19
Kromestar

RICKY Kalsi is a mysterious force. When dubstep and grime were at their creative peak, MCs loved his tunes, which consistently demolished raves. Of course others straddled both scenes – Plastician, for example – and many crossed the fence from time to time. And studio-heads are often allergic to the social and promotional side of things. Yet given the reverence his music was held in, Kalsi always seemed a distant presence, existing slightly away from both scenes. And for all its ability to deliver precisely what each scene wanted – grime's vainglorious, militant energy, dubstep's skull-crushing dread weight – his music always had something “other” about it too. As if he came to the sounds and rhythms by processes completely different from anyone else's. As if there was always something else going on in the track, which had nothing to do with its immediate function.

Turns out there was a lot more going on. Throughout the late 2000s he was extremely prolific, pouring out the beats, but his musical second act, starting around 2010, was at least as potent as his initial impact. Now he let go of the rhythmic constraints of scenes completely and started composing at whatever tempo took his fancy. With his Tears of Joy album (2012) themed around the death of his baby son, it became clear that he was significantly more engaged with his music than someone just banging tunes out for the sake of it. Every passing release saw new permutations of the themes running through his work: cosmic, Vangelis- style synth themes, superhuman overwhelming bass, militant rhythms. This was clearly the work of someone seeking something in their musical explorations.

In interview, Kalsi was enormously genial – he welcomed me into his local Italian restaurant in Croydon and introduced me to the boss with a classic “my mate'll take care of you”. And he was open too, but he's a complex character, sometimes moody, sometimes disappearing off-radar completely. As became clear, his connection to the music he makes and plays has always been a steadying, constant force, which perhaps explains the intensity running through it from his first tracks to his most recent. Just listen to Vision (2018) – made with German producer / instrumentalist Danny Scrilla aka Daniel Pirkl – and you know he doesn't mess about. Iron Soul, his grime alias – which is in fact older than Kromestar – is still very much in evidence too. Sometimes operating in the shadows can be a very healthy thing for a musician to do.

You've been called the most under-appreciated producer in the UK

OK yeah, I've heard that. I always have in my head that I have to build something of my own and the only person that can do it is me. So I don't give top radio DJs my music. That's probably where that “underrated” thing comes from. I just don't give out my music. I keep it to myself.

Was this an active choice to avoid hype?

Yes and no. In 2005-08 I was cool, man, but too laid back. I didn't know how many fans I had. I wasn't on social network sites, I was sitting in my house making tunes. Since 2012, I've got more involved. One time I put one message up on my Facebook to see what happens. [The reaction] was funny, I loved it, so that's when I went to start my own label [Nebula Music] and set up my own agency.

Have you always insisted on going your own way? Even as a kid?

Probably until my sister was born. Being an only child for a while, I had everything I wanted, I didn't want anything to change. Certain people like to do this and that with other people, and get their quarter million plays online, but that shit don't get to me. It's cool.

Have you always been musical?

I was around music. My dad used to play tablas and was always singing. Every Sunday we had to have this noise in the house. And in the morning my mum had had to play a prayer. So there was music every morning and when I went to school I'd be humming the prayer – the melody anyway, I didn't know how to speak the language. But I was into art and design, graphics, that was my first love. I meant to become an architect, but that went pear-shaped.

What got in the way?

Believe it or not I went through a psychotic episode at 16. It wasn't bad, but I wasn't… there. That lasted about a month, but I lost my talent of how to draw! I lost everything, I couldn't understand it. All I got out of it was anger, I started suffering from anger management problems. So I went into music, as a release. I started buying garage records, got some decks, and when I heard a So Solid record, I straight away went “I've got to make some beats!”

Were you out raving too?

Yeah, I used to go Exposure, all the garage nights. I never got into jungle. That was my uncle and them lot. It wasn't our scene, but that's an era I wish I'd got into. I don't know what I would've been like now.

What did you react to in garage tunes?

BASS. Bass. It was tunes like ‘Piano Loco’.²¹¹ It's the end. I heard that and it was a mad one, like “Why so much bass?” But then you see people moving to it, and alright, it's doing something. Then the [Ms.] Dynamite tune, ‘Booo!’ That was a different type of frequency. A mad frequency. Sticky's serious.