Loyle Carner: Hugo - Track by track review
We catch up with the latest offering from Loyle Carner, one of the UKs most influential modern rappers
Last updated: 25th Oct 2022
Originally published: 24th Oct 2022
There are few artists who are so universally loved and appreciated as Loyle Carner. The South London MC has carved his own path within the UK rap scene and has almost singlehandedly created a new genre within it. A genre that has, since the release of Yesterdays Gone in 2017, inspired a whole new era of MCs that have looked to replicate his soulful, jazzy approach to rap, as well as his captivatingly languid delivery.
Yet, whilst these tones have been prevalent throughout his previous two releases, now on his third album, Loyle has smashed preconceptions. ‘Hugo’, a record that, whilst still featuring the wordsmith's same approach to music, sees him almost untethered. It’s an urgent record, one on which he explores the self - particularly his mixed-race identity - ignited after he recently became a father.
With massive production from Madlib, the record ebbs and flows through tracks that both resemble the melancholic vibe on which he has curated his fame, and sharper, punchier numbers, which are found solely in this instalment.
So, we thought we'd take a look at the new album on a track-by-track basis and see what all the fuss is about
Hate
The first single off of the new record, and an instant shift in vibe for Loyle this LP. Cinematic in its production and incisive in its lyricism, Loyle uses this track to be raw and honest about the turmoil he has experienced in his life. He breaks down the barriers faced by people of colour in modern-day Britain, by punching upwards at the hierarchy and the spiel often forced upon those in struggling communities about their prospects in life. This is no longer the Loyle that joked around in a booth with Tom Misch. It's a mature Loyle, one who recognises his position, but isn't yet comfortable with it, and the attention it brings.
Nobody Knows (Ladas Road)
The second track on the record is one on which Loyle really starts to delve deep into his identity as a mixed-race man, a central theme throughout the record. The track opens with “I told the Black man he didn't understand / I reached the white man, he wouldn't take my hand,” such lyrics exemplify how being mixed race leaves him in the middle, not being accepted by either side. Such musings are explored through the context of his father's death, and the son he has now birthed, as he doesn't want his son to experience what he did. It's introspective and truly sets the explorative tone of the record.
Georgetown
Bookended by an excerpt from the poem ‘half-caste’ by Afro-Guyanese poet John Agard, Georgetown again takes another step into Loyle's exploration of his ethnicity. The track uses the metaphor of a piano, and how both its white and black keys constitute a full instrument. This idea, taken from Agard's poem, quite beautifully illustrates Loyle's acceptance and subsequent love of his identity and shows how as the piano is full and whole, being black and white, so is he.
Speed of Plight
This number on the record feels like a safe space for Loyle to just sit and vent on the state of music over an unobtrusive beat. The track explores Loyle's annoyance with how the music industry seems to value a beat over a message, and how he feels he is preaching only to have people tune out. This idea goes further into the real world throughout the track as he uses his enticing wordplay to explore our desensitisation to violence. He urges love for one another, and, much like previously stated, we need to explore the deeper meaning in things to truly move forward.
Homerton
Homerton in East London was where Loyles son was born. With a more recognisable Carner-esque beat, he uses the track to explore how he saw his father as flawed and to some extent resented him for it. But now, as a father himself, he realises that he is also flawed, and he finds new respect for his father. The track acts like the beginning of the journey in the album, where in the tracks before he was angry at his father, to now realising how difficult it is to be a parent, and how nobody is a bad person. The track ends with a clip from an interview, which epitomises this beautifully: “Sometimes, the parents need their kids more than the kids need the parents.”
Blood on my Nikes
Taking a brief step away from the exploration of his family, on this track, the South London rapper comes back to his heartfelt exploration of the normalisation of violence, in how he casually washed the blood of his trainers as a youth. He also makes searing points on how violent experiences promote greater paranoia and mistrust between different groups of teenagers, which only increases the likelihood of more violence; a tough but necessary track.
Plastic
With an arrestingly jazzy instrumental, Plastic sees Loyle continue on ideas from the last track. This time delving into the social and political discourse on the topics, and how it often puts emphasis on the wrong things. Particularly, he does this through holding companies like the BBC accountable for “the plastic guy at the paper that thinks that Kano looks like Wiley”, but also through society's obsession with ‘plastic’ things, like our apple products and other capitalist-driven commerce, and how he himself isn't innocent either.
A Lasting Place
The start of a trio of gorgeously produced tracks that come back to him coming to terms with fatherhood and his relationship with his parents. A Lasting Place sees Loyle at his most vulnerable on the record, opening up on the idea of how when you’re having a bad day, you end up shouting at your kid. The songs are about how this is okay, as long as you go back and apologise, and repair what you may have briefly broken. But most importantly, how all of this is okay. We all make mistakes. A stunningly open and introspective track many will relate to.
Polyfilla
Continuing without a break from A Lasting Place, and for good reason, Polyfilla is Loyle thinking that he has mastered fatherhood, through methods stated, and then crashing back down to earth with another mistake, whether that be not being around, losing his temper or getting frustrated or being late to pick up his son. He battles with intrusive thoughts that he isn’t cut out for it, that worry of impostor syndrome. Words can't express the enchanting openness of these last few tracks.
HGU
The end of this record sees Loyle nail home much of what he's been trying to say, with a small story of him forgiving his father, that has a much bigger message. It's both about forgiving his father, and also about Loyle forgiving himself. “If I hold on to this, carry around this albatross my whole life, it’s weighing me down,” is a line which perfectly captures this. Whilst the weight of his childhood turmoil has helped him fly, a common occurrence within hip-hop, it can cripple you if you let it go further than an initial youthful rebellion.
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