Ahead of the release of his second album, ‘Where’s Bliss?’, reflects on the experiences that shaped both the record and the artist he has become.

From a late ADHD diagnosis and his former career as a SENCo to a musical background spanning grime, hip-hop, jazz and spoken word, his journey has never followed a straightforward path. That range can be heard throughout the new album, which moves between vivid storytelling, personal vulnerability and tracks built purely to carry energy.

Now nominated for Best Newcomer at the 2026 MOBO Awards and preparing to embark on his third tour, namesbliss speaks about the pressure surrounding this release, the impact of writing so openly and why building a distinctive sound has always mattered to him.

How are you feeling with the album being out in the world?

There are a lot of emotions around it. I’m nervous, but I’m also excited that people can finally hear it and give their opinions en masse. I care what people think, particularly what my people think, and I’ve been working on this album for a long time.

This is probably the first album I’ve made where I’ve felt this much pressure. Releasing it around the same time as the MOBO nomination has brought a different level of attention. For someone making what I’d describe as underground, alternative music rather than pop, it feels like there are more people waiting to hear what I’ve done this time.

‘ADHD’ is a standout from the record. You’ve spoken about your own late diagnosis. Did that personal experience and your previous work both feed into writing a song like this?

My previous work helped me articulate the subject with more accuracy. I was surrounded by people who were neurodivergent and creative, so I had to properly understand ADHD, autism and neurodiversity.

At the same time, I knew that neurodivergence was part of my own story, and I was working through that personally. I wanted to describe what I had experienced as honestly and accurately as I could.

It was nerve-racking because I wasn’t trying to make something clinical. I was simply saying, “This is what I went through.” I hoped people would connect with it, and they did. The fact that the song was so specific to my experience actually made it relatable on a much wider level. The more niche the story was, the more people seemed to see themselves in it.

The response has clearly gone beyond just people rating the song. People connecting with it on a deeper level. What’s that felt like?

It feels good in a deeper way. I had fans crying when I performed it on the last tour, and people have brought me gifts and portraits inspired by the song.

Someone even made a varnished piece using the lyric, “cleaned up my mental space, upside down.” She sprayed the whole thing and gave it to me at a show.

Experiences like that are intense, but they are also incredibly rewarding and meaningful. They make me feel that writing this type of music is worthwhile because of the effect it can have on someone. In a way, it feels like I’m providing a service.

Your ability at storytelling is very vivid. Has this always been a strength of yours?

I’m a wordsmith at heart. I actually think I’m better at telling stories through songs than I am in real life. Music gives me the space to flesh everything out properly.I nerd out over the form of storytelling because there’s a science to telling a good story. When I’m writing, I’m thinking deliberately about whether the introduction is captivating, whether the characters develop, what the central problem is and how it might be resolved.

The attention to detail has to be high. If I want somebody to visualise what I’m describing, I need to articulate it in a way that allows them to see it. Everything is intentional. I can get a bit manic when I’m working on a song like that. At the same time, those stories have to come from lived experience, which is why I can’t just churn out ten of them every year.

The album also has more confident and energetic moments alongside those deeper stories. Do you normally know which direction a track will take before you start writing? 

It depends heavily on the beat and the conversation I’m having with the producer in the studio. When I was working with Scruz, for example, we spoke about wanting to tell deep stories, but we also talked about rapping about everyday life and making a banger. Both sides are important to me.

Where I am in my life at that moment also affects how a song comes out. I enjoy making proper bumpers, and I enjoy making the more reflective tracks. My biggest songs are probably the vibe-driven ones, but the stories are what tend to reach people most deeply.

You’ve got a sound that lives between a lot of genres, how did you find something that actually fit you? Were you just in the studio with different producers figuring it out?

It comes from the uniqueness of my journey as an artist. My entrance into music was through grime around 2015 and 2016, but I grew up listening to hip-hop, I played jazz and, before becoming an artist, I was involved in spoken word. My taste has also always leaned towards things that feel ambient and otherworldly. I grew up watching anime, and I wanted my music to carry some of that same sense of atmosphere and world-building.

I don’t only care about words. Cadence matters to me too. The way something is delivered can be just as important as what is being said. There was a chilled UK rap scene developing around that period, which I connected with heavily, but I was still bringing grime flows into it. If you wanted to define the sound technically, it takes elements of that mellow UK rap style and combines them with grime.

The production I choose is often chilled, ambient or jazzy, with live instrumentation and strong drums. I’ve always wanted to make something recognisable rather than sounding like another version of somebody else.

You’ve collaborated with Paul Stephan a lot, alongside a lot of other artists coming through at the same time. It feels like a healthy moment in UK music, where lyricists are pushing each other up rather than just competing. 

We’re all genuinely competitive, but there’s a sense of sportsmanship to it.Everyone wants to be at the top of their game, while still creating space for other people to shine. I think that kind of competition is important because, without it, what are we doing?

At the same time, we recognise each other’s skill and greatness. The ambition is not only individual. We want to rise together and reach our full potential as artists.

‘Where’s Bliss’ is out now across streaming platforms.