Born in Neasden, north-west London in 1991, George Mpanga, AKA George the Poet, started rapping at 15 and signed to Island Records at 22. He left the label to develop a more expansive style of spoken-word storytelling; his Peabody award-winning show Have You Heard George’s Podcast? uses fiction and music to tell stories about city life, society, history and creativity. It began its fourth season last month on BBC Sounds. He has curated the opening night of the Southbank Centre’s London literature festival, with his choices linked to his new poetry anthology, Part of a Story That Started Before Me: Poems About Black British History.
Since your last podcast series in 2021, you’ve got married and become a father. How has that changed your life and your work?
My son’s three months, so sleep is a thing of the past. But my family’s become my centre of gravity, my ultimate priority. That used to be my work, although my work’s still there, and I’m in love with it as ever.
What did podcasting give you creatively that making rap records didn’t?
In the music industry, we were always working on short-form material, three to five minutes of work at a time. I come from grime, which is about bursts of lyricism and rapid-fire delivery, but I love detail and depth. I wanted to create an immersive space in which to tell a really involving story, and for it to have an effect like the storytelling of my childhood did on me. The possibilities of audio are limitless for that.
Which childhood stories inspired you?
I remember losing myself, losing hours, binging on the Harry Potter books. I’ve never had another literary experience like that, such a sustained, deep dive into a whole new world.
Your podcasts are cinematic in their sound. For this series, you and your long-term collaborator Benbrick worked with the BBC Concert Orchestra at Abbey Road studios. What was that like?
I hadn’t been aware that Abbey Road was where a lot of my favourite movie music was recorded. In preparation for launching my podcast, I’d listened to a lot of John Williams classics, trying to reverse engineer those feelings they’d given me into my work. I’d always wanted to use classical instrumentation to tell emotive stories that were immense, about Grenfell, about the migrant crisis, global stories from a place of deep sincerity, but I wasn’t in that world. In this series, I drill deep into the independence struggles of African and Caribbean nations, trying to find out how communities are never transformed economically by their contributions to world culture. And there’s nothing like an orchestra to help you tell stories. Nothing!
The slam poetry champion Joelle Taylor won the 2021 TS Eliot prize, and the Forward prize for poetry launched a performed poem category this year… has spoken word finally become mainstream in literary culture?
You don’t hear it being talked of as a novelty any more, which I did at the start of my career. I found that funny, given its long history. There was an element of classism to that, I think. But I’m thrilled by how spoken word is now seen over here and internationally. There is a lot of understanding of spoken word poetry as something that’s socially motivated, which is what you want from art. I wish that was still the priority in some of the music that I grew up loving, but it gets very difficult when genres get commercialised, expand and become popular. You know, money changes things.
You wrote a poem, The Beauty of Union, for Prince Harry and Meghan, and read it at the royal wedding. How was that?
The energy that day was electric. Super-happy. The poem that I wrote was inspired by those guys, and I feel like they have exceeded my expectations in terms of the power of their love for each other. I remember Meghan giving me the words “love always wins” – she told me that when I was about to propose to my wife, and it became a recurring theme every time we talked or saw each other.
You’re currently studying for a PhD at UCL about the economic and cultural potential of black music, and when you were 18 you went from state school to Cambridge. How did that shape you?
I was excited to be there, met some great people, and I’m glad I had that opportunity to completely immerse myself in academic rigour. But I was lonely. There were a couple of students of African descent but not many people from my social scene. I became irreversibly reclusive in that time and I’ve never really gone back.
Suella Braverman says multiculturalism has failed. How would you respond?
Suella Braverman is doubling down on a tried and tested strategy of divide and conquer. The nakedness of her racism is something that she wears with pride. I try not to talk about politicians too much, but she is vile, disingenuous, opportunistic, and has very little respect for the intelligence and the integrity of the British people. Those of us who live in multicultural communities get along. No one who comes into regular contact with people from different walks of life is on the streets, rallying about how they feel disturbed, bothered, oppressed, whatever, by other cultures. These Tories will get what’s coming to them. They are not the British people.
As well as fatherhood, a PhD, festivals and podcasts, you’re midway through your memoir, Track Record, which comes out next spring. How do you relax?
Music’s always involved. Unplugging from the world and catching up with friends and family whenever possible, whether it’s on the phone or in person, is something we also have to do. I’m always saying you can find peace right in front of you if you’re looking for it.
George the Poet Presents is at the Southbank Centre’s London literature festival on 20 October
Part of a Story That Started Before Me: Poems About Black British History is published by Penguin (£16.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply
