Home sweet Omar

Down in Thornton Heath, a young man called Omar is admiring his flash car, his new house and his tropical fish. Britain’s soul hope fixed Laura Connelly with a steely stare and talks about money, music and living next door to mum.

Deepest Thornton Heath. A sleepy south London borough of leafy suburban splendour with a Croydon postcode – hardly an area you’d associate with one of the hippest young soul singers in the country. But if supermodel Naomi Campbell can make it from the grimy, What She Wants tack of Streatham, just down the road, so can Omar. There’s already a token of success parked in the drive of his terrace house – a new and shiny black Saab turbo convertible.

“It’s a nice car, what’s flash about it?” shrugs the 23 year old. It goes with the territory, the puffed-up egotism and penis-extension of many a south London street bwoy, never mind a budding pop/soul star. He wears the latest ‘street’ fashion – red Bally boots, red Zeus jeans and white vest, and has a mop of short, spiky dreads – but there’s no hint of braggadocio or aggressiveness in his manner. He’s attentive and alert. He knows what his talents are and is not shy about admitting his mistakes.

We sit in his front room, all stripped pine floorboards and dark, moody, aqua-green walls. A battered L-shaped sofa strewn with photos of himself and Stevie Wonder, stands at one end of the room and a tropical fish tank bubbles gently at the other. It’s been some two years since the debut album ‘There’s Nothing Like This’ came out on a small independent, Kongo Dance, and rocked the music world with its freshness. It was gently re-mixed and re-released last year on Talkin’ Loud to critical acclaim and the title track shot into the singles chart, but his success has still only reached cult status. Indeed, he has relatively few live gigs under his belt. But he’s eager to remedy that. “Definitely. It’s a chance to perform the music, innit?” he spouts with his sarf London, Jamaican tinged accent. “You can stretch the songs, shorten them, put solos in, do a whole heap of stuff. I get the livin’ buzz. I’m just singing and I close my eyes and go into it. But you can’t shut the audience off completely. Things like that I’m still learning, y’know.”

You can tell an Omar sound when you hear one. That layering of sassy, warped keyboards, sparse, simple baselines and funky live drums. It jumps and jerks with busy rhythms and once the grooves are set up, they lock into a swing like a terrier, thrusting, snappy and vigorous. It’s all about rhythm. There are distinctive elements of salsa, jazz and funk in his songs, moulded into a curly beat, with his dusty and guttural tones bouncing over the top. It reminds you off Stevie Wonder’s classic ‘Innervisions’ period, the new album ‘Music’ even more so. With lush string embellishments, barbershop-style harmonies and slinky production, every track is a chunky slab of good music. He plays all the instruments, produces and write the lyrics himself. He admits, though, that he doesn’t quite have the proudundity of Stevie. “Lyrics is the hardest things for me because I’m from the musical side of things. It’s the last thing I hear, man. All that love stuff is easy to fall into, especially when you start off being a soul artist. But this new album is more directed at being positive. I’m trying to expand a bit more. What is it, writer’s block? I dunno.”

Branded the next big British soul star, he has distinct views on the definition of the genre. “I think the soul title should be wider than it used to be. Soul is Harry Connick Jr. I reckon, ‘cos that’s what the guy does. It’s music from the soul, there’s no bullshit. Seal I would say is soul, Lenny Kravitz is soul; even Chris Isaak, though he’s country and western, he’s creating his own sound. I place my self in that bracket – that’s what I’m striving for, recognition. You must know that this is my sound and I’m not taking from anybody else.”

His distinctive production and writing skills are in demand. He’s composing the music for Lenny Henry’s new TV series, as well as producing tracks for his album. He’s going to be working with the upcoming pop-dance group Nu-Colours, and was instrumental in crafting this year’s throbbing dancefloor hit with Mica Paris, ‘I Should’ve Known Better’. He claims he’s not a prolific songwriter, though. “I’m not a guy who writes five songs a day. I can’t understand people who do that. If you’re asking me to write a song, I’ll sit down in the studio and hopefully you’ll be there and I will write you a song. I’m not going to write three or four or you to choose from so you can come back and say the other three are crap. I don’t write B-sides. It’s all A-sides with me,”, he says with a hunt of arrogance and a smile.

There’s certainly no B-sides on the new album and its potential to reach the high echelons of the charts is huge. But he doesn’t particularly want the trappings of stardom, he claims. He’s got his car and has bought his house – next door to his mum, he admits sheepishly (though he’s ‘quite independent, thank you.’) He looks over to the fish tank. “I’m surprised those neons are still there, the catfish should have got them by now. Actually, I’m going to get rid of the lot and just get a piranha,” he says with a grin.

Omar plays Royal Festival Hall, July 17 & Jazz Café, July 22-23. His album ‘Music’ is out in August on Talkin’ Loud.