In the weeks after his mother died, Tony Bontana sequestered himself in the apartment that doubles as his studio, located in an office block in Selly Oak, Birmingham. There, he worked on his album L’Humanité, often through the night, tussling with his grief over a symphony of manipulated gospel and quiet-storm loops.
“I remember recording Sittin’ on a Star (Freestyle), unable to get through a verse without crying,” he says today, over a cup of tea in a London cafe. “It was literally all I could do. Writing and performing give me that instant outlet, and it really helped. It’s vital to my survival, to be able to work through these emotions, to talk about them.”
