6 days Ago By Riann Phillip
It’s a windy Wednesday afternoon when I head out west to meet Pa Salieu. After a few hot minutes on the Central line, I end up in a suave music management office in Notting Hill, where the rapper is on a lunch break. “Sorry if it smells like Nando’s in there,” quips Salieu’s manager, leaving the dedicated listening room.
It’s from here that the Coventrian phenomenon emerges. Some six feet tall, clad in a tangerine crushed velvet Martine Rose tracksuit and Louis Vuitton trainers, Salieu’s colourful exterior belies the gentle reality of this unpretentious man. The past few years for Salieu have been nothing short of a rollercoaster.
In 2020, the British-Gambian rapper was the hotly tipped one to watch, garnering fans far and wide (from the late Virgil Abloh to FKA Twigs ) and having the most played song – “Frontline” – on BBC Radio 1Xtra that year. He graced the pages of prestigious magazines – i-D , Dazed , The Face – and was a front-row regular at London Fashion Week’s favourite shows. Send Them to Coventry , Salieu’s debut (and self-released) mixtape, earned him an Ivor Novello nomination for Best Album in 2021, as well as being crowned the BBC’s Sound of 2021 winner and nominated for the Brit Rising Star Award.
So, when, at the end of 2022, Salieu was sentenced to 33 months’ imprisonment for charges of violent conduct and possessing a bottle as a weapon – in an incident that happened in 2018 – things took a turn. “I done shit I don’t even forgive myself for,” Salieu says, maintaining eye contact. “But it’s the lessons you learn.
Everyone has a right to learn.” The lessons learnt can all be found in Afrikan Alien . He came out of prison in April 2024 with two years’ worth of songs and eight books full of lyrics.
“Every tune on that tape means something to me. In jail it’s different. The words, the thoughts, they mean 10 times more,” Salieu reflects.
The finished release consists of 11 tracks of Salieu spitting his best, no-holds-barred, over his signature genreless style. (On genre, Salieu states, “No sound is consistent. I believe my genre is called Freedom of Speech.
”) The tape is an affectionate blend of Afrobeats, dancehall, R’n’B and amapiano, memorialising his time inside and the path to freedom. On tracks like “YGF” (Young, Great and Free) – one of his favourites on the tape – it’s clear that Salieu has undertaken somewhat of a self-audit. The lyrics are the proof: “Dealing with death had me moving brazy / Dealing with the trial really had me faded / Sipping lean every day I wonder why they push me / Wonder to myself will death give me more peace.
” Finding inspiration isn’t hard for Salieu. “There is a simple fact,” he leans in. “If I wake up in the morning? ‘Ah, I’m alive today! Not tomorrow is promised!’ I’m inspired by that, by times of loss,” he says, his innate rhythmic flow permeating his speech.
“You learn the most at your lowest times. It takes hardship to find ease. You’ll be too comfortable.
So when hardship comes, you’ll be caught with surprise...
I don’t know, man. I’m inspired by everything, bro.” Born in Slough to parents from The Gambia, the rapper moved to West Africa aged two and spent much of his childhood there living with his grandparents.
“[My mum] nearly went crazy when she had to send me home. She sent me at the age of two years old, not because she wanted to, but because my grandma’s house burnt up and she had to work,” says Salieu. He would later move back to the UK, specifically Coventry, where his parents had since settled.
“I’m lucky I can go back home if I want to,” he says, tentatively. “I get homesick.” As a fellow Coventrian, I’m curious to know his favourite place in Coventry.
“My mum’s house!” he jumps up in his seat. I can tell that family is everything to Salieu, in name and in practice – just listen to his most popular song “My Family” for the evidence. In a musical landscape where many rappers go by monikers, Salieu’s choice to use his full government name was a no-brainer.
“My name is Pa Salieu. Why should I hide? I don’t hide my voice. I don’t think I need an alias.
..” We move on to fashion, noting his vibrant ensemble today.
“You see me and clothes? I can go to a charity shop and see a mazza [madness]. It will speak to me. So I wear it, and I become the vibe,” Salieu says.
It’s not what you wear, it’s how you wear it, I suggest. “I like brands that have a meaning,” he says, reeling off Corteiz, Daily Paper, and the aforementioned Martine Rose. In fact, it was London supremo Labrum that scouted Salieu before he even started music.
“Someone was like, ‘Ah, you look like model, you look beautiful!’ and gave me a train ticket. And I walked for his show,” he laughs, before getting serious again. “But there’s one thing I don’t really fuck with – and if I’m not aware, God will forgive me – but I don’t wear things that are made through slavery and all that shit.
Or fur from animals. I don’t like how that shit’s extracted.” It’s clear that everything Salieu does – his artistry, his philanthropy (he wants to create PE kits for kids back home, and start youth clubs in the UK and The Gambia, for example) – is rooted in his unique worldview.
“I believe humans are very gifted creatures,” he states. “Imagine a being that can look at something, go draw it and actually bring it to life. What kind of a creature is this? A fucking dangerously gifted one.
” He veers into a monologue: “The world is funny, bro. Things are happening in so many aspects. Look at Sudan , the forgotten war.
Or Congo. People are moving like it ain’t happening. This is very, very scary.
I’m not with it. We might die tomorrow anyways..
. There’s youths being born every day. What are they going to take into the world? Yeah, we get more money, more power.
And with more power, you can destroy the world easier. Right now is a crucial point, I believe it. I can feel it.
.. I was in the cell thinking, reading, believing, trying to master my craft.
.. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I know the distinction between good and evil.
” So this is where I leave Pa Salieu, ruminating on past, present and future, clear that his purpose in this world is something bigger than him. The rest of his week is a blend of preparing for the release of the tape and his normal day-to-day. There’s his cover art photoshoot with Salomé Gomis-Trezise, a photographer he found and commissioned himself, filming a Colors show, rehearsals for his sold-out show at The Garage in Islington, and a meeting with his parole officer.
How does this renegade unwind? “Catching up on EastEnders .” Afrikan Alien is out on all streaming platforms now.
