As trains whistle by Willesden Junction station, a sleek black Range Rover with a gleaming exterior glides smoothly down the road. Sitting comfortably in the driver’s seat is British rapper and actor Bashy, also known as Ashley Thomas. As the vehicle approaches, you can see his gleeful smile, and head bopping to “Blessed“ – an anthem of gratitude and triumph on the album. It’s a Friday, and Bashy presents a euphoric demeanour when he hops out on the pavement to greet me. “Nice to see you again, my bro!” he says enthusiastically. Perhaps his jovial attitude is linked to his new album, Being Poor is Expensive, being released less than 12 hours before our meeting.

It’s been 15 years since Bashy dropped his last album, Catch Me If You Can. Since then he has enjoyed a successful career as an actor, starring in THEM, Great Expectations, Black Cake, The Night of, hit British series Top Boy, and Black Mirror, alongside an array of film appearances. His latest album is an 11-track political yet personal chronicle of Black male experience in Britain; it’s a story of home, hope, and finding oneself.

Raised around Harlesden, Kensal Green and Notting Hill, Bashy kicks off the tour of his childhood stomping grounds with the school he would be tutored at on weekends. “I was excelling in school, but I feel like the system has its flaws, and Steve McQueen explored that well in Small Axe,” Bashy says, referencing the director’s 2020 film documenting racial biases in British schools in the 20th century. “I remember watching that episode with my mum and burst into tears and said, ‘Rah, this is what happened to me,’” he continues.

Our discussion on school exclusion is suddenly cut short by a stop-and-search taking place right in front of the car. “This is every day in Harlesden, bro,” Bashy sighs.

Even though Bashy’s childhood neighbourhoods in west and northwest London hold a nostalgic, evocative feeling for him, what was once a bustling, tight-knit multicultural village for Bashy has now shifted to a hotspot of gentrification. What were traditional bakeries and stores are now filled with modern coffee shops such as Gail’s, dotted with young professionals and new families with strollers that embody this changing demographic.

Driving through Harlesden High Street, Bashy reminisces on attending Cardinal Hinsley High School. “The bus stop is still here,” he says, pointing at commuters lining up across the road. The slightly worn appearance of his secondary school is one of the few things gentrification hasn’t wiped away.

Despite the area changing daily, Bashy, at 39 years old, still carries with him the teachings he picked up in Catholic school. “It’s still within me; when I go to church, I get a certain feeling,” he says. But his beliefs have now been shaped beyond the teachings of his youth: “I’m not really into one religion. I grew up with a lot of Muslim brothers and saw how they operate, and you start to take on how they operate their feelings, cultures and words. I believe in a higher power”.

“On the album, there’s a song called ‘Lost in Dreams ft Roses Gabor’ and Dreams was a nightclub just back there”, Bashy continues, gesturing behind us. “It’s like a triple entendre; it’s like Lost in Dreams, the nightclub, and then lost in my dream of acting and making music. Many people were lost in different kinds of dreams”.

Throughout the album, Bashy’s experiences are recounted with depth, truth and integrity. “We just drove by Roundwood Park opposite my school, and on the album, I say ’Them fun fairs weren't fun affairs but were hard to ignore / Stand by the bumper cars and screw the other side till you’re bored / Physically or mentally, then back to Kensal Green’“, Bashy raps, quoting his lyrics on “Sweet Boys Turned Sour“, “everything about this area pours into the album”.

Kensal Green Library was once a revered sanctuary of quiet intellect and dusty tomes, no more than a four-minute walk from Bashy’s childhood home. Now, it too stands as a testament to the sweeping tides of gentrification. Over 120 libraries have been closed in London alone in the last ten years. “This used to be a library,” Bashy says, stopping his car next to a grand old building with stately pillars exuding a sense of historical divinity. The scene within tells a different story, however. “Upstairs is apartments, before they had the whole building,” Bashy says.

Moments later, we pull up to his childhood home. Bashy’s eyes are fixated on the house, which holds many memories. He taps on his driver seat window with one finger three times, pointing and examining how the house has slightly faded with traces of weather-worn brick. “When I lived here, the whole house was red. They haven’t changed the wall,” Bashy smiles, “I’m so thankful for my life; when I was growing up, so many people lost their lives at a young age, and I’m still here”.

“The people who the song is about, I hope they feel seen, and I hope they feel that I articulated our feelings about looking like us. For those who don’t look like us, I hope it gives an understanding of what we’ve experienced” – Bashy

The next stop on our tour through the scrapbook of Bashy’s childhood is in west London, each corner and street giving a snapshot of stories of his past and present. “I grew up in Westbourne Park, and this was my primary school,” Bashy recalls, pointing at Bayswater Children Centre. It was the heart of much political activism that took place from the 50s to the 70s. Just down the road, you can find a blue plaque commemorating Caribbean restaurant Mangrove, a vital Black history landmark founded by activist Frank Crichlow and located on the same site as the 1958 Notting Hill uprising, which became the impetus behind the creation of Notting Hill Carnival.

“When I’m saying on the album ‘It feels like it’s 1970 / I’m searching for moments of levity’, I’m saying that there’s not one lie told on this album,” he says. “There’s no embellishment. There’s no exaggeration. It’s my life. I really was on pirate radio; I really did grow up in west and northwest London. I really did see all these things.”

“How Black Men Lose Their Smile“ is a poignant track on the album, diving deep into the intricate layers of identity and struggle. In the song’s opening verse, Bashy paints vivid scenes from his youth, capturing the moments in which the carefree joy of childhood began to wane under the pressure of societal expectations and systemic adversity, something many who live in Britain have experienced. “The people who the song is about, I hope they feel seen, and I hope they feel that I articulated our feelings about looking like us,” Bashy says. “For those who don’t look like us, I hope it gives an understanding of what we’ve experienced and can feel empathetic towards that.”

Bashy’s previous album, Catch Me If You Can, was a snapshot of his era. Now, fast-forward to the present, Bashy looks back proudly at his evolution as an artist and actor. “I was a young man still trying to figure out my life and who I am as a person, and I was just trying to figure my way out of the hood,” he says. “Catch Me If You Can has elements of who I am, but I can hear the compromise. I’m not compromising on my art anymore, but maybe if I didn’t make my previous album as it is, I wouldn’t be able to make the album I created now.”

As an actor, Bashy’s process of selecting roles is as nuanced and thoughtful as his current music is, indicating his desire to tell meaningful stories. “Something that I haven’t tackled before is usually quite interesting to me when selecting roles,” he says. “Something that I know nothing about is good sometimes as I can get beneath the layers of the characters and see what the writer is trying to say about a particular story.”

Even though Bashy has recently been spending time in the booth, acting is his main priority now. “It’s always going to be acting for me, and if or when I have something to say [musically], and I feel strongly about a particular time or topic, then I will use it that way,” he says. While music remains a beloved memory, the world of acting is his passion and imagination, leading him into a future filled with endless possibilities that will reveal itself as time passes.

Bashy is a key speaker for the Big Team: Youth Exploitation – Road to Reform panel at this year’s FORWARDS Festival in Bristol.