The life of an emerging musician in the south west
In conversation with Karum Cooper, we discussed the nature of the Southwest music
scene.
scene.
“To have an amazing functional music scene, you need to create a mini industry”
I bumped into Karum on the main high street of Falmouth, where we both live. We were on
our way to the meeting, it was dark and stormy, as expected during winter in Cornwall. We
retreated to a café, I bought the coffee, and he bought the cakes.
Karum is twenty-five, a twenty-five-year-old with many talents. He is a musician, promoter,
and producer, making his music through Webmoms, self-described as “Jazzy Lo-fi
Instrumental hip-hop.” BYP is his promoting company, and he runs Burn it Down festival,
a popular alternative music festival based in Torquay.
our way to the meeting, it was dark and stormy, as expected during winter in Cornwall. We
retreated to a café, I bought the coffee, and he bought the cakes.
Karum is twenty-five, a twenty-five-year-old with many talents. He is a musician, promoter,
and producer, making his music through Webmoms, self-described as “Jazzy Lo-fi
Instrumental hip-hop.” BYP is his promoting company, and he runs Burn it Down festival,
a popular alternative music festival based in Torquay.
Karum moved to Cornwall from Manchester when he was
eleven and has been based down here in the southwest ever since. His
formative years were here in Falmouth. He got his music interest through secondary
school and college bands and the friends he made through this. He was surrounded by a lot
of punk and indie music.
eleven and has been based down here in the southwest ever since. His
formative years were here in Falmouth. He got his music interest through secondary
school and college bands and the friends he made through this. He was surrounded by a lot
of punk and indie music.
Karum told me about his early days in music, in between sips of his black coffee and bites
of his Vegan banana bread, how college fed his musical growth. “We kind of had this pretty
amazing run of singer-songwriters or producers. We all kind of came up together. I think it
was one of the things that makes Cornwall different from cities is that it’s quite likely that
you’ll get a melting pot of different musicians playing together at a younger age and coming
up together and cutting their teeth together. By the time you get to your early twenties, you’ve
got ten to fifteen people you know you can comfortably count on. It’s comforting.”
of his Vegan banana bread, how college fed his musical growth. “We kind of had this pretty
amazing run of singer-songwriters or producers. We all kind of came up together. I think it
was one of the things that makes Cornwall different from cities is that it’s quite likely that
you’ll get a melting pot of different musicians playing together at a younger age and coming
up together and cutting their teeth together. By the time you get to your early twenties, you’ve
got ten to fifteen people you know you can comfortably count on. It’s comforting.”
How did you get into music? What’s your origin story?
The band I was in for a long time was Hypophora. A high school band we started
when we were about fourteen. Started gigging properly in our last year of school, that was my
gateway into music. After playing the guitar, finding a band was important in realising I wanted to
do that full-time.
when we were about fourteen. Started gigging properly in our last year of school, that was my
gateway into music. After playing the guitar, finding a band was important in realising I wanted to
do that full-time.
I guess it gave a place for it. What made you pick up the guitar?
My dad played, and he taught me when I was about ten or eleven. There was an after-school club for anyone who played an instrument and liked rock music would come together. I went on a whim and met a guy called Sam, who went on to be a founding member of Hypophora and a good friend. He introduced me to heavier music; I think he was my catalyst for discovering this world. It was run by a TA; she was so invested and liked seeing us learn a new song and was excited to see us build this band together. Her enthusiasm was infectious. It was an amazing breeding ground for people who thought their music was being taken seriously.
How would you define the music you make with Webmoms?
It’s usually in constant flux. I would say it’s kind of like a jazzy instrumental, lo-fi hip hop.
It becomes more hip-hop with vocals and more R&B if there is a singer featured on it. It straddles
a few different things at the moment.
It becomes more hip-hop with vocals and more R&B if there is a singer featured on it. It straddles
a few different things at the moment.
How did you progress through music?
Both my parents are really into jazz and R&B, and soul. So, it wasn’t like a drastic change in
taste it was constantly going on in the background, but I tried going against the grain, listening
to heaver stuff. But I realised I could be more diverse with my music taste.
taste it was constantly going on in the background, but I tried going against the grain, listening
to heaver stuff. But I realised I could be more diverse with my music taste.
In my late teens, I was more open-minded with my music taste. We had a sequencing class at college where we were taught Logic Pro; it was a game-changer for me; I was able to make music on my own and got into making my music and sequencing, and sampling. With an affinity for electronic jazz, the older I got, I realised that between genres, there are endless subgenres. What I release is more on the commercial side, but I don’t think I would be able to comfortably sustain a fan base or make a fan base from super experimental stuff. But in five years, I know I’ll have more stuff in the bank.
You’ve built up an archive of music. Have you still got more to release?
It’s stressful, it’s like I am a bit of a perfectionist. I don’t want to release something if it
It isn’t at its peak form, or if it’s going to fall on deaf ears. I self-released a lot in the early
days, but I’m used to releasing through labels, so I am scared to produce without the support and
the PR. It’s about now lining up labels. I’m slowly sifting through the backlog of
music, by the time I’ve done this, I’ll have made more songs.
It isn’t at its peak form, or if it’s going to fall on deaf ears. I self-released a lot in the early
days, but I’m used to releasing through labels, so I am scared to produce without the support and
the PR. It’s about now lining up labels. I’m slowly sifting through the backlog of
music, by the time I’ve done this, I’ll have made more songs.
That’s a good problem to have.
Yeah, maybe a label will find me with ten albums worth of stuff later!
A lot of artists regret not keeping an archive of their work.
It’s amazing to chronicle your progression. When you’re in doubt about your own artistic
capabilities, being able to go back through your archive, it’s like ‘oh, I made that.’ It’s powerful.
capabilities, being able to go back through your archive, it’s like ‘oh, I made that.’ It’s powerful.
What do you get from promoting and producing?
I’m still in the process of figuring it out. They started as hobbies, but theoretically, they could
go in their directions and be full-time careers. But I have a real passion for it, and having
the platform to put new bands on and showcase the bands you like to rooms full of people is
something I don’t want to lose touch with; it’s about finding a balance. To get gigs, we
would put on our own. You become more competent in how you can organise yourself, and you reach people you don’t know and offer them help, and that’s how I started BYP.
go in their directions and be full-time careers. But I have a real passion for it, and having
the platform to put new bands on and showcase the bands you like to rooms full of people is
something I don’t want to lose touch with; it’s about finding a balance. To get gigs, we
would put on our own. You become more competent in how you can organise yourself, and you reach people you don’t know and offer them help, and that’s how I started BYP.
I don’t think it’s going to be the focus of my life. If an investor wants to come along and funnel
Some money to Burn It Down and take it to an arena, I wouldn’t turn that down.
Some money to Burn It Down and take it to an arena, I wouldn’t turn that down.
You never know; something could come out of the woodwork. You’ve just announced Burn It Down is happening again in 2024.
We’ll do Burn It Down forever, I think. It’s a fun thing to pour ourselves into once a year. I
Don’t think we’ll ever stop doing it. The Southwest scene needs to have that because
There isn’t an alternative festival below Bristol.
Don’t think we’ll ever stop doing it. The Southwest scene needs to have that because
There isn’t an alternative festival below Bristol.
It’s about putting your energy in the right places.
I spread myself too thin. I’ll earmark one or two days a week to work on bookings. I feel that at
this age, I should be focusing on things that are more in line with what I want to be.
this age, I should be focusing on things that are more in line with what I want to be.
What are these things?
I want to get better at my instruments. I started getting flute lessons, and started honing my own
music theory knowledge. I kind of blindly figured out I liked producing music when I was younger. I took the skills I had when I was seventeen and kind of carried them on, but I haven’t refined them.
music theory knowledge. I kind of blindly figured out I liked producing music when I was younger. I took the skills I had when I was seventeen and kind of carried them on, but I haven’t refined them.
Do you think the Southwest allows you to grow as an artist, or is it restrictive?
A bit of both. Probably an equal split. The southwest is not a particularly profitable place to make
music, there is no real industry here outside of the local one. There are no record labels or PR
companies and event promoters. There’s no industry to get stuck in. It makes it really
difficult to have a belief or a collective toward music; people still see it as a novelty. In another city, you would have a huge, huge community of full-time music industry professionals. That doesn’t happen down here, as there is no ecosystem outside of festivals. Also, they are all older men for the most part, so it’s not a very inclusive scene.
music, there is no real industry here outside of the local one. There are no record labels or PR
companies and event promoters. There’s no industry to get stuck in. It makes it really
difficult to have a belief or a collective toward music; people still see it as a novelty. In another city, you would have a huge, huge community of full-time music industry professionals. That doesn’t happen down here, as there is no ecosystem outside of festivals. Also, they are all older men for the most part, so it’s not a very inclusive scene.
To make a name for yourself in Cornwall as a musician, you kind of have to go freelance
and bust a gut to carve a name for yourself. There’s no ladder here; you either move away devoid of talent or you cut out your niche.
and bust a gut to carve a name for yourself. There’s no ladder here; you either move away devoid of talent or you cut out your niche.
Do you think you’ll stay down here?
Possibly, I am lucky to be in the position where I am making money from music and pretty much work remotely. That affects my decision; I don’t want to live here the rest of my life. It’s
chaos in bigger cities. The benefit of living down here is an easy way of life.
chaos in bigger cities. The benefit of living down here is an easy way of life.
What does your growing reach mean to you?
It’s always an amazing thing; even you are reaching out to me; it’s cool. It shows there are
some legs to what I’m doing. Especially with the gigs and festival stuff, it’s an amazing
thing to give something to a community, when we were young, we had nothing.
Basically, there was nothing for young alternative kids to get stuck into. The ability to
facilitate that and give that to younger kids now is important, that is probably one of the
sources of my pride at the moment.
some legs to what I’m doing. Especially with the gigs and festival stuff, it’s an amazing
thing to give something to a community, when we were young, we had nothing.
Basically, there was nothing for young alternative kids to get stuck into. The ability to
facilitate that and give that to younger kids now is important, that is probably one of the
sources of my pride at the moment.
Do you think there is a future for alternative music in the Southwest?
I think so, I hope so. I think we need more infrastructure. There are more artists and bands, and
publications, which is good to see to have an amazing functional music scene, you need to
create a mini industry. I think we have a bit of a way to go about being self-
sufficient. I guess it’s impossible to tell we’ll see, but I have faith.
publications, which is good to see to have an amazing functional music scene, you need to
create a mini industry. I think we have a bit of a way to go about being self-
sufficient. I guess it’s impossible to tell we’ll see, but I have faith.
Exiting the coffee shop, leaving behind crumbs and coffee dregs, heading out to the pier so I could grab some portrait shots of Karum, in the misty rain, we continued to chat as I took the pictures, and he posed like a trained model. The only soul in sight was a man in a small fishing boat, diesel engine spluttering; he provided nothing more than a polite nod as Karum parted ways, until the next time.
