Few voices in contemporary electronic music are as instantly recognisable as Lazarusman’s. The South African spoken-word artist, poet, vocalist and songwriter has spent more than a decade expanding the narrative possibilities of dance music, bringing lyrical depth, social commentary and emotional honesty to club culture. Through acclaimed collaborations with artists including Stimming, FKA Mash, Johannes Brecht, Hyenah, Ryan Murgatroyd, Da Capo and many others, he has established himself as one of electronic music’s most distinctive storytellers.

His new album ‘Skin,’ out now, marks a significant milestone in that journey. Conceived as a deeply personal and carefully curated body of work, the record brings together a diverse cast of collaborators, including Stimming, FKA Mash, Johannes Brecht and Boogie Vice, while exploring themes of identity, masculinity, memory, belonging and survival. Moving effortlessly between deep house, Afro house, breakbeats and jazz influences, ‘Skin’ is both an intimate self-portrait and a broader reflection on contemporary life. We caught up with Lazarusman to discuss the making of the album, his creative process and the stories behind one of his most ambitious projects to date.

WWD: Skin feels deeply personal, but also socially observant. At what point did you realise this body of work was becoming an album rather than a collection of collaborations?

Greetings to the When We Dip family. Thanks for having me. On the album, to be honest it was intentional. After spending months writing the poems for the album, I created a list of the producers I wanted to work with. I constructed the album in a similar way I would build a DJ set or performance. It’s a mirror of me and what I like.

WWD: Sonically, ‘Skin’ moves through deep house, Afro house, breakbeats and jazz influences while still feeling very cohesive. What kind of atmosphere or emotional landscape were you trying to create with the album as a whole?

I challenged myself to find harmony in variation. I wanted the tracks to feel different from one another yet one and the same as a body of work. It’s kind of an ode to the ethos of house or dance music. While it’s all different, it generally has the same foundations. All these genres you mentioned are derivatives of one another and the best artists are able to migrate between them.

WWD: What is your actual writing process like? Do the words arrive before the music, or does the production guide the narrative?

It depends. I am often commissioned to work on projects; in that instance, the production comes before the words. But for projects like this and a few others, I am leading the narrative. I write the poems and send them to the artists and then wait like a kid at McDonald’s for the Happy Meal to arrive.

WWD: After more than a decade of collaborations and standout features, what does ‘Skin’ represent to you personally at this stage of your life and career?

It’s the archiving of that decade. Skin, for me, is the sum of my career. All those years, all that I have learnt, has come to this. I curated this from start to finish and, as any vocalist in dance music will tell you, autonomy and agency are rare.

WWD: Your spoken-word style has become instantly recognisable within electronic music. How has your relationship with language and storytelling evolved on ‘Skin’ compared to your earlier work? How have you developed that balance between spoken word, rhythm and sound design over the years?

Sonically, I am the best I have ever been. My ear and attention to detail have improved. I never set out to DJ or make music; I was slamming in cafés and theatres. So I had to learn that. I was able to guide the music in ways that I wanted and I was lucky enough to work with artists who gave me that chance. I feel more rounded now and can articulate myself better musically.

WWD: A lot of electronic vocal performances are built around hooks or melodies, whereas your work often relies on cadence, repetition, silence and tension. What drew you toward spoken-word expression within club music in the first place?

I kind of saw a gap for that, that there were very few people who did it, and I was like, this is the space that I want to occupy. This is where I can express myself. And if you know anything about spoken word, this is the hallmark of the craft: say it until it sticks.

WWD: You’ve worked with artists like Stimming, FKA Mash, Johannes Brecht and Boogie Vice on this project. What do you look for in a producer collaboration, and how do you know when someone truly understands your voice and writing?

I am probably going to get shade for this, but not all producers know how to work with vocals. And guys, it shows. Often I hear how producers have worked with other vocalists and that always piques my interest as to how they can work with mine. It’s when they turn the voice into an instrument that they can play and manipulate. It’s a rare skill that a lot of the artists on this record possess.

WWD: There’s a strong emotional openness throughout the record, especially around masculinity, tenderness, inherited belief systems and survival. Did writing these pieces change your understanding of yourself in any way?

One hundred percent. I really had to dig deep for these emotions because I had to decide what I wanted to say. Really, I just wanted to tell my life story and some of the things I experienced. What is fascinating is how these stories manifested; for example, my history of being bullied about the darkness of my skin manifested in a track called Soft Serve, about light-skinned Venda girls and colourism.

WWD: Afro house and electronic music from South Africa are often celebrated internationally for their rhythm and energy, but not always for their lyrical depth. Do you feel your work challenges certain expectations of what electronic music can communicate emotionally or politically?

Maybe it challenges those norms a little too much, so much so that it doesn’t necessarily rise to the top. Because that’s not always what people want to dance to. Dance music has always bordered on the risk of being vapid and devoid of true meaning, so I try to bring that back to the music because that’s what I found when I first heard Roland Clark’s Resist as a kid.

WWD: Were there particular musical, literary or cultural influences that shaped the sound and writing of ‘Skin?’ What were you listening to, reading or reflecting on while making this record?

I really tried to isolate myself as much as possible in order to recreate the stuff I loved and jammed to. It’s my worst nightmare when I can hear a line of mine sounding like a line from another song, poet or artist.

But I did spend many hours listening to every artist on this album while I was writing it. I look up to all these guys so much and I am so grateful that they lent me their craft to create this body of work. I am eternally thankful.

WWD: Congrats on the album and thanks for the chat 🙂 

Thanks!

The ‘Skin’ album is available here.