We meet the young Londoner whose music elicits healing tears of sadness and joy
Arlo Parks is a very young old soul. At 19, the artist makes tender songs that speak directly to her generation about lust and loss, self-care and depression, uppers and downers. But there’s also a timelessness about her soft sound that resonates with anyone who appreciates music aching with true emotion. It’s little wonder this talent’s music runs deep considering her voracious listening habits. She cites influences as far reaching as Otis Redding, Patti Smith, Prince and Miles Davis through to Earl Sweatshirt, Portishead, The Cure and MF Doom.
When I listen to her songs, they make me want to quietly weep, remember that one that got away, or call up a friend who needs my help. And to have a gentle hip sway, too. So what’s her secret? “I write instinctually - it just comes out,” she tells me over the phone. “It’s a stream of consciousness - I’m being completely honest with myself.”
This simple, non-formula has paid off. Parks’ first release was less than two years ago yet so far this year she has been shortlisted for the BBC Sound of 2020, made the Dazed 100, been on the cover of NME and performed in front of Glastonbury’s Pyramid Stage for primetime TV. Today, like most teenagers still living at home, she’s hanging out in her bedroom. Not like the most teenagers, her new single ‘Hurt’ was selected for Annie Mac’s Hottest Record in the World on Radio 1 the night before. “It’s quite surreal to hear my music on the radio – it’s still very unfamiliar to me, but I feel super happy when it happens,” she says politely.
‘Hurt’ reflects on the grieving process; that hazy, all pervasive, numbing sorrow that can feel utterly insurmountable. In the accompanying video, directed by Parks’ regular collaborator Molly Burdett, a young male dancer’s agoraphobic, insular movements emphasise the song’s lo-fi drum rhythms and Parks’ candid, healing vocals. “The track is based on the writings of Audre Lorde and talks about how those bitter sweet low moments won’t last forever because there is always the possibility of joy.”
The artist grew up in West London listening to her Nigerian father’s jazz records and her Chadian French mother’s pop classics. Encouraged to be creative, she began writing poetry and short stories aged 10 and picked up the guitar aged 14. Spoken word morphed into song writing and mastering GarageBand. “My first songs were quite angsty and dodgy – they’re on my computer somewhere,” she laughs.
Christened Anaïs Oluwatoyin Estelle Marinho, she chose her stage name while still at school (“I thought about the artists that I looked up to like Frank Ocean and King Krule and wanted a cool name too!”) and put out her first song ‘Cola’ on her manager’s Beatnik Records. She signed to Transgressive Records the day after she finished her last A-level exam and shelved plans to study English at UCL in favour of releasing the buzz-building EPs ‘Super Sad Generation’ and ‘Sophie’.
These were followed this year by the single ‘Eugene’, a confessional about falling for your best friend, and accompanying video directed by Loyle Carner and his brother Ryan. She met Carner last summer and went on to support the rapper on his US tour, their mutual appreciation for London realness easily apparent. “It’s big brother vibes,” she says. “I’m upcoming and he’s been in the game for a while, so he’s there for me if I never need advice.”
It was her subsequent release ‘Black Dog’ that has resonated most deeply to date. A reflection on trying to help someone who suffers from thoughts of suicide, the lyrics plead: ‘Just take your medicine and eat some food / I would do anything to get you out your room.’ An experience that sadly speaks to far too many, the song hit home even more due to the sense of isolation and fragility most people felt during lockdown when ‘Black Dog’ came out.
“It got a very specific reaction. Before I released it, I was worried it was too close to the bone but this was just me being open. People welcomed that vulnerability and thanked me for it. It was a powerful moment,” she recalls. Is it important for Parks to offer sonic comfort to her fans? And similarly act as a role model as a young black queer woman? “There’s an element of that. In the back of my mind I have a desire to help and be a figure to look up to. But when you start writing solely for your audience you lose your ingenuity. Making music is personally cathartic for me but it’s also a beautiful thing that I’m contacted a lot by people who want to tell me their stories. I’m grateful for that.”
Fittingly, Parks has recently become an ambassador for the mental health charity CALM. She’s also contributed a stripped back cover of Radiohead’s ‘Creep’ for Shy Radicals, a short film by Tom Dream based on Hamja Ahsan’s satirical book calling for militant introverts to overthrow the shouty mainstream.
“My generation is willing to enact change and stand up for what they believe in”
All this and she has barely left home these past few months. It must feel strange, I suggest, to be enjoying so many plaudits when the world has been battling a pandemic and reeling from the Black Lives Matter protests. “It’s been a year where I have become more self-aware and taken time to process positive and negative things in the work and in my personal life,” she reflects. “It’s been an exercise in resilience and I have learnt to set boundaries and keep myself grounded.”
Currently working on a debut album and a book of poetry (think Nayyirah Waheed meets Sylvia Plath), Parks’ well-deserved trajectory looks set continue apace. Whether willingly or not, she’s becoming a voice for Gen Z, the ones who will be left to clear up the mess the rest of us have left behind. Can she and her contemporaries save us all?
“My generation is willing to enact change and stand up for what they believe in. There is a lot to fix but I am an optimist and hopeful for the future. The people around me are proud of the steps that they are taking so I’m excited to see where things go.”
‘Hurt’ by Arlo Parks is out now on Transgressive Records