Wonderland

KHAKIKID IS FINDING HIMSELF

Irish-Libyan rapper Khakikid is undergoing a creative and personal shift, trading old insecurities for honesty and everyday inspiration. Beneath the brazen smirk sits a restless observer, readying his most revealing work yet.

On a gusty, boozy night in Stoke Newington, Abdu Huss is recounting a recent shift in outlook. “I realised that my life – the everyday, the people around me – is interesting, and I don’t need to make stuff up to be imaginative,” he says, pausing between loud crunches of the last icy embers in his whisky coke. “You don’t have to be the person experiencing everything to write about it. For some reason in my head, for a while it felt like stealing or something, like it’s not my story to tell. But now I realise it’s not just about me.”

Dublin-born-and-bred Ab – or Khakikid to those who know him only through his sonic endeavours – carries a boyish charm. Yet when he speaks about this epiphany on art, self, and situational worth, there’s a sincerity that dips beneath the cheeky-chap veneer, revealing an observant 24-year-old searching not just for answers, but for solutions too.

A few hours earlier, he’d been mugging for photographer Guy Lowdens’ lens for his Wonderland feature – effortlessly chirpy, the life and soul of the room. Now, as we reap the rewards of a long day’s shoot, our encounter feels more like a catch-up between old pals. Any trace of interview formality was shed long before our first sláinte. We talk Elvis impersonators and place bets on Celebrity Traitors. I near-perfectly split the “G” on my Guinness – he’s mightily impressed.

Despite his easy camaraderie and confidence, Ab has always felt like an outsider. He grew up in the less-than-affluent Crumlin estate in South West Dublin, sharing a bedroom with his three siblings. “[My] ma was broke, so we’d get my uncle’s clothes or charity shop clothes,” he recalls. And while the city’s multiculturalism has grown in recent years, for a young Irish-Libyan kid, navigating mixed-race identity in the Irish capital was as complex as it was challenging.

“Now it’s lit, being mixed, being an outsider, but back in the day, I really wanted to just be Irish,” he admits. “When I was a kid, I would waffle to people, say I was Spanish. Being an Arab post 9-11 wasn’t it. But if you were Spanish, you’d go to Spain for your summer holidays, football, Barcelona, blah, blah. It was also so funny to be like, ‘I’m Spanish, my name’s Abdu.’ It didn’t really work that well.”

In his late teens though, Ab’s view changed. He found peace within himself, and became proud of his heritage. “I let other people’s opinions convince me that I wasn’t Irish and had a whole internal conflict, an identity issue. I had to accept that I am mixed and I am North African but also, I am my own version of Irish, you know? When I came to accept that, it somehow made me feel more Irish too. It’s so silly, but even putting the Libyan flag in my Instagram bio was a big deal for me. It’s such a weird thing to feel relief by just saying it, because it’s not a big deal, but it really was a weight off my chest.”

There is, in many ways, a parallel between Ab’s personal growth and his artistic evolution. His outsider outlook during his formative years drew him to a type of music that felt foreign and exciting: rap. Before this current golden era of Irish music – with the likes of Fontaines D.C., CMAT and Kneecap setting pace – he remembers local artists singing with American or British accents, recreating or pastiching whatever dominated the mainstream. But as he came to terms with his own identity, his musical outlook shifted too. “Instead of trying to be Anderson .Paak or Mac Miller, I realised why those guys were so appealing to me. It was because they were themselves, and they made rap music.”

In the five or so year tenure since emerging with debut cut “Last Week” and blowing up with 2021 alt rap classic “Shlumped Up”, Khakikid has established himself as a staple of the Dublin hip-hop scene, synonymous with a natural inclination of lyrical observation and blase charisma, always “coming at an idea or a song from a slightly left field perspective.”

He has three EPs out in the world – most recently sharing four-track “Moanbag” in February of this year – and has built a web of stellar collaborators, most notably highly talented producer and vocalist F3miii, and Bricknasty, the incredible FAMM-signed genre-benders with whom Ab is close friends. “It’s always about, ‘You gotta work with this producer cause he made this song with this person, blah blah blah.’ I’m still super excited to work with new people, but it’s nice to get to work with your friends and have the comfort of knowing these people understand you.”

The most significant checkpoints in Ab’s career still lie directly ahead. First, on 27 November, he’ll headline Dublin’s 3Olympia Theatre, a full-circle moment and his biggest milestone yet (just an FYI – it’s sold out). Then, early in the new year, he’ll return with a new EP, playfully titled “Girl Bites Dog”, featuring contributions from F3miii, Bricknasty, dexterous London rapper JD Cliffe and local newcomer Joe Butler. With his shift in perspective on full display, it’s set to be Abs’ most honest and exploratory work to date. “The last project was me putting on my shoes, and the next project is me putting on my boxers,” he laughs. “After that, hopefully I’ll put on jeans and be a fully coated man at some point.”

Ab is suiting up for a run of wins. His artistic mantra is sharpening; he’s making the best music of his career, getting better with each record, and learning to find worth in everything around him. He’s self-aware, but not paralysed by it. “Being an artist is having control over everything you do, but it’s also the continuousness of being perceived. But you have to forget that you’re being perceived. If you make art with that in the back of your mind, you’ll be making fucking TikTok dances for the rest of your life and talking about espressos and shit. It’s just remembering that you, your work, your music are worthwhile,” he says with conviction, before frowning slightly. “I just haven’t gotten there fully yet, you know?”