Introspective - Franklyn (2014)

Literary lyricism laid at pace by a youth worker-author, with moody, delicate jazz-grime production from king keyboardist Alfa Mist

Grime music might be an extrovert MC’s game. It first thrived through the Caribbean sound system clashing culture of East London’s youth clubs and pirate radio stations in the early-2000s. The best MCs would need the skill and confidence to write and spit their bars but also grab the mic off competitors to stand a chance of being heard over darkening, quickening garage beats.

Franklyn Addo grew up in Homerton, Hackney, in the slipstream of this local tradition, too young to participate in its earliest wave but perceptive enough to absorb its linguistic and performative flair. Raised in a West African, Christian home, whilst he excelled at school, spending his spare time at the library lost in books as an escape from the rugged outside world, many of his contemporaries went the other way. After witnessing a murder outside his block he doubled down on pursuing academic study, creative expression and social justice.

On the cusp of adulthood, he started making waves in London’s underground music scene by penning jazz-inspired hip-hop and grime. At the same time, he secured and declined an offer to study at Cambridge University, sparking attention from the right-wing press which, still only 18, he then duly rebutted in his first of many op-eds for the Guardian.

We met a few years later, in 2016, as postgraduates working at The Access Project, a charity which places academic mentors in inner-city schools, where we bonded over music and literature. Within weeks, he’d showed me his own creations, including Who Franklyn Is, a punchy, no hook introduction to his personality and vision produced by fellow east Londoner and now-celebrated keyboardist Alfa Mist.

Franklyn would go on to work in a range of frontline roles, often focusing on preventing violence, from case-working young people bearing wounds on A&E wards in hospitals, to delivering interventional outreach for those caught up in gangs, to joining forces with me to deliver Pattern, a critical thinking programme for young people at risk of permanent exclusion in secondary schools. He appears at the end of Cut Short for the launch of his 2019 EP Archives, inviting Jhemar Jonas aka Rippa, one of the book’s main characters, up on stage as a support act.

In 2021, Franklyn re-released what remains — and I think will always remain — my favourite song of his: Introspective. Again produced by Alfa Mist over a moody, jazz-inflected grime beat, he unleashes literary levels of lyricism about faith, purpose and moral complexity at relentless speed. He more than proves that grime music can be an introvert’s game. Instead of warring rivals on pirate radio, I imagine him recording these lyrics solo in the candle-lit cocoon of a bedroom studio.

It was originally released in 2014 — gaining respect from Tom Misch who discovered it on SoundCloud — making it over 10 years old and therefore even more impressive. I still regularly listen and every time I unlock a new pocket of appreciation. As Franklyn articulates among its many poignant lines, “the lyrics I spit are like tears from an innocent child, they make you feel something.”

A few weeks ago I joined a proud crowd at sunset on the rooftop of book publisher Hatchette’s headquarters in Blackfriars, central London. We were there to celebrate and listen to Franklyn talk about his new book, A Quick Ting On Grime (part of the wider ‘A Quick Ting On…’ series of nonfiction books about Black British culture).

It felt like a full circle moment, but also the start of an exciting new era.

Congrats Franko 🫡