fakemink: ‘I’m the Eminem of the UK underground”

This story is taken from the spring 2026 issue of Dazed, which is on sale internationally from March 5. Pre-order a copy of the magazine here.

I’m waiting for fakemink at a Mayfair sushi restaurant, the day after he cancelled our first scheduled interview at the last minute. Friends who’d met the Essex-born artist before described him as “cute” and “kind of innocent”, but, after almost an hour of hanging around, I privately swear I will not fall for his charms. So it really is despite my best efforts that I find myself immediately swept up in fakemink’s presence when he does finally show. He asks my name, shakes my hand, introduces himself as Enzo and, without sitting down, invites me outside for a cigarette. “I’m sorry, I was up making music till, like, 7 or 8am,” the 21-year-old says, rubbing his eyes between drags on a Marlboro Gold. “I didn’t get up till 5pm.”

It’s hard to imagine this is the same viral rapper who opened the door for the now-flourishing UK underground (UK Ug) rap scene, paving the way for peers including EsDeeKid, Feng and SINN6R, and who is now poised to release his sophomore album, Terrified. Online, the artist born Vincenzo Camille appears cocky: he titled his debut album, released in 2023 when he was just 18, London’s Saviour, and his Instagram presence almost exclusively consists of designer clothes, luxury meals and, occasionally, a flicker of Frank Ocean.

I search his mannerisms for any hint of conceit, an ego inflated by sudden fame, but all I find is a polite, if slightly awkward, young man. Apart from his signature overgrown skullet, fakemink’s appearance is generally unremarkable: average height, slight build, smart-casual clothes. He clearly struggles with eye contact. To the surprise of his publicist sitting next to us, he explains that he made the hour-long journey here from his home in Essex by public transport.

Fakemink does, however, know the restaurant’s menu like the back of his hand, rattling off recommendations including their signature tuna and natto bowl – a stringy, snot-like fermented bean dish considered an acquired taste even in Japan. “I’m super big on my health,” he explains, the sentiment running in stark contrast to his hedonistic, substance-laced lyrics. “Things like natto are especially good for digestion. Also, drinking warm water, because cold water disturbs the microbes in your gut.” He looks up from the menu, raising one hand in a cartoonish “eureka” gesture. “Maturing is being able to drink warm water,” he declares to everyone and no one in particular.

We speak about his recent trip to Tokyo and the conversation quickly turns to Pokémon. “I was really, really into it,” fakemink tells me, pulling up a Pokémon fan page he created on Instagram when he was seven years old that “only the diehard fans” are allowed to know about. “This was around the time that Alpha Sapphire and Omega Ruby were being leaked, but my favourite game is Pokémon X…” Trailing off, he turns towards me and asks sheepishly, “Do you like Pokémon?” After determining that I, too, am a true fan (I’ve been playing consistently from an early age), he loosens up and challenges me to a game of browser-based battle simulator Pokémon Showdown (gen 9 randoms, for those that know). Sadly, the challenge is forgotten as the evening takes its course and we move on to discuss fakemink’s many other passions.

Still, obsessive Pokémon love is exactly what you would expect from the paragon of UK Ug – being terminally online gen Z kids is about the only thing that ties the scene together. Influences are disparate, even incongruent, from EsDeeKid’s abrasive scouse rap and Feng’s early 2010s pop nostalgia to SINN6R’s so-called “emo drill” and Zukovstheworld’s digital indie rock – the list goes on.

“I’m super big on my health. Things like natto are especially good for digestion. Also, drinking warm water, because cold water disturbs the microbes in your gut”

Fakemink, meanwhile, oscillates between Nujabes-esque lo-fi hip hop, slack-jawed cloud rap and hints of hyperactive Japanese nightcore. He tells me that he started producing when he was just ten years old, and it’s clear the music software FruityLoops is the only instrument he’s ever known. With it, mink sports a sort of musical rule-bending that comes naturally to a child of the internet – frequently pitch-shifting, speeding up and even reversing vocal takes across his prolific discography. (In 2024 alone, fakemink uploaded 80 tracks to Spotify.)

“I got a laptop for my birthday [from my dad],” says the artist of his entry into music, “and I found a copy of FruityLoops 11 on the hard drive that I ended up using for years. My dad was a drum & bass DJ – he used to play at Hippodrome when it was a club – so maybe he was [planning to make music]. But I don’t think so.” It was also his father who inspired mink’s love of rap music, having made a habit of playing hip hop and dancehall classics during regular drives to visit his grandparents in Ilford.

Far from the “London saviour” he would later declare himself to be, though, fakemink says he was initially “quite bad” at music. “I was just doing it as a hobby, I never thought it was something to ‘win’ at,” he says. “Honestly, if I’d known it was my true calling, I probably would have been more vocal about it. I never told my parents I wanted to do music, because I didn’t want there to be even a chance for them to shut me down. I would post songs on SoundCloud and people at school would see them, but I don’t think they believed in me. It was only in 2019, 2020 that I thought, ‘Oh, I’m actually pretty good at producing, let me home in on it.’” 

These releases, uploaded under mink’s former moniker 9090gate, have been unearthed since his recent virality. “I was 14 when I made that name, my frontal lobe was still developing,” he explains. “I think I got it from this 90s cult called Heaven’s Gate. They thought that when the Hale-Bopp comet passed Earth there would be a ship that took them to heaven. So, all the members dressed in the same uniform and drank poison. I saw it and thought, ‘Oh, that’s a cool word.’ Before that, my name was Gate Visions or something. But it’s meaningless, really.”

“I only changed my name to fakemink in April 2024, about five months after London’s Saviour came out,” he continues, suddenly pausing and looking at my voice recorder. “Wait, this is recording, right? OK, so, if anyone is listening and they have a name which has a bunch of numbers in it or it doesn’t roll off the tongue, change that shit right now. More people judge books by their covers than they like to admit.” Having started our interview by describing his favourite Pokémon, it’s striking to see mink position himself as a mentor to his listeners, almost as if I am watching his own evolution play out in real time.

This maturity is partly born of necessity: nowadays, fakemink finds his every move scrutinised by countless fan pages across the internet, many of whom are ready to turn on him at the drop of a hat. “I would have never have guessed life would be this stressful,” he says. “I’ve felt people’s jealousy more than ever recently, and I’m talking about people I never would have thought would be jealous. I was oblivious; I didn’t feel like my success was anyone’s loss. If I lose and you’re my enemy, that doesn’t make you any more successful: that just makes me a loser.” Without prompting, he brings up the recent criticism he’s faced for branding himself as an “artist” and not a “rapper”. “That doesn’t mean I’m denouncing rap or that I’m denouncing other people’s rap, it just means my rap is the best art. I’m a rapper more than anything. That is my artform.” 

“I know it’s bold to say ‘London’s saviour’, living in Essex, but I’m still waiting for someone to challenge it. No one has”

“I made London’s Saviour in three days, but no one seems to believe that,” he continues. “I know it’s bold to say ‘London’s saviour’, living in Essex, but I’m still waiting for someone to challenge it. No one has. I actually was London’s saviour, because I opened people’s eyes [to the UK Ug scene]. Sometimes, I really feel like the Eminem of the UK underground, because I’m so much better than these man and they can’t face it.” I suggest that social media has played a central role in the rise of UK Ug. It’s a trend I’ve observed more widely writing about the scene: today’s up-and-comers are used to controlling every aspect of their online presence, and consequently signing off some creative agency to interviewers like me seems less appealing or even anxiety-inducing. Fakemink agrees: “Social media is really just a lie; everyone’s just sharing their best highlights. But, if that’s the case, then I’ll use it to my advantage. I’m going to design how I’m portrayed on social media to the point that I’m a superstar.”

I ask if all these public pressures have played a role in the title of his new album. Instead, he tries to describe the project. He turns to me: “How would you describe London’s Saviour? I don’t even know how.” I suggest lo-fi hip hop. “OK, so if London’s Saviour is lo-fi hip hop, then Terrified is lo-fi hip hop if it was played on the radio.” Suddenly taken by another idea, mink whips out his phone for the umpteenth time and offers to play me some of the record. He’s clearly excited, barely breaking his gaze on the device as he pairs my AirPods and plays me snippets of five new tracks, all the while chainsmoking cigarettes.

From that brief listen, at least, fakemink’s summary of the album rings true. The classic mink hallmarks are present and correct: distorted production, pitch-shifted vocals, frequent BPM changes. But there is also a surprising sonic maturity: clear melody lines, catchy choruses, even a bit of singing. One line in particular jumps out at me: “We’re terrified but we’re not scared.” What does terrified mean, then? “Terrified is when you’re [afraid], but you know exactly what is happening and why,” he replies. “‘Scared’ is being confused. Things are scary right now, but I’m far from confused. It’s like if Jason from Friday the 13th was coming at you with a knife – you’d be scared. But if you had a gun, you’d also have hope that you were going to win.” I ask if he knew who the killer was. Fakemink pauses. “It’s me,” he says flatly, and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

When he returns, he announces that he’d like to go shopping at Selfridges and suggests we continue our interview there. As the bill is settled, he places his phone, Notes app open, into my hands. “This is the Terrified story. It’s going to be published in a small magazine with the album,” he says, adding that the goal was to convert the narrative into “catchy, radio-ready songs”. “[About] 80 per cent of it was written by my friend, GhostInnaFurCoat. Once people read this, they’ll get an insanely bigger understanding of me.” Replete with accidental capital letters and sporadic line breaks, the Notes app novella has clearly been typed out hastily, but it’s haunting nonetheless. It’s sort of like JD Salinger meets Stephen King, depicting a young man locked in a hotel room with a love interest whose presence is both seductive and threatening. Halfway through reading, I glance up to find that fakemink has already left the table and started making his way towards Oxford Street. I jog to catch up, wondering what would happen if his precious phone were to get snatched in the interim. He seems to have forgotten all about it.

Weaving through shoppers and eventually ducking into Selfridges’ brightly-lit Dior storefront, he continues to unpack the album: “I did the boxing ring show [at All Stars Boxing Gym in north London], and then I went on a mini-tour between August and November [of 2025]. The whole album is about my life in London, Toronto, New York and LA. I was staying at this hotel called Chateau Marmont [whose storied rooms have hosted everyone from Marilyn Monroe to Britney Spears] in LA, but this haunted girl was the only ghost I was looking at. In the Bible, hell is never described as this fiery place, it’s just somewhere that God isn’t. For me, hell is this beautiful, cold mansion in LA, far from home. Heaven is my house in Essex. It’s quiet, my family are there, there’s no one to bother me.”

“Heaven is my house in Essex. It’s quiet, my family are there, there’s no one to bother me”

Inside the department store, mink makes a beeline for Tom Ford. It feels like the sushi menu all over again as he speeds across the sales floor, reflecting on how he used to window-shop here as a teenager. “Being able to actually buy things now is the best feeling.” He tries on a few plain, smart-casual tops – silk, only silk – before settling on a cream polo that costs £1,200. “Enzo, is it?” the clerk asks as mink enters his login details to collect points at the till. As we exit the store, mink muses, “I don’t regret spending that much, but I also do.”

Lighting up a final cigarette outside, fakemink is recognised for the first time. He’s beset by three handshakes in quick succession as a trio of teenage boys begin showing off a recent haul. “What do you think? I’ve just bought them!” one asks, pointing to the moss-coloured, oversized moon boots he’s wearing. Fakemink looks unimpressed, prompting cries of anguish from the group, before quickly snapping into his burgeoning role-model persona once more. “But that’s you, bro! Don’t change it!” Together, they pose for a picture as mink’s manager motions that it’s time to leave. I manage to get one last question in: what’s your favourite Pokémon? fakemink mulls it over, and then responds with a child-like grin. “Mew, because he’s a baby and he’s powerful.” That seems about right.

This story is taken from the spring 2026 issue of Dazed, which is on sale internationally from March 5. Pre-order a copy of the magazine here.

Hair Rachel Lee at MA+ Group using Hair by Sam McKnight, make-up Lauren Parsons at Art Partner, nails Sabrina Gayle at Arch the Agency using Chanel, models Brixton Key, Gabrielle Mooney, Isabella Sina, Jack Lloyd, Linda Malcolm, Roxanne Rose Presley, Shania Steele, Victoria Easlea, set design Jack Appleyard at The Magnet Agency, lighting Vasilis Kalegias, photographic assistants Sam Khoury, Daiki Tajima, styling assistants Darlene Park, Moni Jiang, Emily Jones, Sam Perring, Malcom D Costa, hair assistants James Tarquin, Peter Cheng, make-up assistants Lara Weidmann, Shani Mushington, nails assistant Annie Kilalea, set design assistant Billie Browne, production Mica Kossakowska at CEBE Studio, production assistants Phoebe Bunje, Lucy Taylor, Harvey Watt, post-production Dtouch, casting Good Catch At New School Represents