Better known as Rag’n’Bone Man, Rory Graham has the body of a Viking and the voice of an angel. Neil McCormick hears how he went from care worker to crooner
Rory Graham is going to be huge. Then again, the 31-year-old singer-songwriter – 6ft 5in tall, heavily tattooed and built like a Viking – wasn’t exactly small to begin with. “People make comments, say things about me that aren’t very nice,” he shrugs. “I’m no Justin Bieber. But if you don’t like the way I look, that’s your problem, not mine.”
Under the name Rag’n’Bone Man, Graham writes songs that draw on blues, soul, gospel, folk and hip hop, and sings them as if his life depended on it. “There’s a reason why you write a song, it doesn’t come from nowhere,” he says. “You have a feeling and you think I’ve got to get this out of me. And if it’s emotional, you want to be able to sing that song and look somebody in the eye and know they feel it, too.”
Rag’n’Bone Man’s first major label single Human – with its simple, heartfelt refrain “I’m only human after all / Don’t put your blame on me” – only just missed out on the Christmas number 1 slot and is already on its way to becoming a pop classic. “It was born of frustration,” says Graham. “Everybody’s got problems. We need to take a step back sometimes and realise they are the things that make us who we are.”
Before it was even released, Human had been performed on The X Factor by one of this year’s contestants (Emily Middlemas). Hundreds of versions have since popped up online, recorded by amateur singers from around the world. Then, earlier this month, it was announced that Rag’n’Bone Man had won the Brits Critics’ Choice Award, an annual title given to the new artist deemed most likely to make an impact. Previous winners include Adele and Sam Smith. “I thought they had made a mistake,” says Graham. “I’ve been around a long time but I still feel like I’m only beginning.”
In the YouTube era, a teenage singer making videos in his bedroom can become a star overnight. Graham is a reminder that slow and steady can be a better way, learning a craft, paying one’s dues. “I could have put out an album years ago,” he says, “but I felt I had better material in me. I wanted to make every song count.”
Raised in Uckfield, Sussex, Graham started out as a rapper. “The hype and energy around that music got me excited,” he says. “It was stupid teenage stuff: girls and weed.” His parents separated when he was a toddler, and his early life was spent with his mother and older sister. “We didn’t have a television. We had a record player,” he says. “My mum’s an old hippie at heart. She played guitar and sang: Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, that kind of thing.” His father was also an amateur musician who played in local blues and folk bands. “It sparked my imagination when I was too young to even understand why.” His favourite singer is the Chicago bluesman, Muddy Waters. “He sounds like he’s barking. It’s not that melodic, he proper belts it out,” he says. “But whatever he’s singing, you know he means it.”
At the age of 19, during a blues session in a local pub, he was urged by his father to get up and sing. “I found out right away that I was a better singer than a rapper. People were coming up saying you’ve got to do something with that voice. Getting so much respect from old dudes who’ve been playing for 40 years gave me confidence.” His is some voice, a real gutsy blues roar tinged with soulful tenderness. Tellingly, Graham says: “I’m probably my truest self when I am singing.”
Growing up, he was defined by his size. “That was my angle in school, the big lad who sticks up for his mates. As a boy, you are expected to be a certain way: be tough, don’t cry. You’re not expected to be emotional. So I wrote about those things instead.” Over a decade of performing, he shifted from pure blues to hip hop (as part of the Brighton-based crew, Rum Committee), then on to focus on songcraft. “I had to learn to write from the ground up, so you can take away all the bells and whistles and play it on a piano, and it still works.”
His debut album, Human, will be released in March, and every song lands like a punch to the heart. It is a big, emotional record, rooted in musical styles that transcend fashion. Even his stage name reflects a bygone era, inspired by the sitcom Steptoe & Son. He is the latest exponent of an eccentric, almost Luddite strain of British pop that has proved surprisingly robust. In common with many of the UK’s biggest musical exports of the past decade (including Adele, Mumford and Sons and Sam Smith), Rag’n’Bone Man exudes a kind of anti-glamour, the heartfelt antithesis of the fizzy, super-slick Americanised digital pop in the singles charts.
The depth of emotion in his songs reflects the substance of a life lived away from the spotlight. For years, he was a care worker, helping people with disabilities. His older sister has Down’s syndrome “so it was a natural thing for me to be around people with special needs. It’s a pretty good job. If music goes up the spout, I’ll do it again.”
For now, the care industry’s loss is pop music’s gain. “Playing to people has been my driving force since I was 19,” he says. “I loved it even when there were 20 people in a dingy blues bar. Seeing people’s faces, hearing my songs being sung back to me, it’s been the best feeling in my life. The bigger it gets, the better.”
Rag’n’Bone Man’s debut album, Human will be released on 10 February
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