This Is Bat Country: Jehst and Kashmere on Kingdom of Fear

There are relatively few UK hip-hop releases that can truly be termed 'classics.' Which is not to say that the quality of the work, or the talent of the artists involved, is lacking – far from it. Just that you rarely come across a collection of tracks quite as immediate as those found on Jehst's 2005 breakthrough outing Nuke Proof Suit, or indeed his friend and collaborator Kashmere's 2006 album In The Hour of Chaos, on which Jehst also cut a few of the beats. These two releases stand tall in the context of UK hip-hop, due in no small part to the wit, charm and invention of the two rappers, and to Jehst's ceaselessly creative take on hip-hop as a producer.

When Jehst dropped the self-titled album by Kingdom of Fear on his own YNR label in October, it was an open secret that the un-named rapper on the tracks was Kashmere, and indeed Kashmere's unmistakable flow and wicked way with a one-liner were instantly recognisable. Nonetheless, Kingdom of Fear did a convincing and highly entertaining job with its premise – a UK hip-hop tour through the themes, adaptations and worlds of Gonzo pioneer Hunter S. Thompson. Packed to the gunnels with outlandish tales of drug consumption, road trips and hallucinatory visions, it felt like Jehst and Kashmere were having the time of their lives, freed from the often insular and incestuous UK hip-hop scene's clichés by adherence to what the other Lebowski might call “a pretty strict, uh, drug regimen,” administered in more than one of what another psychedelic idol, Terence McKenna, called “a heroic dose.”

In person, even while speaking as the hedonistic character he so effortlessly plays on the album, Kashmere is initially reluctant to talk about the drugs. When The Skinny remarks that he raps about drugs we had never even heard of, and asked him what his research involved, he replies: “Hmmm. I think I'll go with no comment.” Kashmere plays the part of Hunter S. Thompson, Doctor of Journalism, while Jehst takes on the role of his nefarious attorney. Hearing his client's answer, he responds: “Well that's got to be a first! He normally just completely disregards my legal advice... Needless to say all research was conducted purely for scientific purposes.”

The album was recorded at Jamestown Studios, in London's Whitechapel, which Kashmere descibes as: “...like the Asian Las Vegas for some.” Jehst agrees: “Indeed. The gateway to Jankrowville is a rite of passage for many who dare to tread the path eastward. Hipsters beware!” The prospect of seeing Jehst and Kashmere stumbling around Whitechapel, out of their minds, convinced that they have become the characters they play on the record is at once terrifying and hilarious. We ask if Jehst has ever gotten Kashmere out of trouble with the law in real life - or indeed into trouble. “Depends on what you mean by in trouble,” says Kashmere. “Being drugged and left for dead in Eltham wearing a 'White People Suck' t-shirt? Well yes.”

“I was simply passing on a gift from the BNP,” Jehst explains. “It was specifically addressed to him. I didn't do my research and I got them confused with the BDP [Boogie Down Productions – KRS-One's first band]. I took it to be some kind of pro-Black political statement...”

Do they believe that psychedelic experiences and hallucinations contain any deep meaning, or do the pair simply enjoy a good night out. “Both,” answers Jehst without hesitation. “Definitely both.” Kashmere's answer is a touch more philosophical: “Some people think psychedelics may be the only hope in hell we have to find 'God' if indeed it exists,” he says, echoing McKenna's arguments about the purpose of what he calls 'entheogens' like magic mushrooms and peyote. “Failing that, at least you got high.” Jehst, meanwhile, has let his attention wander: “I once made a piece of toast when I was high,” he mumbles dreamily. “When the bread popped out of the toaster it had Immortal Technique's face on it.”

Readers of the original Fear & Loathing will note that Thompson's novel addressed some interesting political questions alongside the drug madness. What parallels do Jehst and Kashmere think there are between the USA that Thompson depicted, and modern Britain? “None whatsoever,” says Kashmere decsisively. “The USA Hunter depicted was a big diseased vagina beckoning you to come and fuck it raw dog at the risk of your personal safety. And it wants you to pay for the privilege. Modern Britain doesn't want you to fuck it at all... It's frigid.” Jehst however disagrees strongly, crying: “Nonsense! It's exactly the same. Legalised gambling, rampant alcoholism, high street prostitution, corrupt authorities... Need I go on?”

Jehst's production on this album drew heavily on psych rock, funk and samples from Hunter S Thompson-related films and audio. How did he go about constructing the project, and how did he decide on the sound he wanted to go for? “Although I produced everything, in some respects I really should've given Kash a co-production credit just in the sense of co-signing the musical choices that I was making along the way,” he explains. “Everything was done on the spot in the studio with me and him both there. Unless he was running late, in which case I might have already started messing with a beat, but no rules were set. Nothing was pre-conceived in that sense.”

Both Jehst and Kashmere have been in the UK music industry for a long time, what made them want to release an album that allowed them to create characters, rather than speaking as themselves? “We thought we'd make less money this way,” jokes Kashmere. “But in all seriousness I've never written exclusively as myself. In rap music, especially nowadays, there is this thing about strictly speaking on your life. For me, I enjoy using the imagination and using music as an escape, rather than a reminder of how dull life can be. Each to their own. I do write about my life but I abstract it. For example the line: 'The grizzle we blaze will make you feel feeble / Like you're in a confessional box up in a Cathedral' was totally a line about my love for British amateur porn.”

“Now that's abstract!” exclaims Jehst, who also wants to weigh in, speaking as one of the UK's most respected emcees. “I wonder what Kamal would have to say about that... Then again, I'm sure he loves British amateur porn too. Seriously though, first of all I'd say we've both been 'outside' the UK music industry for a long time - not 'in' it. That's the way things are set up. Artists like us will always be kept on the sidelines for as long as possible. Due to running the label and the sheer number of years I've been out here as an artist I'm increasingly involved in the 'industry' side of music. But primarily we're from a culture and a movement that has always been and always will be outside of 'the industry' - which is basically geared towards mind-control.”

He's absolutely right – despite widespread acclaim and legions of hip-hop heads ready to namecheck them at the drop of a hat, both Jehst and Kashmere have been almost summarily ignored by the mainstream music industry and press. “A few soldiers made it beyond the frontline and behind enemy lines, and a few defected,” Jehst continues, describing the rise of artists prepared to commodify and dilute their sound. “Other than that we have a few 'urban' pop-stars who can be described as rappers, but in terms of the culture of hip-hop, that's not really what they're about. They have no value system or history. To them, hip-hop is just there as a platform to mainstream visibility so they can make some money acting out these 'urban' fairytales.”

Jehst's take on the rise of the 'urban' pop star is a cutting insight into the sense of betrayal felt by certain quarters of the community when an artist like Dizzee Rascal collaborates with David Guetta, or when people refer to Example as a rapper. Kashmere sums the state of affairs up with a brilliant analogy: “Once a friend of mine told me about how someone played a prank on him. He was offered a cup of hot chocolate. He accepted. He took his first gulp expecting a rich Cadbury's or Galaxy chocolate flavour and instead got a mouthful of beef. You see what happened was that the prankster had put the popular meat extract Bovril in the cup instead of hot chocolate.”

Despite being largely ignored by the mainstream, Jehst continues to do what he does best, and YNR as a label is thriving, proving that their will always be a niche for quality hip-hop in the UK. Jehst is working on a whole host of projects for YNR, from the next album by Micall Parknsun, Me Myself & Akai, and the debut album from Telemachus, which he describes as: “...probably the most left-field project that we've ever released on YNR... some of the more traditional rap fans might not get it straight away.” 2013 will also see new work from YNR affiliates like Confucius MC and french producer Keor Meteor, which the label plan to release as a free download. “That's gonna turn a few heads,” Jehst insists.

Attempting to get down to the basics of what makes a good hip-hop rhyme, The Skinny asks: In the Hip-Hop culture that you grew up in, what was more important - great battle rhymes, or great eights and sixteens on tracks? “They were the same thing - and still should be,” says Jehst.

“I can't say one was more important than the other when I was growing up,” Kashmere responds. “It was all good, man. As long as it was good stuff then I wasn't bothered what form it came in. But then again, the 50's had a lot of flavour.”

Suddenly we're back in the realms of the ridiculous: “Ah yes. The 1950's,” says Jehst. “That Golden Era of hip-hop! Who could forget... Chuck Berry formed Public Enemy. The Beatles changed their name to Young Black Teenagers, and our lord and saviour Teddy Riley was born to a pale virgin in a squalid South Bronx apartment...”

We attempt to finish off with a few questions relating back to Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas. What do you do when you enter bat country - stop and fight the bats off, or keep driving as fast as possible? “If I was in a country that was solely populated by bats I'd probably inform the authorities,” says Kashmere. “Although... would they be bats also? If so there would be no point, as they wouldn't find it weird.”

“Batfink would be out of a job too,” muses Jehst. “He'd just be Fink! It would be completely normal to be a Bat so his whole gimmick would be over... A total non-event. He'd just be like, a crime-fighting average dude with no discernible powers or identifying symbolism. How sad... Is anyone with me on this?”

We shake our heads in a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Okay, lets try again: If you picked up a strange hitch-hiker while on an epic cross-country drugs binge, what would you do to freak him out? “I'd stop,” says Kashmere without hesitation. “Take my Hawaiian shirt off. Rack out two fat lines of ketamine in front of him. Take four or five massive gulps of Old Fitzgerald and proceed to drive at about 120 mph down the wrong side of the motorway.” For once, the pair are in complete agreement: “Yeah. That'll do it," says Jehst. "In fact, you probably could've stopped at taking your shirt off. He's got three nipples you see. Like Scaramanga.”

Famously, Hunter S Thompson's remains were fired from a cannon at his funeral. What would you like to happen at your funerals? “I'd like to be cremated then passed around in a bong,” Kashmere says. “I'm sure my family would love that idea.” Jehst laughs: “Yeah, that would go down well! I think the mourners, or should I say revellers in your case, would probably get pretty high, based on the build up of narcotic substances in your body over the years. Like a drug-marinade. Maybe they should eat you instead?”

And what about Jehst, how would he go out? Presumably, not like a sucka? “I'm kinda feeling the whole Viking thing,” he says, “where they put you in a little boat, set you alight and cast you out to sea.” Based on current evidence, both funerals are reassuringly far off. Jehst and Kashmere are both on top form, and it looks like they're set to continue that way. With plans for a potential follow-up album to Kingdom of Fear in the future, and their own solo projects and collaborations ongoing, the pair remain prolific, paralytic and preposterously stoned – two of God's own prototypes, high-powered mutants of some kind, never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.