Social media presents us with an infinite number of options when it comes to consuming music. But how much of what we see stays with us for longer than the time it takes us to scroll to the next thing? How does art that requires patience and time survive in a climate governed by fast moving mediums? Yet, arguably, there is a growing appetite for art that challenges this status quo, and spoken word artist Dan Whitlam is at the forefront of this wave.
Interestingly, Whitlam’s weapon of choice has been TikTok. Bringing content that is not purpose-built for the doom-scrollers into their domain is bold, yet his music has been a huge success on the app, with the Londoner building an impressive following of over 100,000. Although Whitlam’s tracks might lean towards the melancholic, they are always beautifully juxtaposed by his warm, baritone vocals which serve as the perfect vessel to grab the attention of anyone that happens to be scrolling by.
Spoken word wasn’t always confined to the screens in our pockets; back in 2002, Def Poetry Jam took it across around the world. The TV series was a place where up-and-coming poets shared the stage with legends like DMX and Mos Def. Seeing some of the biggest artists in hip-hop at the time perform poetry on primetime television gave a global audience an entirely new perspective on a genre that had previously existed outside of the mainstream.
Since then, spoken word has largely remained on the periphery, though acts like George The Poet and Kae Tempest have made groundbreaking progress over the last decade. Whitlam’s current success suggests he could join them. The ability to distill the universal experiences of lovestruck twenty-somethings across the world on tracks like ‘Quick Intimacy’ and ‘Exit Sign’ are what have gained him such a loyal following.
As he releases his ‘Own Mind’ EP, NME met Whitlam to discuss why he enjoys writing about love and loss so much, and how he intends on making poetry more accessible.
What was your upbringing like?
“I was born in London, then I straight away moved to Russia. I grew up in St Petersburg and then I was there for about five years, and then I moved to Turkey and grew up in Istanbul until I was 11 before coming back to London. Musically, I had influences like Tarkan from Turkey, and all these sounds which were very different from mainstream Western culture. In Turkey, my mum got ill so we came back to London, and then she sadly passed away when I was 11.”
What is it about the performing arts that you were drawn to?
“I’ve got Tourette’s [syndrome], and at first whenever I was on stage it would just go away, and there was a feeling of ease being up there. It’s so ironic that when more eyes are on you, you feel more free. I think being in the spotlight is nice, isn’t it? Whether it’s your friends laughing at your jokes or being on stage, it’s a nice feeling. I enjoyed reading someone else’s words and it continued from there. Then, I started writing my own words and I was like, ‘Oh this feels even better.'”
You said you wanted to make poetry more accessible, but what does that actually look like?
“I think the overriding topic of spoken word on social media is that it’s ‘cringe’, it’s dead, it’s not an art form people like, apart from this tiny little percentage of people who really enjoy it. First of all it would be to try and make it – and I hate using the word – ‘cooler’, but that’s what it is.
“In schools, they should start realising that rap is rhythm and poetry, and start teaching work from more mainstream or relatable people, you know? Dissect Kofi Stone, or dissect Chance The Rapper… Tupac wrote this incredible poetry book. Make things more about day-to-day issues going on now, because people get interested in stuff that’s happening to them, rather than stuff that happened in 1650, you know?”
How do you manage to make your music work on a platform like TikTok, which is typically geared towards instant gratification?
“The answer is I don’t know. But I hope it’s because there is some sort of validity in what I’m putting out there, and people are enjoying what I’m doing. What people keep saying to me is that [my music] grabbed them in the moment. A lot of the time people say that they don’t like poetry; I hated poetry at school simply because it was either like poets from a long long time ago that I found no kind of comfort or relatability.
“I think it’s about having an attention-grabbing hook: in the first three seconds you say something big, bold and relatable – that’s how I work. I try and say things that are quite universal.”
How do you maintain focus while managing such a strong online presence?
“It’s tough. As much as I do enjoy doing the social stuff, I would love for it to just be about putting a song out and that’s it, right? I think that’s the fight that every artist in the world is going through at the moment. The reason I filmed trains is because I didn’t wanna film myself, but I then did one video filming myself and I was like, ‘OK, I probably need to do more of this.’
“I think you need to buy into these little social gimmicks, you’re trying to create a brand. I want it to just be about the music, but if you have to buy into certain things you have to buy into certain things.”
Why do love and loss feature so heavily in your writing?
“After losing my mum at a young age, I’ve always had a mad respect and adoration for the women who come into my life, whether they’re friends, lovers or family. Love naturally is so entangled within that, and I write really passionately about it because potentially I didn’t have a lot of that when I was growing up. Breakups happen, love and loss happens; people find comfort in how I write about the latter so candidly.
“In the beginning when I put [music] out, I was like, ‘This is way too personal’. But then it takes one person to be like, ‘Wow, I felt this way too – I didn’t know that you felt that way as well.’ Traditionally, men have been put down in terms of being so open. A lot of artists do this, but I think a man speaking about things so openly and being vulnerable is going to breed nothing but positivity.”
“It’s ironic that when more eyes are on you, you feel more free”
Is there anything that you’d like to write more about that you haven’t yet?
“Yeah, my mum, that’s one thing for sure, I don’t think I ever will though. I wrote a poem about me getting stabbed, and it took so long because I was like, ‘I wanna get everything right.’ I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do my mum justice, so I don’t think I’ll ever write [about her].
“I’ve got another tour coming up, and I’d love to write a few more upbeat things. At my live shows at the moment, everyone is very engaged, but I’d love to see people lose their head a little bit and have the best time.”
As a young person on the road to success in music, how do you avoid getting caught up in the rat race?
“It’s horribly tough. I was talking to the team a few months ago about how I was working 12 hours a day in my regular job – which I’m now blessed that I’ve been able to stop – but I was then going home and working again [on music] until midnight. I was in this really horrible pattern of doing that Monday to Friday, and then trying to burn it all off by doing something fun on the weekends – but ended up closer to burning out.
“There is this really great book called the Four Hour Work Week, and it’s based on this idea of being able to take everything and condense it into the productive hours of working. It changed my life, in terms of just knowing how to utilise my time correctly. I think ego is just such a big thing in any industry, but for me it was like, ‘I need to work the hardest to get the most views, but ultimately, what’s good will always rise to the top.’”
Dan Whitlam’s debut EP ‘Own Mind’ is out now via Needwant
The post Dan Whitlam’s debut EP mines spoken word gold from emotional hardship appeared first on NME.
