Bbymutha: ‘Music is my toxic boyfriend’

In the music video for ‘gun kontrol’, Chattanooga-rapper Bbymutha is crocheting. It’s a hobby that pervades all the visuals for her new album, with each shot debuting a different one of her pastel-hued, handmade creations – from chequered mini skirts to pale pink bikini tops and frill-lined balaclavas. “I’ve crocheted my whole tour wardrobe,” she tells Dazed, briefly glancing up from the yarn pooled in her lap that she’s currently stitching into a pair of fuzzy white leg warmers. A fairly recent pastime, her newfound adoption of the craft is, incidentally, in line with the ethos of her new album Sleep Paralysis, which exists as an exercise in creative catharsis and embracing her inner child. Amid a peculiar, hollow era for the music industry, she says the simplicity of crochet has brought her peace. “It’s been so refreshing,” she says with a knowing smile, while looping creamy-coloured yarn between her fingers, “I’ve made so many mistakes trying to monetise my hobbies.”

Since her 2020 debut album Muthaland, Bbymutha’s life has changed immensely. She moved from her native Chattanooga, Tennessee to Atlanta, signed her first record deal, lost her creative drive amid personal catastrophe and rediscovered it again on European dancefloors, all while raising the four children responsible for her rap moniker.

This plethora of experiences manifest in the form of Sleep Paralysis, her second full-length album that takes inspiration from her own childhood while simultaneously capturing the carefree euphoria of the club. Yet despite the energy and optimism that permeates the record’s expansive sonic palette of drum’n’bass, dancehall and distinctively Southern rap, it was the product of a creative rut, when the demise of a business she started during the pandemic triggered a series of traumatic events. 

“The house that I was living in had black mould, So we really couldn’t stay there. Then I got evicted from my shop because the landlord was sub-leasing the space to me, he didn’t tell me and he got kicked out, so I got kicked out. Now I‘m hotel hopping. I was homeless. I have four kids, I can't live like that,” Bbymutha recalls, now settled in her new home in Atlanta. “I was getting ready to go on tour in Europe. And I was like, okay, while I’m on tour I‘m gonna make the album. And when I come back from Europe, I’m gonna spend a week in Atlanta and house hunt and I'm gonna find me a house.”

Following the release of her acclaimed EP Glow Kit in 2016, Bbymutha’s ear for captivating beats and eclectic use of sampling has garnered a cult following (including Bjork, who played ‘Rules’ to open a live set in 2017). Defined by her witty humour and the authoritative, sex-positive musings that punctuate her lyricism, her music is saturated with an unmistakable sense of unadulterated freedom. This time around though, the stakes were higher than ever.

“[Sleep Paralysis] was inspired by me being in such a low place in my life that I didn't have a choice but to go back to my inner child to find inspiration. I actually was so broken, that I had to dig so deep into myself and pull the album out of my ass basically,” she tells Dazed.

What emerged, in spite of the bleakness of its environment, is a collection of her most energetic, joyful songs to date, existing as a technicolour ode to the London clubs where her relationship with her inner child deepened, underscored by the patchwork of genres that collide on the capital’s dancefloors.    

Hailing from Chattanooga Tennesee, UK club culture – specifically the popularity of garage and jungle music – surprised Bbymutha. “It just reminded me of my childhood playing SSX Tricky and Sonic the Hedgehog. They all had jungle music, so I grew up thinking that was just video game music,” she says. “Then I went over to the UK, and they’re over there dancing to that shit in the club. I was like ‘you’re listening to this for real?’. And they were like ‘yeah this is where this came from!’.”

Reconnecting with the sounds that subconsciously defined her youth brought together part of a larger mosaic of long-lost childhood memories – emphasised by a fans’ discovery of an old YouTube channel filled with videos of a then-teenaged Bbymutha vlogging. “It made me cry. It made me break down and realise how much of my past I really just don’t remember,” she says, tearfully. Though the innocence of her own children has imbued her previous music in the form of their cultural references, this series of recollections conjured a desire to reconnect with own inner child for the first time. “My children keep me young. I know a lot about what the fuck is going on in the world because of them, but it was important for me to connect to my own youth,” she explains. “I can’t live through my kids. I still have a child inside of me that needs to be played with and celebrated.”

The recollection of these early digital memories also drew attention to the drastic evolution of the internet within her time as an artist. Once a promising creative outlet and a fertile environment for niche communities, since Bbymutha uploaded her first songs under the name ’Cindyy Kushh’ almost two decades ago, many corners of the internet have descended into chaos – transforming into cesspools of irritating discourse and hatred spewed from anonymous accounts. It's why, once candid and open online, Bbymutha’s X profile is now locked, with the words “i never wanna go viral” digitally inscribed in her bio. 

“Nobody’s trying to create superstars anymore, they just want viral stars and viral moments. That’s what scares me” – Bbymutha

Seeking to reach handfuls of dedicated fans rather than a seemingly infinite global audience is a stark contrast to the current industry-wide emphasis on orchestrating viral moments. But, it’s an attitude Bbymutha says is necessary to protect her art from being misconstrued. “I don’t have the patience for people who don’t understand where I’m coming from trying to tell me what to do with my shit,” she says. It’s also why, though this was her first release with a label, she admits it’s likely to be her last. “[The label] was really passionate about me being active on TikTok, and I simply don’t give a fuck,” she laughs. “In the words of the infamous Azealia Banks, ‘McDonald’s sells a lot of burgers. That does not mean they’re the pinnacle of cuisine and taste’.”

The encouragement from her label to seek fleeting viral fame speaks to a wider culture infiltrating the music industry right now, where virality is prized over artist development. It’s a practice that sets new acts up for failure, and has already seen a slew of, mostly female, viral rappers face immense criticism over their live performances or follow-up singles when flung into the spotlight without the chance to hone their craft. “I don’t think it's fair that this started happening during this era of female rap. It’s like every woman gets discredited even harder now,” Bbymutha points out. “[Labels] just want to make a quick little moment. Nobody’s trying to create superstars anymore, they just want viral stars and viral moments. That’s what scares me.”

Her disdain for these reductive industry practices, alongside her constant reevaluation of her place in rap today led her to hint that she would abandon music altogether around the release of her debut album. Yet, when mentioned today she just laughs it off. “I say that once a month, I just said it on the internet this time. I wish I never did because people took it so seriously. And I’m like ‘oh my god. I was upset!’ You ain’t never been with a man that makes you mad but then you’re back in his space?,” she says with an eye roll.

“That’s what it is, a relationship. Because this shit is hard. People don’t appreciate how hard it is. Everybody thinks you just pick up a microphone and do it. Like no, this is mentally taxing.” Yet Sleep Paralysis speaks for itself as a product of the magic that is Bbymutha, able to spin chaos into catharsis. It’s also why she concludes she’ll never actually quit making music - she simply can’t stop. This notion of being forever compelled to create is one she even briefly pauses her crochet project to carefully summarise with her signature, endlessly warm smile: “Music is my toxic boyfriend.”