From the cinematic, gospel-backed anthem of Nobody Knows to the muted, lounge piano vibrations of A Lasting Place, the ten tracks on the album each have distinct moods, tableaus of Loyle’s mind state.

 ‘’Let me tell you what I hate, everything I ain’t’’, the opening bar to hugo’s initial track Hate, a vitriolic introduction to a record brooding with menace, righteous indignation and self-reflective poise. Hate is one of the more earnest and present rap songs released in recent times and a sign of the change in direction for Loyle Carner who has steadily grown from his first two albums of laid back, delicate grooves to now find a voice in his music that rings with protest and honesty. The tracks takes the relationship between hate and fear, a theme not only central to the song but the album as a whole, and casts its subsequent aspersions upon the writer himself. Women, love, religion, drugs, the colour of his skin are a source of anxiety, things to get wrong, to be frustrated by. Moody piano chords and a caustic, full-bodied instrumental frame the lyrics expertly. As the track closes, he states, ‘’But it’s a fact, we’ve been living in a trap’’. Our frailties are sources of exploitation by unseen powers and the provokers of internal machinations to hold us back from our true selves, with hugo though, Carner has harnessed his own insecurities to create an album that oozes in truth.

As with Hate, the record as a whole feels as if influences, both personal and external, have reached a zenith for the South London rapper. It is steeped in a reflective and soulful identity, perfectly encapsulating the societal environment from which it was born. Written during lockdown amongst the pertinent events of global protest at the subjugation of black people under systemic oppression. Simultaneously, he reignited a relationship with his own estranged father, became a father himself, and grappled with his own racial and cultural identity in the periods of lockdown’s isolated self-reflection. The unity of these lived experiences breathe audibly in the lyrics like a visceral entity, a polemic spectre of Carner’s attitudes to himself and those around him. ‘’Because my kid will maybe have those blue eyes, and he won’t understand the pain that’s in mine’’, an almost brutal bar from Nobody Knows that bites into his experience as a mixed race father with ravenous candour. Paired with lines about his own father, ‘’when my dad passed straight biological neglect’’, the track, and hugo generally, takes on a purgative process for Loyle, steering between confession and the search for his identity.

The album has a collage like quality at times with sonic touchstones proudly emblazoned in brief interludes, samples like John Agard’s poem Half Caste in the track Georgetown or activist Athian Athec’s declarative, flourishing speech on the systemic abandonment of black children suffering at the hands of knife crime on Blood on my Nikes. Both of these tracks hold an eminence on the album and typify Carner’s ability to use introspection as an illuminating force on current events. Blood on my Nikes, takes his PTSD at witnessing a murder in his formative years and thrusts that murky, horrific truth into the listeners consciousness. The perspective, a young mind’s innocence being shattered and the later effects of this event on his wider outlook, ‘’And so I grew up scared of the night bus, scared of the boys that look like us’’. Moments like this are unabashed and painful to hear. Georgetown, produced by Madlib, a wonky, East-coast tinged, hammer fist of a tune is a confessional masterpiece. Loyle’s grappling with his dual heritage is made cathartic through his father’s difficult relationship, distancing him from his Guyanese roots. Agard’s poetry bookends the track. ‘’ I'm black like the key on the piano, White like the keys on the piano’’, the poems metaphoric centrepiece is lifted into the chorus refrain and rings clear in a track laden with subtle metaphor.

Carner’s, idiosyncratic, languid delivery remains on this record. At times the imagery and wordplay are reminiscent of some of the UK scene’s earlier exponents like Chester P or Jehst. The soulful, jazz-infused poignancy is also a returning feature from his first two albums on tracks like Homerton or Polyfilla but the newfound splenetic venom and raw lyricism pushes this record to address the central themes of identity, cultural oppression & strained relationships with a narrative skill. Long time collaborator and acclaimed producer Kwes has excelled at uniting this anger with musical literacy in some real bravura instrumentals, holding this album aloft as an emblem for what UK rap has to offer. Indeed, sonically, the scope of hugo spans a much broader horizon than the two prior releases. From the cinematic, gospel-backed anthem of Nobody Knows to the muted, lounge piano vibrations of A Lasting Place, the ten tracks on the album each have distinct moods, tableaus of Loyle’s mind state. They are snapshots of our shared political landscape, sculpting the musical influences of soul, jazz and blues that have shaped black British culture in their wake. Fundamentally, it exudes UK hip-hop credentials; raw, unbridled boom bap beats and elegant jazz instrumentals frame an artist who has matured both creatively and personally. hugo is the album many have been waiting and expecting Loyle Carner to create, it has an ambitious scope and doesn’t disappoint.