Revered singer, songwriter, producer and multi-instrumentalist Jordan Rakei greets me on a blustery Tuesday afternoon in late January at the train station of the quaint town, just outside of London, that he now calls home. I find him chirpy, laidback and enthusiastic about the announcement of his fifth album, The Loop, days later.

I jump in the passenger side of his VW Golf, Earl Sweatshirt’s drowsy tones oozing from the car stereo. We cruise along quiet B roads towards his countryside home, where he resides with his wife and two-year-old son.

We bond over Radiohead – more specifically Mac Randall’s unofficial biography, Exit Music, their infamous problem solver Nigel Godrich, and the impact that the Oxford five-piece have had on Rakei himself. “That band is just so inspirational,” he says. “I don’t even make that style of music but I always have looked to them. They influence my songwriting in some ways, that melancholic, ambient, subtle Radiohead/Jeff Buckley sound. Whenever I make those more emotional tunes I’m like – ‘this really is me this really feels the most like me.’ But you can’t make a whole album like that.”

“Unless you’re Radiohead,” I reply.

“Welcome to the countryside! Are you alright with dogs?” the 31-year-old asks as we pull into his slanted driveway. Marnie, an amiable golden retriever, barks in excitement as we enter the front door. I stroke the friendly canine as Rakei pours a black coffee for me and a sparkling water for himself, calling it “more of a treat” than regular water. Complimenting his home (open plan, modern and congenial decor), we settle in.

Rakei is a New Zealand-native who grew up mostly in small town Australia. “It’s a great place, good vibes,” he reminisces fondly. “The music scene at the time was very new though, especially in my genre. There was only really Hiatus Kayote. Other than that it was mainly indie rock. It was very hard to break through which is why I decided to come to London.”

Ten or so years ago, Rakei packed a modest suitcase and embarked on an odyssey to the English capital, in the hopes of finding himself – and a home for his then sun-infused soulful strand of jazz. “I read all about these jam sessions, poetry nights and the London hustle. My plan was just to come for a couple of months, but when I got here it was like – this is my place. I just really loved the city, I found myself walking around Oxford Circus with my headphones in listening to my favourite records; being so happy I was in this insane metropolis of culture.”

Diving into the creative scene head first – he had around 70 sessions in the first six months – he quickly made his mark, establishing himself in a flourishing soul-jazz-rap scene alongside friends and contemporaries Loyle Carner and Tom Misch. The close-knit group collaborated prolifically, finding their feet in the industry at similar times, and would share songs before they were released for comparison and approval.

Misch and Carner began – and have not stopped – finding critical acclaim and swiftly growing their fan bases. Although Rakei was also cementing his seat at the industry’s banquet, his name card was perhaps positioned less favourably. “Artists never admit this, but I would always be comparing our growth,” he sighs. “Particularly with Loyle and Tom and me, because I’m the smaller of us three. I’d be like, ‘Tom’s playing that venue, I wonder what my next venue will be… oh, Loyle’s getting big support from TV and radio, when will I have that?’ There is this thing called Artist Envy. It’s just natural to, when you’re younger, need validation.”

Nowadays though, Rakei has grown as a man and transitioned into his own esoteric musical avenue. “In a way, they’ve been good measuring sticks for me in my career. As I’ve gotten older, and more settled into family life and my own audience, it doesn’t bother me.”

The psyche of an artist is a sometimes infuriating, always intriguing, topic of conversation. “I’ve met artists, who I call true artists, that really embody this philosophical attitude. They dress in a certain way, they’re all good-looking and pose a lot,” Rakei offers on the divisive topic. “They have this artisté persona. Me, I’m just a producer that sang so had to become this front man. I met an artist recently who was like, ‘yesterday, I went into the woods and I heard the trees and it inspired me to write this poem.’ Whereas I’m going to the supermarket and thinking, ‘I’m going to make a beat today.’ I’m not really a philosophical thinker like that. I have elements of that sensitivity, but I’m not, like, you know…”

I interject, saying that I think this often comes from some kind of supercilious pretension – these so-called ‘true artists’ taking a creative high ground, erratically exaggerating to fit the mould.

Rakei laughs in consensus. “You can always see it backstage at a festival; everyone there is a character. Me and my band, we’re just normal dudes. We don’t dress in a special way. I’ve had people at festivals come up and be like, ‘do you know where the catering is?’ As if they think I work there! But I quite like that. It breaks down a barrier.”

For Rakei, a member of the Mensa society (a fact he tells me with an embarrassed chortle), creativity and sagacity are analogue. “Music to me is like a system, an algorithm, a game. Like – these frequencies work well with each other, if I chuck my voice in it, it might sound like a nice song. I’ve got songs that mean a lot to me lyrically, and I explore anxiety or death in my family or whatever. But I do think of it very logically, less philosophically. It might seem as if there’s less emotion in it because it’s more clinical and like pieces to a puzzle to me, but I think I still get that same relief. It’s just that my brain is different.”

Rakei’s inherent methodology of music making may be shunned by some – these so called ‘true artists’ – but it has undoubtedly allowed him to be more succinct in his approach to constructing a successful career. “I don’t over-conceptualise things too deeply. I just make a song, like them, then make 12 more. Then I move on. In two years I’ll be up to something new. I’m just rolling it out, getting it all out of my body.”

Over the past decade, Rakei has released four albums. 2016’s debut Cloak is raw, effervescent and gorgeously performed. In 2017, newly signed to Ninja Tune (he speaks exceedingly highly of the esteemed label) he shared his sophomore album, Wallflower, leaning ever further into groove-heavy goodness, whilst flaunting the potential of his eclectic artistry and visceral songwriting. His third and most commercially successful LP, Origin, is dramatic, focused and potent: the kind of album that signifies a deep change in an artist’s outlook on their craft and humanism. 2021’s What We Call Life is left-field, immersive and bold – the work of a writer who is still hungry and has something to prove.

It’s a discography of depth, diversity and dynamism – impressively constructed over a relatively short amount of time. Each album has its merits; Rakei’s confidence, technical prowess and creative vision arguably ameliorate with each passing project.

“I feel like there are threads throughout each of my albums that are still me,” he says, reflecting on his catalogue. “I was learning, progressing as an artist and changing my sound, but there is always something there that is quite consistent, which is this groove-based, ambient, ethereal-esque nature. People can come to my show and they can dance, but they can also cry. I’m trying to do both.”

It has been announced today (Friday 26th January) that Rakei’s fifth record – and first with major label backing (Decca Records underneath the Universal blanket) – will be released on 10th May. Two teaser singles have so far been unleashed upon our eyes – the moody beauty of “Flowers” and the focused decadence of “Freedom”. The Loop is an album that marks a significant shift in the Kiwi’s artistic approach, and stems from significant changes in his personal life; most notably the birth of his son and his settlement outside of London.

“I’ve had more peace of mind out here,” he divulges. “It’s allowed me to be more relaxed, which has allowed me to make better music. Moving out here, having a son, the dog walk element of my life and being in nature, having it as a part of my routine where I would be out in the field, rain or sunshine.”

“My new album is a rebellion on my last album, which is very produced, very direct, there’s lots of layers and it’s quite chaotic at times,” he continues. “At the time, I was really into [that sound] but then I found myself wanting this space, wanting to feel this warmth. It was like – how can I retain and translate that energy into my music? And it’s tricky because a lot of my stuff is groove-based, but it’s about not diluting the groove with 20 other elements; embracing the space in the creative process.”

The Loop is the first time that Rakei doesn’t care about what people think about his art. “I would make an album in the past and I’d be wondering what my cool jazz friends think. But with The Loop I made a record that’s really unfiltered, like, this is me and you have to deal with it. Being mid-career, having a child, I’ve realised that all that stuff about validation, dopamine from likes and the whole doom stalling thing really doesn’t matter.”

He speaks on a creative process of no judgement, no barriers in his attitude to writing. “If I’m writing a power ballad that sounds like Adele, that’s because it’s coming out of me and I’m going to let it come out first. When I was writing the demos, I wasn’t allowed to be like: ‘that’s too cheesy, that’s too long, that intro is too short.’ There were no restrictions.”

What has spawned from this approach of raw expressionism is Rakei’s grandest record to date. It’s his most cinematic, most grandiose – his most ambitious. “I was thinking – how do you make a big record? Annoyingly you just have to chuck an orchestra in there. The odd choir too.”

Rakei, a multi-hyphenate, was previously secular in his DIY ethos; why outsource when you can do it all yourself? But with The Loop, he allowed his intention to overcome his ego, outsourcing musicians and hiring a studio for two and a half weeks to record the album. “I was trying to lean into that 70s approach where they got a band in a room and they recorded in proper studio mode.”

So, a decade deep with a settled home life, what inspired Rakei to once again lay his soul bare for all to see? “I don’t believe in determinism, that we’re on this journey that we can’t change, but I do believe it’s a cycle of life that just rolls on through and you’re not really that important, but you are at the same time. The album is a story intertwined into a concept of love; love for my child, and love with my wife that revolves around our child. It is stories that are intertwined into this whole idea of parenthood, the cycle of life and things you can’t control. It’s sort of like letting go.”

Rakei shows me his self-built home studio, situated at the top of his garden. It’s a musical eden; kitted out with mouth-watering gear that he’s accumulated over the years. We geek out on specifics, share artist recommendations and discuss his forthcoming BBC6 Residency. Across eight episodes that he has already filmed, Rakei will be delving into his musical heritage – from his childhood favourites to new album inspirations. “I’ve always loved sharing my taste with my fans and it’s nice to have a platform where I can basically talk about that, I could choose the subjects that I could talk about, have a theme for each episode and the whole episode is about that theme.”

The afternoon flies and responsibilities creep up on myself and Jordan. Before we hop back in his German hatchback, I hit him with one last humdinger: what does he want to do with the rest of his life? Because “from an outsider’s perspective. you’re doing pretty well,” I observe. He chuckles then sits quietly, mulling over his answer to the generic but evasive enquiry. “It’s the first time I’ve been content with no pressure to do anything. At least for the moment. If I ended my career at this level or I plateaued, I would be so happy. I was happy years ago when I was living off music and now I have my own studio which I thought wouldn’t happen until I’m 40 or something.“

I commend his contentment but, as any half decent journalist should, squeeze him for a meatier answer. “To me now it’s about the live show turning into something that reaches a wider audience,” he replies. “I’ve always done those 11.30am slots at a jazz festival where there’s like five people in the crowd and you’re on the bill but really you’re not performing in front of anyone. One day I would love to be headlining festivals, telling my stories to big audiences.” This year will be the most bountiful opportunity to fulfil this goal, as he heads out on his biggest tour to date – some announced, some soon to be – which includes a Royal Albert Hall extravaganza, which he says he’ll go “all out” for.

I stroke Marnie goodbye and he drives me back to the station. We shake hands and I head out to battle Storm Aisha, onwards to the train back to Paddington. “I’m just really happy. I’m living the dream,” he says in our final moments together. After the afternoon I spent getting to know the measured, kind and exceptionally talented man that Jordan Rakei is, I hope he never wakes up.