’s live shows are spectacles of sweat and skin. He strips to his boxers and tosses himself to the front rows of his audience.

His tattoos, close-cropped hair, and tangled mic cord conjure images of hardcore punk frontmen rather than hoods-up grime MCs, as he spits scowling lyrics over rough-edged beats that recall -era. But it’s hard to recognize that scowling performer in the quiet, even meek character perched on the edge of a sofa in his record label’s London office.

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His greeting on this Friday evening in May—a half-whispered “hello”—is barely audible over the noise spilling out of the bars down at street level. Born Tyron Frampton, his moniker comes from a childhood nickname—or taunt, depending on how you look at it. “I was in my own little world, always zoning out but also mad observant: I’d just sit back and watch,” he explains, thinking back. “And from then I was called ‘Slow Ty,’ because I slurred my words too.” The 23-year-old’s eyes flit around the room as he speaks, and you get the sense of that young kid drinking the world in. His hands stay stuffed in his hoodie pocket, fiddling absentmindedly with a gold coin ring. But after a bit of back-and-forth (and a couple of coffees), his demeanour shifts, and his responses start shooting back like a stream of consciousness, punctuated with wild, twitchy gesticulations.

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He talks about bouncing from place to place as a kid, his young mum doing everything she could to maintain some semblance of consistency for her two children as father figures passed in and out of their lives, and money proved scarce. He grew up on the outskirts of Northampton, a town around 60 miles north of London, in an area known colloquially as Bush due to the wash of greenery that surrounds its suburban maze of low-rise homes and housing projects.

While easy on the eyes, the greenery is said to serve an ulterior purpose for the local government: to cover up unsightly blocks and, by extension, says Slowthai, to keep the people who live there covered up too. For Slowthai, this meant growing up in what felt like a small town ensconced within another, slightly bigger one. It created an “us and them” situation, he says; folks from the central areas of town would rarely visit Bush, and kids from Bush stood out as different in the main streets of Northampton. But it also implanted in Slowthai an unshakeable territorial pride, and nurtured a small-town mentality that plays out in his music. The ad-libbed refrain of “double N, double N”—a reference to the Northampton zip code area—crops up throughout his discography, and it’s tattooed on his middle finger as well. Northampton is not known for its music, but its proximity to London has helped it develop something of an influential outlier status within the UK’s grime and garage scenes. The town is the birthplace of the that are closely associated with many of the defining moments in grime’s first golden era, and Slowthai says an aunt of his once dated a promoter involved with the events.

He recalls sneaking into shows through the fire escapes of local venues in his youth to catch touring acts from London doing their thing on stage—watching wide-eyed as grime royalty like, Devlin, and coaxed reload after reload from their DJs. Bush had its own flourishing musical ecosystem too, with grime, rap, and UK garage music dominating sound systems at local parties. And with every new instrumental that would do the rounds from mobile phone to mobile phone via spotty pre-Bluetooth technology, the local buzz for grime grew. In his early teens, Slowthai started out freestyling with the older kids from his estate. Soon enough, though, he began writing his lyrics down.