Blac Narc

Blac Narc returns with Simon What, a fierce critique of industry control and social inequality. In this interview, he discusses independence, AI, creativity, and the rebellious spirit behind System Failure.

1. “Simon What” is described as a direct critique of music industry exploitation. What specific experiences or observations inspired the message behind the track, and why did you feel now was the right time to release it?

The track ‘Simon What’ comes from years of watching artists pour their souls into their craft, only to be exploited by gatekeepers who have never written a song or held a mic. The name ‘Simon’ represents that ultimate middleman the suit who controls the playlists, sanitizes the culture, and decides what the world gets to hear. It’s a literal form of mind control, which is the exact subject of my next release. But the industry equation is changing. For independent creators historically locked out by their postcodes or lack of budgets, AI now provides the tools to bypass the old guard and build a new infrastructure without asking for permission.

Releasing this now is driven by both personal tragedy and systemic reality. I’ve lost my dad, my mum, two brothers, and recently my sister. That kind of profound loss strips away the illusions. You realize that struggles like poverty and homelessness are policy driven. People fight so hard to escape the system that by the time they get out, their health is ruined they glitch, collapse and die.

At the same time, we are in the middle of a cultural shift. Post pandemic, independent artists have realized this game isn’t based on merit. ‘Simon What’ is for anyone who ever got played and stayed quiet. I’m not staying quiet any more.

This is the second release from the System Failure EP, because the system has entirely failed us. I have a BA in Media Arts with Sound and Music Recording, and a MSc in Organizational and Community Development. If highly qualified people with degrees and Masters are struggling to find work and stability, what hope does the youth have? It’s time to build something new.

2. Your music combines vintage production tools, analogue textures, modern AI technology, and handwritten lyrics. How do you balance these different elements while maintaining the raw, authentic energy that defines Blac Narc?

You can make music with any equipment. People obsess over the gear, but history from Springsteen’s Nebraska to the early Beatles’ four track recordings proves that limitation is what forces honesty and experimentation. The gear doesn’t make the record; the human does. My setup is a deliberate collision of hardware like my Behringer BCF2000 and Akai keyboard, software, and AI driven stems. People often ask how I balance vintage textures with modern AI, and the honest answer is: I don’t try to make them sit perfectly together. I want them to clash. That friction is exactly where the energy lives.

The Analogue Grit: Vintage hardware provides an unpredictable, organic warmth. It’s the dirt under the fingernails that grounds the sound in something physical and real.

The AI Glitch: AI is the cold, calculated, futuristic element—it represents the ‘System Failure’ itself. It stretches sonic boundaries, but it needs that analogue grit to fight against; without it, the music becomes sterile. You can actually experience this friction at brighthalogen.com, where I’ve built a live Simon What synthesizer and soundscape. It turns the production process into a game, go and play with it.

The Human Glue: My lyrics capture real time frustration. I write on the move using Rhymer’s Block, turning life’s front-line struggles into raw vocals before they have a chance to cool down and become ‘safe.’ No matter how advanced the production gets, the soul of the track must come from a visceral place. It has to be flawed, aggressive, and deeply human.

An algorithm can’t rhyme ‘bunions and onions,’ and it certainly can’t shout out my three daughters, or Vince, or Becky an incredible, supportive woman who changed my life. These are the things that ground the work. Vintage synths and modern algorithms are just different generations of machines meant to amplify the human experience, not replace it. The authenticity of Blac Narc is simply the sound of a human heartbeat trying to survive inside a failing digital system. I am the human in the loop.

3. You have called yourself the “MC Champion” and positioned “Simon What” as part of a rebellion against industry gatekeepers. What does that title mean to you, and what kind of change would you like to see in today’s music landscape?

Calling myself the ‘MC Champion’ isn’t about ego or a trophy it’s about calling out reality. An MC is supposed to be the direct line between the beat and the streets: the mouthpiece for unfiltered truth. It’s about addressing the reality of hidden poverty and challenging the way wealth is distributed. Society focuses too much on divisive labels, ignoring the only question that matters: Are you a good person? You can meet a thousand good people who have no impact, but it only takes one bad actor to ruin a life.

I walked away from the mic years ago because I refused to play the industry’s toxic games, but I never lost the craft; I survived the gauntlet. Stepping back into the ring on my own terms means I’m championing the art of the MC against a corporate machine designed to mass produce obedience. ‘MC Terminator’ was the declaration. ‘Simon What’ is the evidence. ‘Mind Control’ is the act of breaking out of the matrix. The System Failure EP is the verdict. As for the change I want to see? A complete system failure of the old models.

Dismantle the Parasitic Architecture: There are talented people in this industry, but they are often controlled like drones while executives live in luxury off the scraps left for the artists. The middlemen need to be stripped of their power.

Zero Distance to Fans: I want an ecosystem where there is no barrier between the creator and the listener. No more A&R’s dictating what is ‘marketable,’ and no more algorithms burying genuine talent simply because they didn’t pay the toll.

Total Independence: We have the infrastructure now AI, independent distribution, and decentralised media. My brand, Bright Halogen, manages the artist, the socials, and the production, allowing us to retain 100% creative control. I want artists to realise they don’t need gatekeepers. The artists and the fans build the culture; the executives just put a barcode on it. It’s time we take the power back and let the music speak for itself.

4. The sound of “Simon What” has been described as a dark, dystopian industrial environment. How does the production help amplify the song’s message, and what emotions were you hoping listeners would experience while hearing it?

The production on ‘Simon What’ isn’t just a backdrop; it is the physical environment the lyrics live inside, drawn directly from lived experience. When you spend your days navigating the reality of London’s housing crisis, watching people fall through the cracks, and then compare that to the sanitized, manufactured output of the corporate music industry, it’s clear: we are already living in a dystopia. The sound had to reflect that.

The Crushing Weight: The heavy, distorted basslines act like the weight of the system—the gatekeeping, the corruption, and the grinding daily struggle.

The Corporate Machine: Cutting through that weight are cold, synthetic glitches. These represent the algorithms and the executives trying to keep culture contained in a neat, profitable box. These two forces are in constant tension. It never fully resolves, because the system itself is fundamentally broken. I didn’t want this to be a comfortable listen.

This journey is personal. I left school with no qualifications the system failed me then. But I kept my cool, kept my focus, and returned to earn two degrees. When I shout out Vince an expert DJ, producer, and songwriter on my tracks, it’s a protest. Check out his channel, DJ Invincible. Why is a talent like that not being snapped up? It’s because the system isn’t designed for talent; it’s designed for control.

My music is an archive of the streets. You’ll hear social commentary on London, warnings about the upcoming UK social media bans, and tributes to the architects who built my lane Skepta, Kendrick Lamar, and Kool Keith. I’ve built a puzzle into the EP; every song references another, either past or future. You just have to listen for the connecting words.

I want the listener to feel claustrophobic, like they are trapped inside the belly of a failing machine. But this isn’t about despair; it’s about defiance. It’s that surge of adrenaline, that controlled rage you feel the moment you realize the game has been rigged. The track follows a specific trajectory: it starts with claustrophobia and mental distortion, then it speeds up, shifting into raw anger. Finally, it reaches clarity. The words are bullets; no guns are needed. That is the sound of looking at the walls holding you in and deciding, once and for all, that you are going to tear them down.”

5. Your influences range from Madness and Skepta to Kool Keith and Kendrick Lamar. In what ways have these artists shaped your creative identity, and where do you feel Blac Narc stands within the current UK rap scene?

On paper, the mix of my influences might sound chaotic and honestly, that chaos is the entire point. That is the DNA of Blac Narc. Each of these artists built their world outside the expected parameters, and none of them ever asked for permission:

• Madness: They provided the blueprint for capturing the gritty, working-class texture of London streets. They taught me how to find the humor inside the hardship and the community buried within the struggle.
• Kool Keith: He taught me to ignore industry rules entirely and construct my own dystopian universes where the logic is internal, and the imagery is completely unhinged.
• Skepta: He proved you can kick the door off its hinges with uncompromised, independent UK energy and command global respect without selling your soul. We also share a deep personal connection. I lived in Tottenham for many years, and like him, my father is Nigerian.
• Kendrick Lamar: He is the anchor. He is proof that elite lyricism and a lethal pen game still matter, and that you can be technically precise and emotionally devastating in the same breath.

That refusal to ask for permission is the thread that runs through everything I do. So, where do I stand in the current UK rap scene? Outside of it. Entirely by design. I’m stepping back into this arena with the battle scars of the golden era and the technological weapons of Bright Halogen and our mascot, Signal.

Blac Narc isn’t here to fit into a sterile environment; I’m the virus introduced to force a system failure. Today’s generation is angry, but the state has mastered the art of division. keeping the youth distracted while they pick their back pockets.

By the time they’re older, they risk being left with nothing. No housing, no security, no wealth to pass on to the next generation. We are living in a moment of unprecedented passivity. If one person plays this track and chooses to disconnect from the machine even for a moment then it’s done its job. That’s enough. That’s everything.”

6. With “Simon What” serving as the second release from the upcoming System Failure EP, what can listeners expect from the full project, and how does it expand on the themes of corruption, transparency, and artistic independence?

System Failure is a sonic eviction notice to the old guard. If ‘Simon What’ was the opening warning shot holding up a mirror to the machine the rest of the EP goes into the belly of the beast to dismantle the architecture of this corrupt system, piece by piece.

Most people don’t know that I came second in a Capital Radio rap competition years ago. The talent was always there, but survival came first. That’s the story of my life. You don’t get to be creative when you’re fighting to escape the poverty trap; the music had to wait, but it never left me. ‘Mind Control’ is the next track, and it’s a full-on assault on everyone who tried to diminish, manipulate, or erase me. It addresses the ‘so called’ friends who suddenly now want to Facebook me. They ran when things got real, and those who left me for dead. I carry the proof of that on my body; the scar on my ear from the stitches tells you everything you need to know about what I survived on the streets of London. I’m lucky to be here many others ended up disabled or dead, like Stephen Lawrence, from similar nights. When the time is right, that full account will surface.

The rest of the project including tracks like ‘Shake It,’ ‘Ninja Checkmate,’ and ‘Damage Control’ dismantles the illusion layer by layer. The title, ‘Simon,’ is a reference to Simon Says. For decades, gatekeepers have played Simon Says with artists, demanding they stay in their lanes, sign their contracts, and remain compliant. Most people didn’t even realise they were in the game.

The gatekeepers are crying that AI is ‘destroying’ music because they’re terrified of losing their control. They spent decades using budgets and contracts as weapons, forcing artists to choose between compliance and starvation. That era is over. AI has democratized the craft, putting the power of a million-pound studio into the hands of a kid in a bedsit.

But understand this: I’m not just a prompter. I’m a musician. I bridge the gap between human experience and digital efficiency. I use the skills earned in the LCM classroom in Sound and Music Recording to direct the AI, not be directed by it. AI is the machine, but I am the architect of the sound. System Failure is my manifesto for total independence. We aren’t waiting for permission anymore; we’re taking the power back. If you’ve been sidelined or silenced, the tools are here. It’s time to stop asking if we can and start taking what’s ours.

Bright Halogen | Sonic Architecture