Tinie Tempah Interview

There’s something quite remarkable about speaking with an artist who’s managed to hold space in culture for over 15 years without ever losing sight of who they are. Patrick Chukwuemeka Okogwu, better known as Tinie Tempah – once the teenage prodigy from South East London who soundtracked an entire era with “Pass Out”, “Frisky” and “Written in the Stars” – is a prime example. He’s topped charts for longer than most of his fans have been alive, yet his momentum outpaces most new artists. His global success since his Disc-Overy days undoubtedly gave him the confidence—but success isn’t his MO. His drive is fuelled by faith: in himself, in his art, in the industry and in community. Because for Tinie, it was never just about making hits—it was about making history, and he’s still not done writing it.

We first met at his cover shoot in the heart of Hackney. A team buzzed around him, fixing lighting and setting up styling rails as he sat in the courtyard quietly, calmly. I introduced myself and he instantly recognised my accent—correctly identifying that we grew up in the same area. He smiled and welcomed me into his world without a second thought, answering each and every one of my questions with a thoughtful, measured and genuine answer—no rehearsed soundbites, no premeditated angle, no self-boasting bullshit. Today, he joins me again for a follow-up – this time via Zoom – after a festival run in Australia, where he travelled across Melbourne, Brisbane and Sydney with the likes of Mariah Carey, Wiz Khalifa, Lil Jon and Pitbull. He performed sets comprised of old classics and new anthems to the 180,000 attendees before returning to London to prepare for his new single (“Energy”) release and his UK tour. Despite it all, he once again gave me his undivided attention. It’s a breath of fresh air in a world polluted by fame, ego and politics. And Tinie knows it… After all, it’s the air he grew up in. 

“I think fame is a bit of an interesting thing,” he elaborates. “When I first started out, fame was something that felt quite ‘gate-kept’. It almost felt like you had to prove yourself – which I’m not saying is the case now – but in my reality, it felt like you almost had to prove yourself, then you were on the outskirts, then once you’d been accepted by one of these industries, you kind of had your ‘shot’.” Back in 2005, Tinie started the journey by joining Aftershock Hooligans, releasing countless free mixtapes that began gaining traction. He then left his label, signed to Parlophone in October 2009 and just five months later released his debut single, “Pass Out”. From there, he proved himself as a UK Singles Chart mainstay, holding the number one spot hostage with following singles “Frisky”, “Written in the Stars” and “Miami 2 Ibiza”. He toured with Chipmunk, Tinchy Stryder, Usher and Pixie Lott, supported Rihanna, collaborated with Labrinth, Swedish House Mafia, Kelly Rowland and Ellie Goulding and was nominated for a staggering four BRIT Awards—earning his first for Best British Breakthrough Act and another for Best British Single by February 2011. To the rest of the world, you'd never think Tinie was ever on the outskirts. But fame has a funny way of painting a picture, and Tinie learned quickly to look beyond the brushstrokes. 

“I remember at that time, it gave me this feeling – especially as someone who came from immigrant parents who had migrated over from Nigeria and we grew up in a low economical situation – of accomplishment. It felt like I’d got almost the hardest thing to achieve. When I’d got to that point where people recognised me or when fame sort of became a reality, I felt really accomplished,” he says, taking a long pause. “I think fame has this weird power of bringing out different sides of people. Because I’ve been doing this for 15 years now, and I’ve kind of matured in this environment, I think it’s allowed me to see those sides of people that you wouldn’t necessarily see if you weren’t in this situation. I guess what that’s helped me understand about myself is that I really wasn’t doing this to be famous. I was doing this because I had a mission. I feel like I have a God-given talent which I refine and develop every day that goes by. I have a gift of being able to make music that clearly resonates with people.” 

And that, in a nutshell, is Tinie’s true purpose. “Fame has made me appreciate the fact that I have a talent a lot more. And I guess it’s made me want to utilise those talents to bring those people together, bring communities together and to bring joy to people’s lives. Fame is this unquantifiable thing that most people are attracted to in some shape or form. But to all those emerging artists out there who are about to come into their own success, I would just say, ‘Be wary of that, because when you’re winning or doing well and everyone wants to be around you, it’s a nice feeling. It gets your endorphins going, gets your serotonin levels high, but remember it’s important to focus on what your overall objective and mission is and to not get too drunk on it, because fame is kind of fickle.’” It goes to show: fame opens doors, but only intention gives you a reason to walk through them. Tinie’s not wearing his success like a crown—he carries it as the compass to guide those who come after him. 

“Especially when it comes to rap,” he interjects. “Obviously there’s loads of different types of rappers, from loads of different backgrounds and narratives, but you all are essentially reflecting on the times and environments in your lyricism. You are, effectively, creating social commentary. For this project in particular that I’ve worked on, I’ve decided to reflect on a time where we’re sort of post-pandemic and analysing how the culture and behavioural patterns have changed—what we knew before, we’re evolving from it. As a result, industries are changing—especially the one I’m in. I’ve grown up in it, I’m such an advocate for it, especially for talent like me who pretty much started off with nothing, no support, and had to go though every motion to get to where I am. So I would say the most important thing for an artist is to reflect on the times that they’re in and ultimately create a soundtrack for people’s lives—because that’s what music is. Whether it’s sad or happy, that’s the purpose: bringing some sort of feeling into the world and helping people feel and understand their emotions through your words and lyrics.”

It’s a fitting observation from an artist whose music has quietly soundtracked an entire generation’s coming of age. For most of Gen Z (myself included, I confess to him), Tinie’s sound hums in the background of memories—from club nights and freshers’ weeks to bus rides to school with nothing but a Blackberry and some wired headphones. His voice isn’t just familiar, it’s formative—and that’s what makes him put pen to paper. “I was writing for my generation. Even when I think of lyrics, like ‘semester to semester…raving with the freshers’. Like, I didn’t go to university, but I was happy to be right there with the listeners in my own capacity. All the rest of my siblings went to uni and I always remember even now feeling like I missed out on something—but the fact that I’ve pretty much done and played at every single university in the country makes me feel like I did it in my own way. Maybe one day, there’ll be an honorary degree waiting for me. I’m still waiting…” He says, laughing. 

“So I feel like I’ve always been writing for my generation,” he continues. “And beyond that, for the people who had a start like me. And I never try to say that in a negative way because in my experience, it wasn’t negative. But the further I got down the road the more I realised that the odds really were stacked against me. I’m someone who is insanely ambitious, optimistic and somewhat unreasonable with my dreams, ambitions and goals. I was willing and determined to do whatever it took. So for those who have grown up in a low socioeconomic background, who have big dreams but not necessarily the resources, I can tell you through my journey how to continue to dream big and how to carry on even when everyone’s saying no. I have to continually knock on doors that have been closed. I think that’s another reason I write: to uplift people from whatever struggle they’re going through, whatever age, generation, religion or class they’re in.” 

Humility, evidently, comes naturally to him. It’s partly due to the people he decides to surround himself with, and part seeing the costs of overindulging in the spotlight in realtime, “You have to learn not to chase it too much, because that’s when I’ve seen my counterparts fall into a bad place—whether it’s alcohol, drugs or other vices,” he reflects. Instead, Tinie has leaned into the practise of meditation and jujitsu to align himself with reality. “I’m not saying it’s always been easy, fun and plain sailing, but I’ve always been quite a grounded person, raised with good values, good morals. My parents were always in my ear as a kid, I listened to them, I still go to them for advice,” he clarifies. 

So, I wonder, where DOES Tinie get his kicks? “Even what you said earlier on, that I was the soundtrack to your childhood,” he answers instantly. “That’s definitely up there because it really means something. And I believe you, because it’s a fact. Those songs came out as you were growing up—and some of those are still relevant and impactful today. So hearing something like that makes me feel so fulfilled and grateful as an artist and motivates me to continue to do more. I mean, if I could be the soundtrack to your youth, I could maybe be the soundtrack for future people’s youth. That, to me, is everything.” It’s a hefty task, to inspire whole generations, and it’s one Tinie doesn’t take lightly. He feels the weight that comes tagged to his talent, and the pressure that comes with his platform. 

“More than ever before,” he adds. “And that’s why we built the studio that we built.” Imhotep was founded by Tinie in 2015 as a creative agency bridging the gap between young, new British ideas and figures with established brands—spanning industries from music to fashion to art. “It doesn’t just facilitate me, it’s got four other rooms. We’re facilitating artists that you will know every single day. Sometimes we’re doing it for free if they haven’t got a budget. We’re facilitating podcasts and people who want to shoot a music video as well.” He says, noting the studio’s latest visitor was Jim Legxacy who used the space for two of his visuals. “I’m also on the board of Ivor Novello,” he digresses. The academy, which celebrates and empowers music creators through awards and campaigning for a fairer industry, is something which Tinie has dedicated a lot of his personal time to—and not just because he was the recipient of one of the awards himself. “When I got my Ivan Novello for ‘Pass Out’, it felt different to any other award because it focuses primarily on the actual writing of the song. With lots of songwriters, they go from studio to studio uncertain whether they’re going to land the cut—they’re always the last person to get credited. And more often than not, they’re the last person to get remunerated in the whole process. I think that was one of my motivations for joining that board. That’s a little way I can try to change things.” 

But little, Tinie’s workload is not. Atop running his studio, advising on the board and touring the world, he’s also working with third party corporations, alongside tech individuals who are innovating new ways to help artists with their royalties. “They basically help artists with collecting their royalties because a load are paid out, but eight times out of 10, they’re not accurate. When I did a little bit of digging, I found out that I was only getting remunerated like 7% of my total incoming that I could be receiving,” he explains—and I gasp, spilling a profanity or two. “It’s crazy, right? And I’m sure I’m not the only artist. In fact, I know I’m not the only artist. But that’s why I’m kind of trailblazing and putting myself forward to work with these businesses and try things out. Personally speaking, I feel so fortunate and blessed out of millions of people to be one that has said they’ve technically ‘made it’ as an artist. So hell yes, 15 years in, you wanna be able to make some irreversible change.” 

And that starts with reviving nightlife. “I got involved with Michael Kill and The Night Times Industry Association kind of serendipitously in the sense that I was already creating a project that focused on nightlife and the fact that we’re losing it in the UK,” he states. “It already birthed so many exciting genres and helped grow so many artists—what a shame it would be to lose it entirely.” It wasn’t until I researched the Last Night Out campaign myself that I realised just how likely that was. Since 2020, the UK has lost an average of 3 clubs per week. If the pattern persists, New Year’s Eve in 2029 could well be London’s last night out, forever. For Tinie, it’s particularly alarming—he knows better than anyone the importance of London’s party hotspots. Before the world of social media, the sticky-floored, strobe light-filled rooms across the globe were where he met his fanbase. Music, to him, is to be performed. To be enjoyed while downing a foamy beverage, to blast over conversations with your friends in the smoking area. But with the nightlife withering, the world stands to lose a lot more than that. 

“Firstly, it’s important to revive nightlife because it helps so many members of our society—people you wouldn’t even think of primarily. The owner of the club, the staff, the people at the bar, the bouncers… What about the man or woman that takes your jacket in the cloakroom? These are all jobs that will be lost forever if we lose our nightlife. And then, what about all of the up and coming artists primarily making a living off of gigging around the country or playing at smaller venues? And for me personally, what about getting in front of the whites of people’s eyes? Just coming back from Australia now, I played at this festival and was able to gain so many new fans off the back of that… These were people who already knew my music but got to see me in the flesh and feel the energy and the aura and could interact with me—you just can’t beat that.” 

Joining the Night Times Industry Association was certainly a no-brainer for Tinie. It aligned perfectly with his beliefs—and he didn’t blink when Michael offered him the chance to be the face of their Last Night Out campaign. “It’s a non-profit organisation, they’re out there doing great work and lobbying government. They didn’t have anyone of significant profile – like an actual artist in real time – advocating for them. So I was like, ‘Let’s do it!’ In the background, we were at South by Southwest and I did a showcase, but before that we did a panel discussion with some other artists on the board like Majestic to talk about their experience in the nighttime industries and how important that’s been for their journey as artists. Before performing ‘Pass Out’ or ‘Energy’, it was more about highlighting the fact that this is a real issue in the UK and globally and we can actually do something about it.” As for his plan of action, Tinie pauses for a moment and chuckles: “I guess you just have to watch this space. Wait and see.” 

But philanthropy isn’t the only space Tinie is taking over. Despite everything he’s been doing in the background, including entering fatherhood himself, Tinie was still cooking his sound—and he invited us all to “Eat It Up” in July of this year; marking his first single release in eight years featuring the bass powerhouse, Skepsis. His return to the forefront of the industry – for most of us – was long anticipated, but as always, Tinie wouldn’t have done it without clear intention. “I had a few,” he explains. “My initial intention was to feed my fan base, because I’ve been trying to communicate with them and feed them with different things. I went into TV, I started supporting other artists via business and signings – like signing Notes at the time – which in my opinion was almost like me passing over a baton to a certain degree. But then, taking time out for a couple of years made me realise, ‘Wow, you have all these millions of monthly listeners and they’re all just listening to your previous stuff and you’re still of age to be releasing music. Why aren’t you doing it?’ And secondly, I guess through my experience, knowledge and talent, I felt good enough to continue to compete. I felt like I had gems, enlightenment and wisdom via sonic, via lyrics, via mood and themes that I could convey to people.” 

And that, he does. The release of “Eat It Up” proved that true talent ages like fine wine. The track, featuring Carla Monroe and Skepsis on decks, is a chaotic, energy-charged track emblematic of Tinie’s inherent ability to move people; physically and mentally. Its chaser, “Closer” follows suit, adding a dream-like texture to Tinie’s soundscape, with heavy drum and bass tempered by Abi Flynn’s angelic vocals. His sound is inherently his own, yet is bolstered by a new energy; one that doesn’t just feel nostalgic, but glaringly current—something which he captures to a T in his latest release, aptly titled “Energy”. 

“What brings me the most joy is finishing a song that I love and I think other people will love,” he reflects—something which has remained a constant over Tinie’s tenure. “I’ve got to a place in my mind where I’m essentially an artist and it’s the fans and the people out there that decide what they like. I don’t expect them to like everything, I think I’ve gone past that tender age and stage of being super sensitive. There’s a million products and songs that are released every day and no one needs to like any or all of them—it’s fine. For me, it’s mainly about creating great music, music that stands the test of time. I want someone to say this song came out two decades ago, three decades, even five decades ago and it’s stuck with them—like how I perceive Michael Jackson, Diana Ross, Stevie Wonder, Elvis Presley, The Beatles or The Rolling Stones. I want to make music that lasts a lifetime. I’ll keep going and putting out stuff that I believe is a good reflection of myself and my art and what I’m trying to do. And I’m very comfortable and at peace with that.” 

As our conversation comes to an end, it’s clear Tinie’s story is nothing to do with reclaiming fame—it’s reaffirming his legacy. 15 years on, his hunger feels less about chart positions, and more about connection: artists and artists, music and people, art and culture. “There’s so many things I have left to do,” he begins his conclusion. “I am definitely trying to make a lasting impact in the music industry. Again, for someone like me to break through – and obviously now there’s so many instances of it – but 20 years ago there was very few and far between situations like that. It was very rare. And that makes me think about this ever-changing industry. I wanna be around for as long as possible and be the best version of myself I can be: a great dad, a great partner, a great brother, son AND artist… I do believe that we’ve all been put on this planet to contribute in some way. I personally think that way of contributing is via creativity.” 

If the last 15 years are anything to go by, Tinie isn’t just writing history—he’s making sure there’ll be a soundtrack for it.