Meet Henny Knightz: Facing Demons in the Random House of Evil
“It was very bizarre; it had loads of different rooms, and each one represented a demon.”
East Londoner Henny Knightz (@hennyknightz) has broken the boundaries of R&B and Hip-Hop, with his niche EP Random House of Evil. Mixed and mastered by the man himself, the entirety of this gritty EP has Knightz’ stamp all over it, from the crazy beats to the insane rap flow. Henny Knightz is what the industry needs: one of the very few leading the way to revolutionary changes within the music scene, with his new skool mash up of evocative lyrics and unique tempos. Knightz sat down with us last week to talk about his latest project, and the inspiration for putting a dynamic spin on our favourite genres. As the BLM Movement is turbulent, our chat couldn’t have been more fitting, as Knightz’ experiences as a black artist are all intertwined with current issues.
Knightz has been in the game for more than 10 years, working closely with partner Nicki Knightz (@nickiknightz) and other members of his independently founded Knighthood Society. Knightz has a mercurial past, which he shares in Random House of Evil. Before delving into what early life was like for Knightz growing up in Hackney, I was intrigued to know what inspired the name and concept of his EP.
Henny Knightz: Actually, the idea came from a dream - I was on my own and I saw this house, but it was kind of like a bar and I was the owner. It’s hard to explain. It was very bizarre; it had loads of different rooms, and each one represented a demon. By demons I don’t mean evil things; I mean past mistakes and a feeling that I’d held in, and there were triggers in the rooms that lurched me back into that feeling.
Knightz’ breakthrough sounds a lot like Lewis Carroll’s inspiration for writing Alice in Wonderland, only without the drugs and hysteria.
Nuprint Magazine: Very interesting! We’ll come back to the EP in more detail. But first tell me, where are you based?
I’m from Hackney.
And how has lockdown affected you?
I’ve been suffering with depression for 10 years, so lockdown gave me more clarity. The start felt like doomsday. I thought oh my god, this could be it. But having that time forced me to figure out who I am as a person. Lockdown definitely gave me an opportunity to self-reflect and collect my thoughts.
Coming back to Random House of Evil, how did living in Hackney influence your music and your identity?
Growing up in Hackney, having a certain kind of persona was important; if something was affecting me emotionally, or a relationship went south, I would just hold it in. There’s an unspoken dress code you have to abide by when you’re young as well. Going out in Shoreditch and Brick Lane was like heaven; I felt so at home. I found people who dressed more freely and had piercings like me. It was like a safe haven; before that I had to talk and act a certain way and hold in my emotions. Drake and Lupe Fiasco [and various other artists] allowed me to be more confident with expressing my thoughts; they didn’t rap about being the tough guy. They wrote lyrics about how they were feeling, and that saved my life.
Henny Kightz knows first hand how systemic racism seeps into all aspects of a person’s life. His mum worked two jobs which he raps about in Kill, and following a negligent lack of support at school, he didn’t find out until his early 20s that he was dyslexic. Deeply rooted racial biases are at the forefront of social interactions, and that affected Knightz in a way that made it almost impossible to talk on his feelings to his friends; acting tough was essential.
I used to try to personify the image of a thug because that’s what I thought girls wanted me to be. That’s the image my friends expected me to have. In somewhere like Hackney, you do what you can to survive. No-one’s inherently a bad person, but when your mum is working mad jobs and she’s not at home, you feel like you need to help out and support your family. You find any means that are available. There’s an idea that everyone makes their own choices, but a lot of people don’t have a choice.
So when you started chilling in Shoreditch and Brick Lane, developing your music and breaking away from your group, did you lose any friends or were they all supportive?
Yeah, I did lose friends along the way. A few of my friends supported what I was doing, and understood how I felt. But there were a few who just didn’t get the vision I was trying to create. They kind of fell off. But I’m still tight with some of the people I grew up with.
Did you lose any close friends?
I did - my best friend Caj Knightz - I met him in year 7. When I created the Knighthood Society he was always on board, and he was always supportive. His dream was never to be a rapper. Caj was into art and wanted to be a lawyer, but he always wanted to record with me. Then Nicki joined and it was us three all the time, writing and producing.
And then what happened?
It was quite sudden. Caj had started uni and was coming back for the holidays. I’d just made these beats and was really excited to show him when he came down. I was showing him the beats, joking around and whatnot but he kept falling in and out, like he wasn’t all there. He just didn’t seem himself. We went to Westfield that day, and I just thought he was ill or sleepy. I said to him ‘go home and I’ll hit you up in a couple days, we’ll link up later in the week if we can’. And that was the last time I spoke to him.
Am I right in thinking that the affect of losing Caj Knightz came up in your dream, and influenced how you made Random House of Evil?
Definitely. One of the rooms represented the demon that was grief. Devil’s Locker represents the locker you keep shut that bursts open when you least expect it.
I wouldn’t have guessed that you had depression. How have you dealt with it?
I’ve been trying with counselling and therapy on and off for the past 10 years, but I just thought why should I tell someone my issues? Not in an obnoxious way. I just thought, they’re dealing with their own problems and it would be selfish of me to offload everything onto one person. It’s also a thing where I’d be sitting across from my counsellor wondering, ‘do you actually care about what I’m saying, or are you just thinking about what you’re about to have for lunch?’
I think that’s a problem a lot of young people have when seeking help. They find it hard to share their thoughts with therapists, although they’re professionals. We should definitely talk about it more - at the moment a lot of people aren’t talking to counsellors because they feel they might be judged or ignored. [There’s also a waiting list]
It’s something I’ve always struggled with, being able to trust a counsellor or therapist.
Let’s move onto the BLM Movement now - it’s very relevant to what we’ve talked about so far. Do you think being in touch with your emotions is engineered as only being accessible to white people?
It’s actually something I say in Devil’s Locker - “Cuz you’re Black, you aint allowed to be depressed” - in the Black Community, if you’re not dying you have to just keep it moving. The Black Community grow up with PTSD from knowing we’re a target to society or an enemy gang. There’s a constant fear of either being stopped and arrested, or being rushed and stabbed. You’d always feel on edge preparing for something to happen. Hackney was a crazy area back in the day! I think that because some people aren’t confident enough to speak for themselves, that representation within the BLM Movement is needed for the black community, the working class, and people of colour in general.
And speaking of this, I was thinking about how homes within the Black and Rastafarian Community have a lot of domestic violence. I wondered if it’s because the 70s was a hostile environment; black men were constantly being told no and being shat on by society. That must have affected relationships with their families. Imagine you’ve had a really bad day at work, you come home with all this frustration and the smallest thing makes you explode.
I wondered that too. I think it’s definitely true, especially since domestic violence was widely overlooked in the 70s. Do you think it’s an area of generational trauma that links to black people’s struggle to speak honestly about feeling depressed?
Definitely, we’ve always been misunderstood. That’s why when writing Random House of Evil I realised that I hadn’t properly dealt with the grief of losing Caj. I wasn’t really able to talk about it properly with anyone. I couldn’t talk about it with my family or friends because I felt they only wanted to know about the good things happening in my life.
Did you go to any of the BLM protests?
Well, I’m diabetic, so because I’m in the at-risk group I couldn’t go. And I hate big crowds. It’s weird because when I perform in front of crowds I feel safe, but when I’m in it I feel really uncomfortable. It was one summer at a reggae festival - I can’t fully remember which one it was but it might have been Sun Splash. I was 5 at the time. I was there with my mum and I faintly remember someone shouting ‘he has a gun!’. People were running and it was absolute chaos. Ever since then I’ve always avoided big crowds, so I’ve never been to carnival.
That’s actually mad!
Ha, I know.
You mentioned the Knighthood Society earlier. Can you tell me a bit more about that?
I started the Knighthood Society in 2008. My whole life I felt very outcasted from everyone else, so I created it for individuals who felt like me but wanted to do something different and belong somewhere.
That sounds like a legit collective! How many of you are there?
Haha, I think it is. We’ve had a few committed members over the years, but they drifted off to do their own thing. Now it’s pretty much just me and Nicki Knightz.
And have you done any collabs, or are you planning any?
I collab a lot with my close friend Ivohé (@ivohe). I have a special musical relationship with her. If I want harmonies in a song she gets the sound that I’m looking for. She has always lent her voice in some way or another.
The conversation with Henny Knightz was indeed refreshing, sobering and enlightening. “It’s better to have an interview that’s deeper than surface-level. Nowadays time has never felt so precious and its better to have deeper conversations; there are so many nuances that make us human beings”. Random House of Evil is the tip of the Henny Knightz ice berg; expect a lot more from this fireball.
Stream and listen to Random House of Evil here: