“Nothing in this world brand new, everything come second hand,” says Ghanaian rapper M.anifest on the closing track of his fourth studio album, New Road and Guava Trees. It’s a metaphor that embodies the multiple full-circle moments that underpin the project. From being co-signed (and signed) by the US hip-hop greats he grew up admiring, to watching the hip-hop scene in his hometown of Accra go from imitators to innovators, the album is a proud moment for M.anifest – and it shows.

M.anifest joins the call from a taxi, the blistering Accra sunshine turned pink by the tinted windows behind him. He explains that it’s been a hectic day – he needed to make a deposit at the bank but had missed the closing time. “Luckily, I know people who know people so they’re going to make it work,” he says, with a grin. Moments later, the taxi pulls up and, still on FaceTime, M.anifest greets the tellers with a big hug. Despite the obvious inconvenience, the interaction is full of warmth and he completes his deposit without a hitch. “See, this is why the so-called ‘Third World’ is a beautiful place,” M.anifest tells me as he climbs back into the taxi. “There’s nowhere in America or England that would let you do that.”

Despite this evident pride for his country, back when M.anifest started rapping as a teenager in the late 90s, it was the American OGs that formed his mentors. The likes of Tupac, KRS One and the Fugees found their way onto AM Ghanaian radio (this was before FM had reached Accra), and M.anifest and his friends were enthralled. But it wasn’t until M.anifest went to college in the US that he finally got his chance to record, building an improvised studio setup in his friend’s college dorm. “I probably recorded like 300 days of the year, I was down there every day,” M.anifest explains of the next few years he spent relentlessly honing his craft. Eventually, he was picked up for a global tour with music nonprofit Africa Express and there he was spotted by Damien Albarn, who invited him to record alongside supergroup Rocket Juice & The Moon, consisting of Albarn, Flea and Tony Allen. 

Still, it was with this latest project that one of the proudest moments in M.anifest’s career arrived. With New Road and Guava Trees releasing on iconic US hip-hop label Mass Appeal today, he now rubs shoulder-to-shoulder with the likes of Nas, J Dilla and Run the Jewels. And, although his deft lyricism pays homage to the American labelmates he grew up admiring, sonically the project calls back to the unique journey he took to get there. There are the sun-drenched guitar lines of Ghanaian highlife music, chugging afrobeats percussion and sprinklings of Twi slang innovating on Mass Appeal’s classic boom bap formula.  

Now driving through the streets of Accra, M.anifest tells me how the local hip-hop scene is worlds away from those early days of struggling to make a sample. “It's amazing, people are making the most phenomenal things in the corners of Accra,” he beams. “Sometimes people need to go through a process of self-actualisation. They love this hip hop thing, they watch these videos from wherever and, yeah parts of it will be imitation [in the beginning]. I feel like it’s another full circle moment.” Everything comes second hand, indeed. 

Below, M.anifest breaks down his fourth studio album, New Road and Guava Trees.

So, New Road and Guava Trees is a mix of full-circle moments and new beginnings, right?

M.anifest: Yeah, working on this album, I reconnected with my producer homie Budo, who I worked on an album with 14 years ago. He's from Seattle and I remember the first beat he made me was something that I’d sampled from Fela Kuti years ago. I was like, ‘Who’s this random white, Jewish guy in Illinois who really gets this thing and is making hip-hop sampling Fela Kuti?’ I also worked with some of my other producers from Ghana on the project, but just having an anchor of somebody else who’s bringing his own, different flavour to us, was super dope. 

Most of the project is in English, too. Is that a conscious choice?

M.anifest: It’s not as much conscious as it was instinctive. It came about partly because of a few reasons. Number one, we all begin by mimicking. When I began, I was mimicking before I found my own right voice. Obviously, what I was listening to was a lot in English. Then, the Twi and Pidgin raps came. But, also, this is just how I communicate. I’m a very worldly person, and I communicate with other Africans in English and Pidgin, you know? It’s just how I talk every day. It’s not a contrived thing, like, ‘I want a lot of people in many places to understand what I’m saying.’ There are songs where English isn’t the primary language, too.

I was curious, on “Eyes Red”, you have this phrase ‘ahjay’. What does it mean? 

M.anifest: [Laughs] That’s a sound that’s used in many different ways, like when someone is in pain. You know, Africans, and especially Ghanaians and Nigerians, are notorious for making sounds that aren’t words, but everyone understands. So, ‘ahjay’ is one of those things. It's an exclamation of something that shows that something is causing you some kind of pain. But even how you say it even determines what sort of pain you’re in. So this one [on “Eyes Red”] is more of a cry of desperation. It's not like a physical pain. We probably have a zillion of these sounds in our language.

It’s also crazy to see Flea on the album. How did that come about?

M.anifest: I was in a studio in London, doing a session for the project that Damien Albarn, Flea and Tony Allen were working on. This was in the early 2010s. I was on five songs on that project, we did a couple of shows together and we’ve been loosely linked since. Flea’s a dope human. So, when I was in LA recording the album, I hit him up. He was generous enough to invite me to his home. I was playing him some of the music and he was talking about how he's taking up the trumpet again. So, it just happened organically, he was feeling the music and I was like, ‘Yeah, hop on.’  It’s crazy, my life seems like a series of random but intentional things. 

Going back to those early days of you rapping, do you think nowadays it's easier for artists to make rap music in Accra?

M.anifest: Oh, hell yeah! Nowadays it's easier for them to make any kind of music. People are making some of the most phenomenal things in, corners in Accra. Some of us came up on the precipice of when technology was really becoming a thing and so much was changing. Right now, the idea of actually being in a huge studio is left for like the final stages of your work. People can make a whole guitar solo in their home without picking up a guitar. I love this democratisation of the ability to create.

When I started recording myself years ago, YouTube was not even more than a decade old yet. Now, people learn to do a lot with a little. They can even go on YouTube and start rapping to, say, M.anifest type beats! 

Totally. I remember being really plugged into the Kumerican [Kumasi drill] scene a couple of years ago.

M.anifest: Absolutely. They’re not even in Accra! Even so far from the centre, they were, for me, the thing that has rejuvenated hip hop in Ghana in the last five or whatever years. Virgil was very tapped in with them before they blew up. You know, they did the kind of mimicking thing, but also doing it with different intonations and languages. They even had these white producers from the UK sending them beats. It's just wild. I actually recorded with O’Kenneth, one of my favourite guys out there for the album. We didn't make it, but who knows, maybe for the Deluxe…

I really love those cats, man. Other people are criticising them while they’re copying [drill], but I’m like, yo, people sometimes need to go through a process of self-actualisation. They love this hip-hop thing, they watch these videos from wherever. Yeah, parts of it will be imitation, but, as older people, sometimes you help guide instead of just criticising so loudly. Sometimes quiet guidance is better than loud criticism. 

Is that how you see your role now?

M.anifest: [Laughs] In some ways, I guess so. 

New Road and Guava Trees is out now