Any unfamiliar with Riz Ahmed’s music will recognise him from roles in high-profile Hollywood films—since his breakout in Chris Morris’ Four Lions, Ahmed has ascended to the status of household name. Despite inter-continental success and schmoozes with chat show hosts in the US, Ahmed is fierce in his self-identification as a Brit (grabbing stateside headlines in 2016 with a timely assertion “this is what British looks like”).
Swet Shop Boys—Ahmed’s collaboration with former Das Racist member Himanchu Suri—had consequently felt compromised; its singular thrust slowed and bisected between continents. Suri is from Queens, and enjoys Punjabi-Indian heritage. By contrast, Ahmed is a Wembley native with Muhajir Pakistani roots. The duo enjoyed the broadness, the contrasting viewpoints, that this afforded Swet Shop Boys. But by shedding Suri and his laid-back, affable style for The Long Goodbye, Ahmed’s work has been emboldened and found new focus and conceptual rigour.
The concept itself finds Ahmed in a break-up with Britain; the country’s centuries of contradiction, colonisation and mistreatment of Asia worked into a small-scale personal narrative. Ahmed has corralled cameos from high-profile pals (including Chabuddy G of People Just Do Nothing, Mindy Kaling of The Office and even Mahershala Ali), each offering advice, well-wishes or general thoughts on how his “ex” is treating him. “Britney” is positioned as an emotionally abusive character who extorts, impels or begs one second and turns her nose up the next—and Ahmed so capably weaves the history of the UK into his telling it’s impossible to disagree.
Material which could seem played-out in the hands of a lesser MC (I’m looking at you, ‘Where You From’) is elevated by Ahmed’s delivery, the strength of his arguments and the lyricism they float on. The Long Goodbye is something like Britain’s To Pimp a Butterfly—an unflinching, stunningly frank discussion of how racism still permeates every level of society—though it wouldn’t surprise anyone to hear that it doesn’t match the ambition of Kendrick’s piece. It is, though, similarly complex; a peaceful album which admonishes temperance, but never feels contradictory. It’s also a multimedia piece: the short film which accompanied the LP is linked below. The Long Goodbye does the only thing that many can: tries to clear its throat in a country which has made a centuries-long habit of ignoring its voice.
The Long Goodbye is available for purchase and streaming here.
Words: Andrew O’Keefe