As he releases his second album, the all-conquering grime star talks about living in the public eye, a new politics of hope - and why it nearly all went wrong at Glastonbury this summerLadies and gentlemen please make way for the man of 2019, barrelling into his lovely kitchen-lounge in a blue dressing gown and tracky bottoms. `Sorry, sorry!` says Stormzy, enveloping me in a hug. `Sorry.` His apologies are because he´s a bit late - he had a headache, `even though I went bed early` - and also because I´ve just heard him bawl out a man who came to his front door. Stormzy had thought it was a food delivery and so buzzed the gate to let him in. But the man wasn´t delivering food. `He was looking for money,` says Stormzy. `So send me an email, you get me? I get it´s a charity, but this is my home. I´m Michael here, not Stormzy!`We´re sitting on an L-shaped sofa, opposite an enormous TV. Michael Omari Jr, aka Stormzy, who is jolly despite his buzzing head, goes to feed his dog, a huge Rottweiler lounging by the front door. Time for me to have a nosey around. Stormzy´s house is open plan, bright and modern, with what at first glance looks like an awful lot of ornaments but turns out to be awards: 29 of them, on various living-room shelves, including several Mobos. There´s also his 2019 Time cover, framed and waiting to be hung up, and in his downstairs loo a double platinum disc for his first album, Gang Signs & Prayers. The place is neat, but not a show home. There are clothes on the ironing board, bottles of Coke on the surfaces.Floor-to-ceiling glass doors look out over a grey sky, a small square of grass, a free-standing boxing bag and what looks like a glass-fronted studio. It´s actually a glamma-kennel, for the dog. Continue reading...
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