East Midlands’ finest, Ady Suleiman reflects on his evolution whilst ushering in a new chapter of his career.

What happens when a musician takes time away from the spotlight to cultivate their craft and their soul? The answer lies in this new iteration of Ady Suleiman’s artistry. Following the catharsis of a six-year hiatus, the Grantham-hailed musician is returning with his most raw and honest work yet. “After all that’s said and done, it’s a beautiful life,” he utters in the lyrics of his re-emergent single, “Miracle”, serving as the perfect mantra for this new season.

Recorded between London and his motherland, Zanzibar, Ady Suleiman’s upcoming sophomore project is an introspective outpouring and a vulnerable depiction of his late 20s, tenderly expressed through song. He is not who he once was; now independent and armed with lessons learnt in life and the industry, he is wholly in tune with himself. The forthcoming body of work is therefore a reflective and emotionally expansive affair, adorned with a voice so distinct that the singer announces himself from the very first note. 

In light of this creative rebirth, this gifted music-maker sits down with Wonderland to look back on his journey thus far. Built on a foundation of innate talent, years of musical study, and the wisdom of maturity, Ady Suleiman is back—and the evolution is palpable.  

Listen his newest single…

You’ve taken a bit of a hiatus. What has changed during your time away from the limelight? 

I’ve got a beard! But what has actually changed? I’ve matured, I’m so much calmer as a person. I’m in my early 30s now so I’ve had a natural kind of growth. Someone did mention to me the other day that I seem much happier.

What made you feel like now is the right time to share your art with the world again?

Honestly, I would’ve loved to share sooner but an intentional hiatus turned into an unintentional one. When I first stepped away, it was very much on purpose. I’d signed a new deal so I had some funds to make a record, but doing music felt like constantly being on a conveyor belt. I felt a shift in myself—I just wanted to go away and make something that I was really proud of. 

And then we had the pandemic which was a bit of a nightmare for me creatively. Not being on stage for so long was tough—performing used to really pick me up. In the process of writing a record, you sometimes ask yourself, “Is what I’m doing worth it? Do people even care?” And then you go on tour and you meet your audience face to face, and that gives you a proper boost. But being so isolated led to a kind of creative rabbit hole. A lot of self-doubt crept in and then there were also financial troubles ’cause I was independent. So honestly, with this record, I would’ve loved to finish it sooner. But unintentionally, I think it has actually lined up the way it was supposed to.

Tell me a bit more about how the new project reflects who you are today.

It was a period of self-discovery—I was dealing with anxieties and I was newly single. It’s basically a documentary of my late 20s. I feel like I’m at the other side now so it’s a very honest account of where I was, more than where I am now. 

What do you want people to take away from the art? 

I hope they can appreciate that there’s a depth to the music. You might have to listen to it a couple of times. There are layers, not necessarily just in the songwriting, but in the sound, in the sonics of the record. 

You grew up in the Midlands but have also reconnected with your Swahili roots. How does your background show up in your art and identity?

Wow, that’s such a good question. Some people have a clear understanding of where they’re from and who they are, and it comes across in their music and the way that they present themselves. For me, it’s something I’ve always really struggled with. I feel like identity, at least for myself, is something that’s quite fluid. 

I grew up in a small town in Lincolnshire called Grantham. People would love going to the pub for the weekend game of football, there’d be a couple of scraps, it was quite a ‘laddy‘ place. Moving away from that definitely made me explore my identity, and that’s what led me back to Tanzania and Kenya during my hiatus. When I went out to Zanzibar again after such a long time, I was like, ‘Wow, I really visualise a lot of my music being sat here.’ Not necessarily the lyrics or the stories, more the sound of it: the nylon string guitar, the kind of Latin Cuban flavours… Zanzibar and Stone Town have this feeling of a mixing pot of cultures. When it comes to my music, there’s always been a worldly feel to it, this sunshine kind of feel. 

A lot of UK talent comes from London, so how does it feel to be representing the East Midlands?

It’s really important to me. Even though I’ve lived in London for over 10 years now, the Midlands is part of my identity. I think it’s important to put the Midlands on the map because a lot of regional places are underrepresented. When I was growing up in Grantham, being an artist felt like a pipe dream—it didn’t ever really feel achievable because there wasn’t a big community of musicians to look up to. I was super lucky with the school I went to; we had a great music department, and then I went on to university to study music. My music community was through my education and without that, I would’ve struggled to find my path. It’s important to me to represent the Midlands because having people to look up to from where you’re from is the easiest way to be inspired.

Knowing what you know now, is there anything that you would change about your journey?

I’m really a firm believer that I am where I’m supposed to be, and I stand by all the decisions I’ve made in my life. But I’d love more time—it would be nice to go back and do things again, just for the joy of it. 

And what are you most proud of in this chapter of your career? 

There are a couple of answers. One is that I’m happy I didn’t give up. I’m proud that I persevered and pushed through. I’m approaching this chapter with much more gratitude and humility; in being able to do music and still put records out and write songs and sing. I had some vocal problems a couple of years ago and I kind of took my health and my singing for granted, but I’m much more present now. Before, I had my blinkers on—I was just chasing the next thing instead of appreciating where I was and what I’d done. That’s probably what I’m enjoying the most this time round: really feeling everything. Every small win means a lot.

Words – Davina Nylander

Photography – Lennon Gregory