish – I’d say it’s self-indulgent. To me, it hints at a lack of presence in what you’re doing if you’re too invested in the idea of a legacy.” He elaborates: ​“If you’re too caught up in how a moment will be remembered, you’re not fully living it. The here and now is more important. The same goes for creativity. That’s why I made Mixtape J. It’s art for the sake of art, nothing more.”

Niall Smith is a freelance writer. Follow him on Instagram.

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