Ask independent rapper Russ what he hopes to get out of his London listening party and his first answer is “a depleted liver”. There’s an open bar here, after all. Hangover aside, even an artist who sells out arenas can sometimes prefer a slower evening having drinks with his fans. Having spent his twenties focused on what he wanted to achieve, he is quite keen to start living in the moment; a clichè, perhaps, but an apt one for this evening.
Although Russ needs little introduction, his latest format might. The singer, known for writing and mixing his own catalogue (as well as recently launching a haircare line inspired by his own enviably luscious curls) has now turned to hosting pop-up listening parties in vinyl bars; announced less than 24 hours in advance, they draw thousands of fans who queue for hours on end, but it’s first come, first served and only a lucky few make it inside to hear unreleased music from his upcoming album, The Elephant & The Rider. These parties are strictly no-phones-allowed, keeping the mystery alive for fans across the globe eagerly anticipating the new album.
For the London edition, Russ seemed just as excited to be there as everyone else. Joining him was Jessy Blakemore, the British-Zimbabwean singer-songwriter signed to Black Butter Records, whose soulful vocals and stripped back guitar songs caught his attention while he was doomscrolling on TikTok. A message led to a collaboration (the lead single of the album, “Recognize”,) with London marking their first meeting in person. For Russ, working with emerging artists also means listeners come to the music without knowing what to expect. “I’m kind of exclusively only trying to do songs with up-and-coming artists, because I think they’re the coolest. They have the talent,” he says. “You don’t know what they sound like, you don’t know the vibe. You get to listen from a more pure, organic place.”
In a jacket vaguely, and fittingly, resembling a Union Jack, Russ cuts a cool, relaxed figure. Warm and quick to laugh at himself, he was cracking jokes left and right, happy to admit when a song needed another chorus. Between listening sessions, Cold sat down with the pair to discuss making music together and the appeal of a phone-free evening.
The Cold Magazine (CM): Where did the idea for these listening parties come from?
Russ: For the album I put out last year, I thought: you know what I like to do? Be with fans in real life, have some drinks and listen to the music. We did a vinyl bar listening party in New York, and I was like, wow, what if we just do this everywhere?
For this album, I’ve been taking it across the globe, and it’s incredible. You just pull up to a beautiful vinyl bar. It’s important that it’s a vinyl bar, rather than, “Meet me at the pub,” you know what I mean? You’d feel like you were doing a bar tour. It’s not that.
I’m into the architecture of vinyl bars, the vibe of it. I’m very big on the analog aspect and just being in real life. It’s intimate: only about 150 people at a time.
CM: Why the no-phones policy?
Russ: Because, be here right now, you know? The first concert I went to was Nas and Damian Marley, the Distant Relatives album. Having my phone out wasn’t even a thought. I was just there. It was before everyone was recording everything and posting it on social media. I remember how great that experience was for me, my first concert. I think people would receive and ingest the music and the experience more if they weren’t on their phones.
CM: Jessy Blakemore is here with you tonight. How did you start making music together?
Russ: I found her last year, doom-scrolling on TikTok. She’s an incredible singer-songwriter. I heard the whole song and thought I could flip it into a sample. I hit her up and asked if she was down for me to sample it. You never know. Some people might be like, “No, this is my thing, I don’t want you to fucking touch it.” But she was so gracious and easy to work with. Once I’d sampled it and done a couple of verses, we went back and forth on the bridge, which was fun, adding something entirely new to it.
Jessy: I was so excited to get a DM from him saying, “I love this song, I want to do something with it.” He treated it with such care and made sure I was happy with it.
Russ: But it’s so interesting hearing it live. I was like, “London, sing it!” Then the hook didn’t come back, and I was like, “Oh. Never mind, don’t sing it, it’s not even coming back.” Why didn’t I bring the hook back? At the end it should 100% come back. Sometimes we get too far down the rabbit hole of being artsy.
Jessy: Thinking about it too much.
Russ (laughing at himself): Bring the fucking hook back, idiot. What is wrong with you?
CM: Was Jessy the reason to come to London, too?
Russ: 100%. I thought I was done with listening parties for the rest of the year. But then I thought, to not go to London when arguably the lead single of the album is with an up-and-coming London artist doesn’t make any sense. I hit her up a couple of weeks ago: “Are you going to be in town on these dates?” I was going to work around her schedule to make sure she was here. They’re the first people in the world who’ve seen me and Jessy in the same space together. So it’s got to be the UK. Can you imagine if I’m like, “Yo, you should come out to Iowa”? Why, for the first time? How about London?
CM: Tell us about the title, The Elephant & The Rider.
Russ: It’s a psychology term. Your body and subconscious system are the elephant, and your conscious system, your brain, is the rider. The rider swears it’s in control of the elephant because it’s on top of it. Then when your body goes left, when the elephant starts freaking out, the rider, your brain, quickly realises you’re not really running shit. The trick is figuring out how to make those concepts digestible musically. I’ve got a message, something to communicate. With this album, I’m trying to find that balance of not spoon-feeding you, but not making it so abstract that you don’t get what the fuck I’m talking about.
CM: What are you taking home from tonight?
Russ: A depleted liver. No, just another memory. I’m trying to enjoy everything. I spent all my twenties so focused on what I was trying to achieve. You spend all your time anticipating the next moment, and you forget you’re living inside the moment that one day you’re going to be nostalgic about.
For me, I’m trying to really, severely romanticise my life. The present moment.
