Pozer: Forward Riddims

With a record-breaking run of early singles, the breakthrough British rapper blends Jersey club, drill and the grime he grew up on to powerful effect

“I’m just chilling, smoking, living – things are not so bad,” Pozer says. The 21-year-old rapper from Croydon is too humble. Earlier this year, he made history as the first UK rapper to have his first two singles – his debut Kitchen Stove and its follow-up Malicious Intentions — land in the UK singles chart at the same time. The snippet alone for his next release, I’m Tryna, has amassed over ten million views on TikTok. A hat-trick is on the cards. “I’m ready for it, man. I don’t want to ruin the streak,” he jokes.

By blending elements of Jersey club with the cold glint of UK drill, Pozer has concocted an irresistible, viral formula. Kitchen Stove, which peaked at No. 22, encapsulates this: Jersey club’s trademark bed squeaks; pulsating drums that hit like a four-punch combination to the chest; dreamy, neon synths; and uncompromising lyrical dispatches from south London’s streets. Malicious Intentions, is a shade darker, built around a window-rattling bassline. It’s been streamed ten million times on Spotify since its release this April.

“I was paying a lot of attention to the American drill scene, specifically in New York – Kay Flock, Dougie B and those guys – but I was taking in different sounds from different areas, too. I liked what was going on in New Jersey; the drum patterns, the synths,” Pozer explains, reflecting on his immediate influences. “When it travelled to New York, they made it a bit drilly, darker. I connected with that. When I linked up with my producer RA, he just understood what I was trying to make.”

In 2018, Unknown T’s Homerton B crashed into the mainstream as an authentic drill cut with danceable energy, opening the door for drill artists to enjoy chart success. The track peaked at No. 48 on the UK singles chart and became the first drill song to be declared silver by the BPI. Pozer’s jumpy beat choices, built as much for the club and the afters as they are for the block, are Trojan horses for Pozer’s vivid descriptions of the life he’s left behind. “You hit the nail on the head,” he agrees. “I think you have to feel like that as an artist – you need to be lyrically free and say what you want to say. But most definitely, the production side of things allows me to do more.”

Kitchen Stove paints a picture of a troubled adolescence, where the threat of violence is constant and the paranoia of nights in the trap house is numbed by backstrapped spliffs and dirty Sprite.

It’s all juxtaposed with an aspirational determination to “level up and do greatness”. Pozer spent several months on Kitchen Stove’s lyrics while working at a painters and decorators’ shop. 

“I was living life, going through the motions and writing things down. I’m just cultivating these bars as I’m going on,” he says, rattling through his memories. “And it took months, but I knew what I was doing. I’d be getting up at dumb o’clock in the morning, massive spliff at the bus stop, chuffing it. I’d not eaten anything but I’d be writing bars; I’d be on the bus, writing bars. Other man would be arguing on the roads at dumbfuck times in the morning. But I’m at work, writing bars, serving customers, writing more bars. I put a lot of myself into it.”

Did the experience of working an everyday job convince Pozer that it wasn’t for him? “Honestly, a nine-to-five can be for anyone. Do it. It’s money – go and get it. But it’s about goals, innit. My job wasn’t lining up with where I wanted to be, with what I wanted from life,” he says, the passion rising in his voice. “I wanted more for myself. I wanted to do more – not just for myself, but for the people around man – so I tried something different. And I’m still trying, man.”

Pozer’s been writing for as long as he can remember. “I used to write loads. I never really cared for anything else,” he admits. He often found himself in trouble in school because of a restlessness he couldn’t shift. “I was a lickle bad breed, man. They used to tell me off! I’d behave for the teacher, but only when I was ready, innit. More time, I’d just get bored, man. I’d take the piss and push it too far. All’s well until it’s not,” he laughs. 

One day, he hustled his way to the computer in the corner of his classroom, put on a pair of headphones, fired up YouTube and blasted some of grime pioneer JME’s iconic cuts: Serious, Juju Man and Shut Up and Dance. “Then the teacher came and nabbed me.” 

Grime emerged before Pozer was born. He’s the same age as Dizzee Rascal’s Boy In Da Corner and was in primary school when the JME- and Skepta-led renaissance of the sound began in 2014. Yet the genre is fundamental to his approach to making music. Some of his core musical memories are built around watching Channel U with his uncle, absorbed by the huge personalities of Crazy Titch, D Double E and Tempa T.

“I was very young. I was always shown music. I was always intrigued, you know, watching through all those raw videos where everyone was spitting,” he reflects. “What I liked was that everyone in the scene was distinctive in terms of how they were spitting. They all had their own styles. They cemented it for me.”

Pozer’s musical upbringing extends beyond grime. “My mum is Jamaican and British mixed, innit, so I was getting the best of both worlds; she loves garage and funky house,” he explains. “And I’ve been listening to Vybz Kartel at home for as long as I can remember, too – before I even knew what he was saying.” 

These are the puzzle pieces of Pozer’s sound: his Jersey-inspired beat selections are a nod to his mum’s love of dance music; he delivers commanding flows over frenetic productions in the mould of a grime MC; and he’s setting himself apart from his peers like the larger-than-life veterans who inspired him with their own, distinctive styles. “There’s no parameters or boxes in my thinking,” he says. “I’m just making what I feel like making.”