Young Fathers
Biography
In an era where musical authenticity is often manufactured and rebellion comes pre-packaged, Young Fathers emerged from Edinburgh's housing estates like a bolt of lightning tearing through the Scottish sky. This isn't your typical origin story of plucky underdogs – it's the tale of three young men who took hip-hop, electronic music, gospel, and punk, threw them into a blender, and created something that sounds like nothing else on earth.
The trio – Alloysious Massaquoi, Kayus Bankole, and Graham 'G' Hastings – first crossed paths as teenagers in Edinburgh's Drylaw and Muirhouse areas, their backgrounds as diverse as their eventual sound. Massaquoi, born in Liberia before moving to Scotland as a child, brought West African rhythms and a refugee's perspective on displacement. Bankole, of Nigerian heritage, added layers of Afrobeat sensibility, while Hastings, the sole white member of the group, grew up immersed in the city's underground music scene. Their friendship, forged in youth clubs and community centres, became the foundation for one of Britain's most uncompromising musical acts.
From their earliest recordings, Young Fathers displayed a restless creative energy that refused categorisation. Their sound – if you can pin it down – exists somewhere between Death Grips' abrasive electronics, TV on the Radio's art-rock experimentalism, and the communal spirit of gospel music. But even these comparisons feel inadequate when faced with tracks that can shift from whispered confessionals to full-throated anthems within the space of a single verse.
Their breakthrough came with 2013's 'Tape One', the first in a trilogy of releases that established them as one of Scotland's most vital exports. The album's standout track, 'I Heard', became an underground anthem, its hypnotic loop and urgent vocals creating something that felt both ancient and futuristic. This was followed by 'Tape Two' in 2014, which saw the band refining their approach while losing none of their experimental edge.
The music industry took notice when Young Fathers won the 2014 Mercury Prize for 'Dead', beating favourites like FKA twigs and Jungle. The victory was controversial – some critics dismissed them as too abrasive, too political, too different – but it thrust the band into the spotlight and gave them a platform to spread their uncompromising vision. 'Dead' was a remarkable achievement, an album that felt like a séance conducted in a nightclub, with tracks like 'Get Up' and 'Shame' showcasing the band's ability to make the political personal and the personal universal.
Their major label debut, 'White Men Are Black Men Too' (2015), saw them grappling with success while maintaining their outsider status. The album's title alone sparked debates about race, identity, and belonging – exactly the kind of uncomfortable conversations the band has never shied away from. Songs like 'Shame' and 'Queen Is Dead' found them at their most accessible without sacrificing their edge, proving that commercial appeal and artistic integrity weren't mutually exclusive.
'Cocoa Sugar' (2018) marked another evolutionary leap, with the band incorporating more melody and structure while retaining their experimental core. The album spawned 'In My View', perhaps their most radio-friendly moment, though even this concession to accessibility came wrapped in layers of sonic complexity that revealed new details with each listen.
Throughout their career, Young Fathers have remained fiercely independent in spirit, even when working within major label structures. Their live performances are legendary affairs – part concert, part revival meeting, part political rally. The three members move with the synchronicity of a unit that's been together for over a decade, their chemistry palpable as they trade vocals, dance, and create an atmosphere that's simultaneously confrontational and celebratory.
Beyond their musical achievements, Young Fathers have become important cultural commentators, addressing issues of immigration, racism, and social inequality with a directness that many of their contemporaries avoid. In post-Brexit Britain, their voices have become increasingly relevant, offering perspectives often absent from mainstream discourse.
As they continue to evolve, Young Fathers remain one of Britain's most essential bands, proof that the most powerful music often comes from the margins. In a world of algorithmic playlists and focus-grouped rebellion, they stand as a reminder that true artistic vision cannot be manufactured – it can only be lived, breathed, and shouted from the rooftops until the world has no choice but to listen.
