Razor doesn’t just make music, he survives through it. You can hear it in every word. When he says he feels like Samson without his hair if he can’t create, you know this isn’t a hobby. It’s oxygen.

Reserved in person, but press record? Razor shows up. The alter ego. The emotion. The honesty. He calls it an outlet, but it’s more than that. It’s the thread stitching him together. Razor’s not here to follow trends.

From growing up in a council estate to writing verses years before life gave them context, his music is full of time, tension and truth. Whether it’s heartbreak, grief, trauma or the gym, it’s all in there. He writes when he’s ready, and it always hits when you need it.

His work is layered. Sometimes soulful, sometimes gritty, sometimes genreless. But always Razor.