J. Caesar’s fascination in the world around him is palpable, even through our screens, his energy crackles like there’s too much to talk about and never enough time to get to it all. Mirroring the arcs of his music, which shift dramatically from stretches of melancholy to euphoric climaxes, Caesar delights in taking conversations to unexpected places, finding breakthroughs amid his winding thoughts.

Caesar’s story began in Harrow, initially growing up attending hardcore gigs and taking in the indie and pop punk which dominated the scant music scenes of London’s outer fringes. Eager to explore his growing obsession, he soon hit the decks, frequently getting the train into London for Fabric nights out with his ‘suburban crew’. Accompanied by stints in various bands from his early teens, by the time he finally moved to the city, he was all in.

“You’re a go-getter when you have limited resources,” Caesar begins, “my friends and I would go to this festival in Bulgaria, every year, in some random skiing town. It was nuts, we’d be chased around by Bulgarian football hooligans or having taxi drivers trying to kickbox us. We were 19 and we’d run one of the smaller stages, it was very DIY.” This concept of something made entirely of your own volition is a thread which runs throughout the 28-year-old’s work and life.

Caesar approaches music-making with an ad lib DIY creativity, and listening to his beautifully honest songs can feel like rummaging through a treasure box. While his earlier records like “Wisdomics” EP, are more dance-leaning, his music has always been indelibly linked to the feelings it can evoke. “I tapped into a new voice on my latest project. The older I get the more I’m exploring my own emotional defects,” he admits. He mentions the intersection of pain and hope being reflected across his latest EP, Another Day, Another World, something he is proud to look back on creating, “When I listen back to stuff I’ve made and when I make new music, that feeling it evokes is important to me.”

J. Caesar may seem like he emerged from nowhere, but he has spent most of his life incubating this rockstar moment. As he settled himself into city life in his early 20s, he found an opportunity to break into the film industry and quickly earned his place amongst local creative circles, going to club nights and meeting with industry heads. His family were both ‘in the industry,’ so he felt prepared for the great creative pursuit that he was about to embark on. “I grew up around working actors and playwrights, freelancing people making ends meet. So I got into acting and music with no misconceptions of the reality behind it. Which doesn’t make it any easier when you’re six months without work coming in and you have no idea how you’re going to pay your taxes,” he says with a dry laugh. “But I have that deep faith that money comes and goes, work comes and goes. And I’m into that cycle now where I’ve been doing it long enough to understand that. Although he finds solace in both music and acting, the multidisciplinary finds he gains more emotional relief from theatre than he does behind a mic or instrument. Explaining this, he describes a recent performance he did at The Barbican, “This piece was about me having a mental breakdown, and it slowly reaches a climax where there’s not a lot of words, it’s more of a physical performance. Now I can’t really do that in my music so much, because it’s me, but when I’m on stage, it’s kind of like you’ve got the licence to do whatever. Within the parameters of the performance of course.”

He’s not on a major label but he’s been steadily releasing music since the late 2010s, polishing his sound, and perfecting his high-quality output, that can only have been crafted with a sufficient amount of time and care. Employing a nostalgic, subdued palette with an emphasis on simplicity, it’s easy to fall down a rabbit hole listening to his releases. His songs are musical vignettes that bleed into each other. You could listen for an hour without realising any time has passed. “I delve into metaphors and poeticisms when it comes to my music. I am quite a strong believer in saying what you mean. The simplicity in that.” It is playful, historically minded, and carefully constructed at once. Although his style is constructed on elements of dance and soul, Caesar draws on an eclectic mix of different sounds and aesthetics, working his samples up amid layers of noise and retro 8-bit soundscapes to create knotty, vivid textures.

“The theme of the [Another Day Another World] was just my life at the time, and I think it’s special to me because it’s not just a personal reflection.” Caesar’s talking about lockdown, and the subsequent years where the world went static. Merely through our existence at that time, it really was “another day in another world.” Across the four-track EP, he draws on an eclectic mix of different sounds through his rich vocals and aesthetics building his samples up amid layers of noise. He felt fortunate to work with Verity, his girlfriend, on the video for lead single, “Another World”. Working with someone who perceives him through a loving gaze was an entirely different experience. “It allowed me to be close to something whilst still being able to give it space,” he lingers on this thought, “It’s ownership as well, when you collaborate with someone, you want them to take ownership of their part. Being a creative nowadays, things become very transactional”

“I’m not a control freak with visual stuff in the same way I would be with the actual sound of the music, I’m not so much a visual person, I take bad photos, I’m awful at drawing. But I’ve got taste” he adds with conviction. Caesar defines success in a lateral sense – it’s something he’s still finding the words for – an understandable position these days as our creative industries become increasingly fraught. “Whether I’m making a 135 bpm garage track or I’m doing no drums, pulling inspiration from some of my favourite country music, it will all sound like me, and will come under the umbrella of J. Caesar. That’s the output, that’s the vision. Artist’s can only be a representation of themselves and you’ve got to have faith in that. It’s not the substance of what I’m doing, it’s the context in which I’m doing it.”

For J. Caesar, simplicity isn’t always what it seems. By slowing down, exploring the details and stretching each note, he uncovers vast musical soundscapes within his compositions. “I want to bring people into my life, into my world, into my processes. Another answer of what success is to me is, it’s about having good stories to tell at dinner parties. With my work and with certain opportunities, I get to go around the world and explore life. And long may that continue. As long as I continue growing incrementally, that’s a success in itself.” Something that’s evidenced by his own gradual immersion in London’s music culture, the kind of slow-and-steady growth that eventually pays dividends. This is what a blossoming music scene looks (and sounds) like.

Listen to “Another Day, Another World”…

Read the exclusive interview…

Your latest EP, Another Day, Another World, feels like it taps into a concept where you’re detached from reality, something intangible almost. Can you tell me a little bit about the project and how the theme manifested in the first place?
The theme of the EP was just my life at the time, and I think it’s special to me because it’s not just a personal reflection, it taps into our reality of that period around 2021 to 2022 because… It was another day in another world. We haven’t necessarily deeped how much the world has changed and now here we are, the world has changed.

“Another World,” is one of those tracks where you find yourself staring out the bus window, as if in your own music video. Especially topped off with those nostalgic 8-bit elements.
It’s 100% that. I write poetry and I love the English language, so I delve into metaphors and poeticisms when it comes to my music. I am quite a strong believer in saying what you mean. The simplicity in that. I don’t really go into the depths of that period of change necessarily, but there’s a feeling in the sound of the music. I tapped into a new voice on top of that… I think in the way that I sang and performed on this project where, like you say, there is that feeling of looking out of the train window or the bus window, right? That feeling of introspection. When I listen back to stuff I’ve made, that feeling it evokes is important to me. And it’s not for me to write about how hard Covid was or anything, but that now, things might be better. Like in “Icon”, it weirdly has my favourite lyric, but it’s not even that heavy… “You’re beating on my heart. I adore you, baby,” Lyrics like that, where normally, they’d be classed as a love song. But because of the way of the world at that time and the space that I was in – having just come out of a relationship and scared of getting a new one – I was being reflective of the pain, while maintaining this feeling of hope.

You’re leaving it for interpretation… And that leaves room for all sort of different people to relate to the music.
Exactly. And I’ve made a few things recently that are a bit more reflective of a new sound. Or not so much a new sound, but a new part to the sound that I’ve already started to explore and establish.

Would you say that’s an important part in finding your next chapter as an artist? Through stepping out of your comfort zone, to access the most growth. Without diving into toxic hustle culture of course.
Definitely. There’s a fine line of feeling like a failure to yourself, when you’re not expressing yourself in the way that you want to. You think, well, what’s the point? So I do have to just wait and then it naturally comes out of me. But that can be scary because you’re thinking, ‘oh God, I haven’t made any music for three, four months and will I ever make a song again?’ I do say though, everyone in the creative world has to have a foot in the door of the advertising world. I do a lot of voice overs.

What kind of voice overs? Cartoon voices or…
Do you know what weirdly, I’ve started to dip a bit more into that. I’ve got a few voice tapes for a couple of CBeebies kids shows. That’s fun. I’ve never actually got one of those. But mainly I’ve done advertising things. I used to do a lot of Google adverts. So if you ever had a Google Pixel advert before a YouTube video – that was me. That’s my claim to fame at the moment. I’m intrigued about doing more funny voice bits. I’d never want to do commercials or acting in an advert. It’s this weird thing about ownership over your own image. But when it’s my voice, I’ll do whatever for money. Well… I’ve got a few moral boundaries of course.

The video for “Another World”––this beautiful, surrealist visual––made alongside Verity May-Lane, can you tell me a bit about what that collaborative process looked like?
So Verity is my girlfriend. It’s really nice actually, because I’ve never been in such a collaborative relationship. I think before that, I found it hard to find collaborators, I‘ve always been quite independent in my creativity, which has its pitfalls because even though I have an image and an idea of something, and it’s all quite natural, I couldn’t just sit down and resolutely say this is what the visuals should look like. So to have someone who looks at my art through a loving gaze and they can interpret it… that’s really nice to have.

I suppose collaboration is massively about trust. And It’s that guarantee of trust with someone you’re in a relationship with, because you’ve already built it outside of the creative process.
It allows me to be close to something, whilst still giving it space. Like you say, it’s complete trust. I’m not a control freak with visual stuff in the same way I would be with the actual sound of the music, I’m not so much a visual person, I take bad photos, I’m awful at drawing. But I’ve got taste and I know what it should be so to be able to watch the process whilst allowing her to do her thing, was very reassuring as a collaboration goes. We did the “Icon” video together as well and she was very much the driving force behind that. It’s ownership as well, I think what works for me recently, when you collaborate with someone, you want them to take ownership. Being a creative nowadays, things become very transactional, you want everyone to take ownership for their part.

Taking ownership of your skills is almost overlooked at this point. A question I often return to, because no one answer comes out the same – what does the idea of success or a legacy look like to you right now?
Interesting, that is a good one because truthfully, it’s probably the question every artist wakes up thinking about. There’s probably multiple answers depending on the person, I’ve even got different answers depending on what level of insecurity I’m feeling. Success to me is always wanting to be a part of a cultural shift or legacy. I’m an actor as well and it’s a huge passion of mine, and people ask me – what’s your dream role? But I don’t necessarily have one. I’d like to be a part of something culturally impactful, whether in a small sense or a wider one. I’m trying to find the right words for it…

I think I can feel the thread you’re pulling at. It’s important to know what you’re passionate about, what your ambition is, but if you focus on just one big goal, that could almost limit the directions and paths you could then take yourself on?
Exactly that. It’s 100% that because, over lockdown, I had a bit of an epiphany where I realised I’m going to remove goals and just stay ambitious. What it is for me, I’ve been doing this for so long, the same with acting and all my art – it’s where I understand it’s unique to me and of a high standard of my own. I enjoy the music I make. I enjoy the work I do. So success to me is, whatever I do becomes culturally relevant. But also that I will never change what I do to become culturally relevant. I’ve just got to hope and pray that the world and that culture either finds me or slots me in somehow, if I just keep doing what I do consistently. Whether that’s money or not, it’s about having artistic impact while remaining truthful to what I’m passionate about. Whether I’m making a 135 bpm garage track or I’m doing no drums, pulling inspiration from some of my favourite country music, it will all sound like me, and will come under the umbrella of J. Caesar. That’s the output, that’s the vision. Artist’s can only be a representation of themselves and you’ve got to have faith in that. It’s not the substance of what I’m doing, it’s the context in which I’m doing it.

You mentioned as well, as an actor – there’s a strong theme of being a storyteller, communicating a narrative. Do you find intersections between music and acting in that sense?
It comes from that only child-like drive of wanting to connect with people, wanting to understand them more. The vulnerabilities that I tap into, are almost different genres of vulnerability. My music is a chance for me to understand my innate human loneliness, which sounds kind of deep but it applies. I used to ask my mum, why am I a lonely child? I’m naturally drawn to exploring that, and the chords that I’m drawn to, the soundscape, the context of When I’m writing music, it almost creates that story for me. Whereas with acting, depending on the role, I can touch on that, but there’s a wider range of things I tap into. Other elements, like I can tap into my anger a bit more, I can tap into my passion and there’s other parts of me that I can access. I think I find acting more cathartic.

Would you say that’s because you’re embodying another character, someone that’s not yourself?
Yes, you can be a bit more. There’s a physical theatre company I’m associated with, called the Pappy Company, and they had their ten year thing about the Barbican. I did a piece for the show – ultimately, this piece was about me having a mental breakdown, and it slowly reaches a climax, there’s not a lot of words, it’s more of a physical thing. Now I can’t really do that in my music so much because it’s me, but when I’m on stage, it’s kind of like you’ve got the licence to do whatever, within the parameters of the performance. So I was shouting on this stage and having this mental breakdown, and then I’d walk off and everyone would come and congratulate me on my performance, rather than ‘are you okay?’.

I imagine that’s incredibly therapeutic. Is any aspect of it a challenge to invoke?
It was exhausting but I also needed it. It felt like free therapy. I’ve chosen two of the toughest games, but I’m built for it to some extent. Both of my parents were in ‘the industry’, so I grew up around working actors and playwrights, freelancing people making ends meet. So I got into it with no misconceptions of the reality behind it. Which doesn’t make it any easier when you’re six months without work coming in and you have no idea how you’re going to pay your taxes. But I have that deep faith that money comes and goes, work comes and goes. And I’m deep enough into that cycle now where I’ve been doing it long enough now where you understand the reality.

There’s a pic of you with a magpie on your Instagram. Can you give a bit of context behind this? How do you even access a magpie?
That was for the Icon video, it was a taxidermy magpie. R.i.p. Maggie. It was an interesting process coming up with that because Verity and I had done the “Another World” video where the thought process was – let’s just shoot in beautiful places. We went to Sardinia for that. It was a very visual led thing. But then for the next one, for the Icon video, we wanted to do more of a conceptual, short film-esque, approach.

The production value and quality is there for sure.
We wanted to show our range and we want to make films together as well. It’s basically about an older woman. I initially came up with the idea where I would be working in an old people’s home, literally giving foot rubs to the ‘iconic older women’… Then Verity pointed out that it was pretty weird. It wasn’t in a sexual way, but more bigging up the older generation. Anyway, it planted the seed and we had this idea of an iconic older woman – we feel like older people aren’t represented with beautiful imagery per se. That idea snowballed into this visual, from Verity and her amazingly artistic mind. We started thinking about magpies and how they’re obsessed with shiny things. So this older woman who’s adorned in gold jewellery and obsessed with her image, has this magpie that comes and flies into her window and she builds this relationship with the magpie, but the magpie is not interested in the gold. The magpie is interested in her. We shot on VHS and we thought – let’s do an old nature documentary called The Magpies, where I’m a TV presenter who’s also obsessed with magpies. So, we went and shot that up on the Saddleworth Moors, just outside Manchester. I mean, it cost us a fucking arm and a leg and it’s bankrupt me a little bit. But I’m very proud.

Well, I’m really glad that you did go for it. I think often, to get the feeling of an impactful body of work or song, a novel could almost be written from it – there’s a narrative.
For sure. I think the upper hand I have at the moment is maybe not being that successful yet and having the time to really flesh out these creative ideas. If a label wants a video in two weeks, for example, what are we going to do? We really had the time to create something that was special and meaningful to us. And I may not always have that so I’m really cherishing that at the moment. And it was a beautiful thing, a beautiful collaborative effort, not even just from the two of us, but we brought loads of friends on board. Lots of people chipped in and helped out. It’s a beautiful piece of work that we’ve created that I’m sure down the line will lead to more doors opening.

By continuing to put your honest self into your work, the right people will start seeing it and the right people will gravitate towards you.
Exactly. I was in all sorts of bands because when I moved out of London to the suburbs, you know, there weren’t many black people, so the music scenes were quite limited – until I got into DJing when I was a teenager. Around the, was a big Indie scene and the sort of pop punk, borderline hardcore. So I’d go to a lot of hardcore gigs. And for me, I just loved music and wanted to be part of that scene. And still now, despite my acting passions which have maybe taken a bit more of a front seat in my life, I’d still much rather hang around with music people. I love the creativity, I actually miss those years of getting together and doing band practices and doing shit like actually playing live stuff. I’d like to find an outlet for that again.

The freedom of that environment. Well, I say freedom, it’s almost the arrogance of youth as well. That boundless approach to creativity where you’re not scared to take risks or worry it’s going to consume too much energy. You just do it as a kid, I love that feeling.
Definitely. It’s amazing. This was the Myspace days even, so you could share your music, but there was no pressure of success really. And maybe that still exists. I hope it does. But I sometimes have to check myself and think, you’re an old guy now. If I was 14 and a 28 year old was saying something about ‘oh, in my time…’ I’d tell them to shut up. So, from my perspective, because the music industry changed so much, although there’s a beauty in the accessibility to music for more people, I think what that’s brought in is this pressure of – this is a career path. Whereas when we were in bands, we would play at the local youth club and if someone started a mosh pit to our music, we would think ‘sick, we fucking made it’. Maybe that does still exist.

J. Caesar will be starring in a new Paramount+ series called “The Doll Factory,” premiered in December. Check out the full interview below.