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Image by Ben Solomon
Long before flamethrowers illuminated his face, Allan Kingdom tinkered away in his bedroom. He came of age beneath the towering trees of the Minnesotan wilderness, working since his eighth birthday to construct a blend of styles and sounds unlike any other—delicate, moonlit arrangements with a sense of mystique. His output of recent years projects a message to those willing to lend an ear: genuine interaction and self-belief go a long way.
Kingdom approached a zenith previously untouched by his contemporaries when he stood beside Kanye West to deliver a riveting performance of “All Day” at the 2015 BRITs. The record netted Allan, just 22 years old, a pair of Grammy nominations, and public interest in the charmingly idiosyncratic artist skyrocketed.
As his star grew and his skills improved, he remained steadfast in pursuit of a vision dealing with the bigger picture—community, kindness, self-esteem. Behind that vision and the sounds serving as its vessel are an assortment of people, places, and things vital to its existence. Those pieces help paint a clearer picture of one of music’s most promising young acts.
Kingdom took the time to speak with us and detail his 2015 ascension, recognizing the building blocks and puzzle pieces that made it all possible. From the stories behind the newly released Northern Lights to the forest’s importance in his life, from his first studio rendezvous with Kanye West to his evolving relationship with Plain Pat and DJ Khaled, Kingdom openly shared his thoughts, tales, and vision.
Appreciate you taking the time to do this, man. I’m sure you’ve been overloaded since Northern Lights.
[Laughs] I just got some good sleep for the first time last night. It’s been crazy because I had the release and I was up all night off of excitement, just from people messing with it. And then I had my birthday party on the 8th, and that was wild. And then I had a show in Chicago on the 9th and I had to be out at 9 a.m. I’ve just been going.
It’s 2009, you’re 15 years old. The alarm goes off, you wake up and get ready for high school. Now it’s 2016, you’re a Grammy-nominated artist with major work under your belt and the alarm goes off. What’s different between what got you out of bed then versus now?
That’s a good question. I think it hasn’t changed, though, which is the weird thing, because when I got out of bed as a 15 year old going to school, it was just the fact that I was alive and able to always pursue more, reach for more, and want more than I already had. Even now, being Grammy-nominated or something, as soon as you accomplish something it’s like normal life.
If you really level up—maybe start wearing nicer clothes or driving better cars—at first it’s really cool, and I haven’t even gotten there yet! But after a while it just becomes regular life. The new people you talk to, the new clothes you wear, the new cars you drive. And, like, that’s kind of how it is now. Coming up and being able to have a certain amount of fans or having a certain amount of respect, as an artist you always just want more. You always want to relate to more people, so it’s almost like the same thing. I’ll wake up and never be 100 percent satisfied with myself, and that’s my drive.
In just about every project you’ve dropped, going back to your Heart Gang work, you always mention “the mission.” Is there something concrete behind that? Does it change?
For me—and maybe it’s the family I was given—but I just always felt like I could never let anything bring me down, you know what I mean? I just want to share that feeling with the world. And like I said, I don’t know if I’m ever going to be 100 percent like, “Oh yeah, I met my goal!” But I just feel like it would be dope to see people be a little bit happier.
I don’t know when it became cool to be angry all the time. I want to see people become warmer, that’s really it. I know that as one person I can’t completely change the world, I can’t be like Superman, but I just try to set little goals for myself that, in my lifetime, are things I’d like to see be different. I feel like if everyone did that things would get better. If everyone said, “Okay, I can’t do everything, but I can do this one little thing.” Just tell people to feel better about their day, to feel better about themselves. Don’t feel weird for being who you are.
Of the things you would like to see change, in addition to seeing more people with a positive mindset, is there a specific cause you’d want to rally support for?
Oh, definitely. There’s a lot, because of my mom’s background, my family’s background. I’ve been able to look at two extremes, almost, as a human being who’s been in New York City and also been in the Serengeti. Like, blood ties—most of my family is still there. Just that alone gives me the perspective of where somebody can reach in their lifetime, the distance someone can travel between being born and being dead.
When I do something charitable, I think it will be for those people in those extremes who feel like they can’t get out, or feel like they won’t ever see anything else besides their surroundings. Whether it be in East Africa, or Atlanta, or the south side of Chicago. I feel like there’s a group of people on earth who will never get that message if someone doesn’t go out and give it to them, if someone doesn’t go out there and help them and say, “Yo, you can do this.” Even seeing how far my mother has gone, from the village. My grandpa was actually the first person in our village to ever send his daughters to school.
That’s incredible.
Yeah, for generations, women in my village didn’t go to school. They just stayed at home and cooked and got married and had kids, like, early on, from 14 years old.My grandfather changed all that. He was like, “No, I want all of my kids to get out of here.” And it worked, and now everyone does that and sends their kids to school. The laws have now changed in the country where you have to send your daughters to school, but my grandfather was one of the first to do that. Just having those things in my family that I can look up to as an example, showing people a new way to make a better situation for themselves. I feel like that’s what I’m here for.
What role did your mom play in developing that quest for inner peace, the desire to do something positive?
I think she instilled that in a lot of literal ways, like on purpose. I remember when I was younger she used to play motivational CDs all the time [Laughs]. We’d be in the car on long trips, driving through the woods and stuff, and she’d just play pastors, preachers, motivational CDs—that’s all she’d play around me, except for like, pop music and African music. She didn’t even believe in me in the first place. Yes, she wanted me to do well, but she didn’t believe in what I was doing.
I didn’t have anybody around me, early on, as far as an older figure, who was like, “Yeah, you can really do this music shit. This is really for you.” I had to motivate myself to do that.But she motivated me without even knowing it. She was completely real and honest in telling me I couldn’t do it. That drove me, and that in itself is something I’ll never take for granted. The thing is, she never thought I was going to be a loser. She always knew I was going to do something, she just really didn’t believe it would be music. But it was.
Is there anyone people might not know about who is similarly important? Ben Hughes and Checho have known you a long time.
Oh yeah, definitely. Oh man, the thing is, people like Ben Hughes, you work with them during a very special time in your career. I feel like Ben Hughes was there so early on that—you know how you have best friends you don’t need to talk to all the time? That’s kinda like what Ben and Checho are to me. They know a side of me from when I was so young. We’re so close and when we see each other it’s always love. We don’t talk all the time but it’s like, I feel like they’re some of the people who know the most about me.
My uncle, his name’s January, he’s also been an amazing support to me. My band members who I started doing shows with in the city, too. And Checho was in the band, and Ben would come shoot. We’d talk all the time about where we saw things going. My bass player, Decarlo and my homie Vante—they’re brothers, Decarlo and Vante Jackson. I just have this team around me of very supportive people. No matter what kind of crazy idea I have, nobody ever looks at my weird. Having a team of people who believes you can do that is really important.
I don’t know when it became cool to be angry all the time. I want to see people become warmer, that’s really it.
You have another team in Kaslow and Plain Pat. How would you describe your relationship with Kas? How do you collectively go about determining a strategy for the music?
It’s always a music-first mindset. Working with Kaslow and Pat, their main concern is that I’m in the most comfortable position to make the best music I can. The number one thing is to make sure we have good shit. That’s the first thing. If that’s not right, we won’t concentrate on merch, or my image, or my design, we’re going to concentrate on the music. Once we do that, it’s just—it’s weird because they have so much more experience than I do, just having knowledge and being in the game. They have that.
I’m the type of person where I just go with the wind. Like, “I feel like dropping this today, let’s drop this today.” I’m a little bit unstructured. So having all of these different minds together makes something special, putting strategy together with the right vibes and the right timing.
I talk to Kaslow everyday. He’s almost like a family member—he is a family member at this point. Him and Pat. But I talk to Kaslow every single day. He knows everything I plan on doing. I don’t think there’s anything I plan on doing that he doesn’t know about. Every time I have an idea for what I want to do—like I said, I’m very whimsical. I’m like Willy Wonka, I just come up with ideas [Laughs]. I don’t think about how they’re going to get done. I just have ideas—“Let’s do this, let’s do this.” But when I talk to Kaslow and Pat, they’re like, “Okay, if we’re gonna do that, what are the cons and what are the benefits, how long would it take, what resources do we have, and what steps do we need to take to achieve that goal.” That’s really key for me.
I can think of ideas all day, but doing the ones that are most important is another thing. Asking if these things are going to help me reach my end goal. They help keep me on track.
You have this line from “The Dwelling,” “Plain Pat flew me out to New York, that’s my idol / Almost went broke tryna catch a taxi on arrival.” Was there this humanizing moment where Plain Pat transitioned from an idol to a really close friend for you?
Yeah, definitely. Me originally meeting Pat was in a studio setting in New York, and he was still, like, Plain Pat. You know what I mean? And he still is, but the first time I knew he was real is when he flew out to Minnesota. He just hung out with me and all of my friends. He just wanted to hang out. He wasn’t trying to do anything else but kick it, and that was the coolest thing to me.
I think it’s those types of connections that make something special, that make a special movement. It’s not like these business plots about who to connect with. It’s just these bonds that fuel you and make you feel like you can do anything. And then I did the next thing, and the next thing. And they’re very aware of that, Pat and Kaslow.
As managers, even, I know they let me forge my own path. I don’t want to say struggle, but I’ve never been handed everything. And I very well could have. I’ve met people who have the resources to do that. But it’s almost like the universe is pushing me to see what I can bring out of myself, seeing what I can do on my own with my own mind.
That’s how all of my videos have gotten shot. All of my photo shoots, all of the studio sessions have been off love. I didn’t have an investor or anything. I was in the red, it was zero budget. Now things are paying off. When you take short cuts, you pay for it later.
When Plain Pat went to visit you, what did that do for your creative relationship? The North, and how you present it, almost has this mystical quality. Was he able to better understand that, your style and sound?
When he came out, I remember he was like, “Oh, that’s why your music sounds like this.” [Laughs] He had never been out there. I remember when Kaslow came out, too. There’s restaurants in the middle of residential areas—St. Paul is a pretty weird city, just how it’s laid out. He was like, “That’s why your music is so fucking bugged out. This place is just so weird. I’ve never been to a place like this.” Seeing who are the people I’m hanging out with who are causing me to walk and dress and talk and act like this. Seeing where someone’s from really helps.
That’s why traveling is such an eye-opener, going to different countries. Seeing somebody here, like seeing an African or Asian immigrant in the U.S., is way different than going to Asia or going to Africa or going to the country and seeing why it is that way. Everything makes more sense, like, “Oh, now I get it.” Even if it’s bad. If you have a friend who’s kind of fucked up, you might go to their household and be like, “Damn, I see why you’re like this.”
Is there a place that was crucial in developing a small music community back home, or a place you’d go to clear your mind?
Definitely uptown Minneapolis, back in the day. Now it’s a bunch of high-end condos and stuff, restaurants and bars. But when I was coming up it was an artist community. Dirty, hippie artists, where kids went to parties to get loose. House parties, the kind of place where seven or eight kids would move together. People just grinding it out in the middle of Minnesota, in the middle of the forest, basically. And that was instrumental. Being there every day, being around different artists and painters. People would open boutiques and shops. I met everybody during that time, I shook hands with a lot of people during that time. It’s home. I would take walks by myself, through the woods. Besides that, I’d be in my room.
What’s the importance of the forest to you?
When I was younger, I always liked movies like Tarzan, even though it’s not really the forest, but I always felt this connection to nature. Just being an outcast, being away. When I was younger, like a little boy, I’d always say, “If I ever run away, I’ll just run away to the forest. I’ll live in the forest.” I’ve always been into it, maybe because I grew up around here as well. The forest gave me my time by myself to think about what I wanted to do. I guess it’s like, if you grow up by the ocean you’re always going to love the ocean, you know?
You wrote a lot of Future Memoirs in Los Angeles, you did much of The Stand4rd record in Toronto. I’m assuming Talk to Strangers was back home. Could you set the scene for the creation of Northern Lights?
Northern Lights is the same as the others in that it’s true to the environment I was in, but it’s different because that was everywhere. It was a time where all of my movements were sporadic. I was in this city and then that city and then “All Day” came out. I had some songs from before that—some of those ideas came before the BRIT Awards. And it’s pretty wild because some of those songs were prophetic. Some of that stuff hadn’t happened, and then the year unfolded.
Before, in 2014, I had a project ready that I was going to drop in 2015. But as an artist, when certain things happen and the world moves a certain way, you have to go with that energy. You need to realize when to say what. When you want to put out a project and then things change in society, you feel like, “Okay, that’s something I want to speak on. Maybe this song isn’t right for this time.” So this whole year, I’ve just been traveling. I made all of the tracks in different places with different producers, and I feel like that’s kind of a symbol for me. I come from different places and different backgrounds, there’s different parts of me but they all come together to make one thing. It’s kind of like my shirt on the cover. I feel like the songs, and me, and that shirt, they all symbolize the same thing. Different things coming together.
An assembly of colors.
Yeah, yeah, because those songs came together so randomly [Laughs]. I didn’t sit down and say, “I want a Chronixx collab, a D.R.A.M. collab, Swizzy Mack on a beat.” I didn’t do that. I just made music, and everything that fit together was put together. It was like a puzzle.
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Photo by Ben Solomon
What’s the story behind the creation of “Fables”? That’s a song that really stood out to me.
“Fables” I made with Rex Kudo in LA, and it was crazy because of the story behind it. I thought I had Post Malone’s number, but I had Rex’s number. And so I was texting Post Malone for months, right? But I wasn’t actually texting Post Malone for months. I get to the studio, long story short, and the whole time we’re making this song. I meet Rex and we click, instantly. I start showing him some of the stuff that made Northern Lights, he showed me Post’s album and everything. I ask where Post’s at, and Rex goes, “Oh, he’s in the city.” In my head, this whole time I’m like, “Oh he’s gonna come by, we’re gonna collab.” So me and Rex just start working on music. [Co-producers] Leon Thomas is there, Charles Handsome is there, and Mars, this girl named Mars who’s a singer, and a couple other people I might be forgetting.
We all start working on this song. I go in the booth and start freestyling, get a good hook for “Fables,” just working on the song [Laughs]. All this time I’m expecting Post to walk in the door. We make this whole song, and, at the end of it, I give Rex my phone, and he goes, “You have me saved in here as Post” [Laughs]. A couple hours later, the real Post texts me like, “Yoooooo! What’s up it’s Post! I heard you stopped by the studio.” I was like, “Yeah, I thought I knew you but I don’t” [Laughs]. Then we got Chronixx, Kaslow’s cool with his people because he’s got ties in Jamaica. Everything was the right fit.
Did you find yourself improving in ways you hadn’t before when you were making Northern Lights?
I feel like with this project I’ve been thinking about song concepts more easily, and for me that’s the main thing that gives me inspiration to write a song. Once I know what a song’s about I can write it, that’s not a problem. Once I have the melody and the topic. I feel like I’ve been drawing from real world experiences more, even just sitting in the studio and having a conversation with someone and seeing that inspire a song. I’ve just been way less stressed when I make music these days.
I don’t try to snap. I don’t want to say I don’t try to be the best, because I try to be the best I can be. But my goal isn’t to stunt. I just want to express myself. And that’s been getting easier and easier.
On the Future Memoirs song “Context,” you unlocked a piece of your allure with the line, “If you take me out of context, I know you won’t appreciate my words.” Your music isn’t always accessible from the jump, like an acquired taste, but something clicks—it might take a couple plays or a few months. What do you think it is about you that creates this effect?
I’ve heard that about my personality first. When I was in school, people would be like, “Yo, I didn’t know about you at first but you’re a cool person.” And we’d become friends. I had a hard time making friends in school, you know? I moved around a lot. I feel like that maybe has something to do with why I’m not immediately accessible, maybe it’s a protection of some type. Maybe that translates over creatively. When I first meet with people in real life, it’s not like they love me right away. Before any of this, I wasn’t a popular kid in school or anything. I was class clown, maybe.
People would be around me, and maybe they’d like the way I talk. Maybe some kids will start using some of the words I use. And at first they didn’t like how I dressed, but now they might wear some of the clothes I rock, some of the brands I wear. I think your music is a reflection of you, so that probably translates into my music.
Do you feel like there’s a sense of community among the next wave of rising artists? Everyone seems so connected now more than ever before, it feels like a movement instead of a bunch of separate artists blowing up on their own, from people like Kevin Abstract to Cousin Stizz to Tyler Mitchell.
I think so. And I think the community is only going to grow. I feel like this is the game now, it’s more than a community. Obviously, there’s different tiers and levels of a career as a musician, but like you said, like the like-minded individuals you named, those are people who are doing nothing but progressing. I like to think in the future. So to me, if a group of people is doing nothing but progressing, that’s the game [Laughs]. I want there to be a sense of community. When I got into it and realized how many people are jaded and cold and fight with each other, or view each other as a threat. It is competitive at the end of the day. But if I’m truly confident in my art, in myself, in my unique message that I have to give the world as an artist, nobody can stop that.
There’s always going to be somebody that’s hot. When I’m 30, 35, it’s going to be a new kid who’s hot that’s 17, 16, making beats on his whatever [Laughs]. But as long as I know the message I have is delivered, there’s no need for me to feel threatened. I’m just that kid who’s like, “Why can’t we all just be friends.” [Laughs] I walk into a green room and want to be friends with everyone, all the artists. It’s just weird to me that people don’t want to do that, and I click with people who do, like Cousin Stizz, or Kevin Abstract, or Tyler Mitchell. They’re just trying to create for the love. They’re not trying to stunt on everybody, they’re not trying to be the best rapper alive. They’re trying to express themselves and be the best them alive. I just feel like that’s where this has to go for everything to progress, for everyone to be on that wave.
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Photo by Tyler Mitchell
When I first meet with people in real life, it’s not like they love me right away. Before any of this, I wasn’t a popular kid in school or anything. I was class clown, maybe.
You’re going to get 1,000 questions about the Grammys, but I have to ask, how’d you first find out?
I just woke up and my phone—nobody specific. I went on Twitter, I checked messages and the world told me. The world told me.
Have you had a chance to talk with Kanye about the nominations?
I haven’t, I haven’t communicated with him since I found out. But hopefully, you know, at the ceremony [Laughs]. It’s weird because, like I said, I’m very open and always like to extend my hand out and talk to different artists. But I feel like, for some reason, at the same time, the way everything was structured, I still have a small circle. At the end of the day, we’re still building something from the ground up. I talk to Kaslow every day, Pat, but that’s pretty much it. I’m not on G.O.O.D. Music so I don’t talk to him every day. People think I text Ye, like, “Hey what’s up?” [Laughs]. But it’s not like that, we just collabed. Whenever we collab again, it’ll just be that. We don’t have any mad close friendship yet, though I’d like for that to happen.
Do you know if you’ll appear on Swish on additional material?
The thing is, even if you’re in a Kanye session, you’re not really aware of anything after. You don’t know what’s going to happen. I was in a studio with them in France, but I don’t know if any of those songs are going to be on there. I might be on it and not even know, like with “All Day.” I recorded a lot of shit while I was there, I made two beats [Laughs]. I don’t know, but hopefully.
What was the very first thing he said to you?
The first words we ever said to each other were “Hi, nice to meet you” at the exact same time [Laughs]. It was pretty weird, literally the exact same time. After I played him my music, we didn’t really say much else. He was like, “Alright, you got some shit to play me?” And I played him my music, all of my unreleased stuff and he liked it. He was like, “I like this. I want to hear everything, play all of this. All of your notes, your voice memos, your scrap songs, your beats. Go through everything, don’t leave anything out.” We went through a playlist and I didn’t want to play most of it [Laughs]. You only want to play what you’re most confident in, but we went through it and gave him some things.
The aftermath, after “All Day,” I remember we were in a jet, on the way to the Billboard Awards to perform “All Day” again, he was like, “So what’s up with you?” Me and Pat were on the plane. He was like, “What’s up with you guys, you got your own little deal going on?” He was just trying to figure out what was happening. And we were like, “No we’re not signing, we just want to keep putting music out.” And he’s like, “There’s no point, right!” And I was like, “Yeah, exactly!” We were just talking about how there’s no point now to sign your life away, especially if you want to build something. At the right time, it’s necessary. When there’s too much weight for me to carry on my own and I need help, I’ll do that, but right now it’s just all about building your own thing. And he recognized that.
He’s definitely in touch with the youth, and in touch with how we’re all going out about doing this. He could try to use his power and be like, “Hey, I want you on G.O.O.D. blah blah blah.” He didn’t even do that, as much as he likes me as an artist, he was just looking out for what’s best for me. It doesn’t make sense to sign at this time in the music game, in my position. Maybe in someone else’s but not in mine. We shared the same views on how I’m releasing music. He’s a very do-it-yourself guy. He’s one of the first people in the game to pay for his own videos and really take out of his own pocket for his art. Normally, people just wait for the label and get a budget. But he was like, “No, I want this video to be this dope and I’ll use my own money to do it.” He’s one of the originators of that type of mindset.
DJ Khaled is another big supporter. He’s everywhere right now. What’s your relationship like with him now?
He had seen Spooky Black’s “Without You” video and had listened to his project and was just a fan. So Spooky got him to open up, it was that simple. Like, “Yo, can you open for us in New York?” and he was like, “I’m there.” Through The Stand4rd coming out and everything, I just personally always stayed in touch with him. It was a cool thing, but through that experience, it was like, “DJ Khaled is a really nice guy.” You don’t meet a lot of nice people—in general, in the world. Let alone in the game.
He’s a really nice dude. I was like, “Man, I just always want to know this guy.” I’d love for that. So I’ve always made sure to keep in touch. Once in awhile I’ll send him stuff and he’ll give me feedback, or around the holiday times I’ll just check in. He’s definitely someone in the game I look up to, even with how to carry yourself. Anything positive is cool to me. He really looked out and cares about the music. It’s not acting, he’s really that passionate.
Looking back at the past year, is there anything you would change or do differently? Do you have any regrets?
I have no regrets, because every mistake I made got me more ready for this year. I made a lot of mistakes, you know? But they were all rooted in ignorance and not knowing, not because I intentionally hurt anyone or messed up or squandered my opportunity. So that let’s me learn, now I can do better.
Who has given you the single best piece of advice in your career?
Plain Pat told me, “Don’t force it. When it’s gonna come it comes. Don’t force anything.”
Plain Pat, waddup.
Exactly [Laughs].
Where did your nickname Peanut Butter Prince come from?
That came right when I was writing “Evergreens,” I just needed an intro [Laughs]. I just came up with it. It felt like it fit. I’m peanut butter colored, I just loved how it sounded. The royal aspect of it and the funny, the silly aspect of it. The girls like it but you can make fun of it [Laughs]. This is fresh, this is fire, I’m the Peanut Butter Prince.”
In your mind, what separates a visionary from someone with a vision?
A visionary goes out and does it. Everybody has a vision. If you’re talking to anybody, they can tell you something dope. Like, if I gave someone a million dollars what would they do? “Oh, I’d do this, this, and this.” But what if I didn’t give you a million dollars?
Like, “Ye told me drive slow”? [Referring to a line from “The Ride,” the intro to Northern Lights] I wrote that before “All Day.” That was something I just felt. That’s why Steve Jobs is a visionary. A visionary takes that vision and makes it physical, like you can touch it. It becomes real life.
How has your perception of fandom changed, and how do you hope to continue pushing the message of being your own person to them?
I obviously can’t control all the comments everybody says all the time. But when I talk to somebody face to face, they might be a fan for the wrong reasons or they might think I’m something I’m not. I always try to make it clear I’m your friend. We’re both human. I want them to understand I’m just a kid too.
Read “The Outsider,” our September 2015 interview with Allan Kingdom, right here, and check out Talk to Strangers, Future Memoirs, and Northern Lights while you’re at it.
