“You are currently in my pocket,” Samm Henshaw tells me over Zoom, making his way through his London home as the evening kicks in. “Sorry, I just got in not long ago, so I’m shifting stuff around,” he continues. The British-Nigerian singer has had a busy day, starting with a morning performance taping for BBC’s 1Xtra Live Lounge, followed by press stops and other errands. His schedule has intensified in preparation for his sophomore album, It Could Be Worse (released Jan. 19), and a supporting world tour. Henshaw is somewhat “drained” from a jam-packed day but insists that all is well. That glimmer of optimism comes naturally for Henshaw, but was put to the test in the last couple of years.
Following the release of 2022’s Untidy Soul, his stellar debut, Henshaw found himself in a creative limbo. By that time, he already had a couple of other projects under his belt, including 2015’s The Sound Experiment EP, home of his head-turner “Only Wanna Be With You,” and 2016’s The Sound Experiment 2. He also released a few standalone singles, such as “All Good,” before officially launching his debut era. Despite the acclaim from Untidy Soul, something was nudging Henshaw deep down. “I’d been going hard for so many years, that left me in a place where I felt like the thing I was chasing for other people, I didn’t even get,” he says.
In that moment, Henshaw turned back to what he knew best: music. In 2024, he released his EP, For Someone Somewhere Who Isn’t Us, which he then stated “needed to happen just for me to be able to prove to myself that I could still do it.” Although the project contains only six tracks, Henshaw used every minute to take us on an introspective journey. “A lot of what that EP was about was having a bit of a block,” he reflects. “I went on an exploration of what that even means.”
Through that process, he was able to answer whether the creative block was genuine or “the excuse we tell ourselves when we don’t have it at that moment.” He realized he simply needed to live a little more. “I just needed life experiences,” he shares. “I needed to figure out who I was as a person and how that affects the music. When you figure out life, then it informs the art.”
Henshaw is no stranger to using his craft as a means to figure something out; the aptly titled Sound Experiment was just that. He told Rated R&B in 2015, “I didn’t know what I wanted to do as an artist, and people kept asking me what my sound was. I couldn’t really tell them, because I like a lot of different styles, and I was experimenting a lot at the time with different sounds… hence the title ‘The Sound Experiment.’”
Fast forward to 2026. It Could Be Worse, Henshaw’s most realized work to date, is informed by personal hardship. He worked on the album amid a difficult breakup, which turned out to be its main catalyst, on top of grieving the loss of his grandmother. It was a lot of emotional weight to bear, but he poured it all into the music. “I was processing it all in real time,” Henshaw says, now with his camera, wearing a white t-shirt and a distressed camouflage baseball cap.
Executive produced by Josh Grant, It Could Be Worse is a soul album at its core. Recorded in Los Angeles with live instrumentation, it folds together Latin-tinged congas, swirling flutes, resonant bass, orchestral strings, warm keys, regal horns and analog synths of the late ‘60s and ‘70s. Mixed by Grant and mastered by Nathan Dantzler, the album preserves the textures that audiophiles crave and easily fills a room with its lush sound. It’s one of those albums you play on your turntable while cleaning on a Saturday morning or relaxing on a Sunday.
Across 11 tracks, Henshaw chronicles a deteriorating relationship with all the angst that comes from it, softened by a sense of hope. On “Don’t Give It Up,” he tries to comfort his partner experiencing hardship, while “Closer” acknowledges the ache of the growing distance between them. “Stay on the Move” is a motivational anthem for resilience that sums up the album’s thesis: the challenges we face are temporary and the only way through is to keep pushing forward. “What don’t kill me feeds my soul,” Henshaw sings.
Over the next hour, Henshaw discusses the breakup that shaped It Could Be Worse, how his mother’s resilience influenced the album’s optimism, why he insists on hope in his music, and why he released it on vinyl first.
It Could Be Worse is definitely a soul album. There’s such a rawness in your voice paired with the instrumentation. How do you maintain ‘that feeling’ in your music?
I got to give credit to Josh [Grant]. When you truly know a person, you know how they work [and] how to encourage them. I think those things you mentioned come from years of working with Josh and him not just understanding me currently, but maybe the me who doesn’t know he needs the thing he can’t see just yet.
What would you say Josh Grant brought out of you when working on It Could Be Worse?
He helped me give less of a shit about what happens outside of making the music. In the past, I’ve always gone, “How does this get me the hit?” I was thinking about the marketing before I figured out the sentiment of the song. With this record, we wrote before we recorded because we knew we were going to record the album with a live band. It was like, “What are you going through? Let’s start there.” It was the most valuable lesson I learned from that process.
The album explores the aftermath of a breakup. What was going through your mind in those early sessions — did you have time to process it before you started, or was it happening as you worked?
That was a mad experience for me because we had broken up, and the following day, I was in the studio. I was processing it all in real time. There’s a bunch of songs that didn’t make the album because some of them, I’m just angry and chatting shit. I look back at those like, “This would’ve been insane to put out.” It’s not a true reflection of how I feel now, but it was definitely where I was at. When you are processing emotions, you go through all of them.
What does the album’s title, It Could Be Worse, represent for you?
Optimism. Faith. It also represents patience in the process, not rushing to get to the end of something. Go through what you need to experience so you can come to a well-rounded conclusion.
Does that optimistic mindset come naturally to you, or was that something you learned through the process?
I always wanted to make sure I put some level of hope in my music, regardless of where I was. It can’t always be like, “Oh, I need to vent,” and there not be anything for the people [listening]. Art will live forever, and it goes way beyond any of us. One of the biggest inspirations for this record was my mom. This album is pretty much dedicated to and inspired by her.
During the time when the breakup happened, I also lost my grandma. We lost a bunch of family members afterwards on my mom’s side. It was in a short space of time. Every time I spoke to my mom about everything she was going through, she always approached it with such optimism; she didn’t have a negative word to say. She always found something to be grateful for.
The album opens with “Don’t Give It Up.” What was going through your mind when you wrote it?
I was working with Leven [Kali] and Josh [Grant]. This was just before my ex and I broke up. She was going through a hard time at work, and I didn’t know how I could have been of any service to her. We’d gotten into a conversation and things were a bit shaky. I didn’t know what to write about as well. This song was basically me trying to encourage her that everything’s going to be fine.
“Don’t Break My Heart” leans heavily into psychedelic soul. It instantly stands out because it sounds so different from the rest of the album. What did you want to achieve with that song?
That was the first song I had made for the album. I did that with Solomon Fox. I’ve always wanted to make something heavy on the bass and just weird synths and sounds and being able to change my vocal inflections a little bit. It was fun to try something different. When I’d written that one, that was a story of where I was at. It was [similar to] a conversation my ex and I had when we first met about the fear you have getting into something new; it’s like, “This is amazing, but please don’t let me down.”
You said “Get Back” was one of your favorites on the album. What triggered that nostalgia you’re singing about on that track?
The thing that initiated that song for me lyrically was actually quite political. I had seen on Instagram or somewhere that Trump had said or done something. I remember seeing comments talking about how they missed a time when it wasn’t this crazy, divided and confusing. I connected with that in so many ways. There was something interesting about that concept of people yearning to return to a time, as if they thought they didn’t do enough in those times, or stayed more in that moment. That was how we ended up with “Get Back.”
Earlier, you were speaking about optimism. “Stay on the Move” feels like that motivational song you play to get you through challenging times. Talk to me about that one.
That was at a point in the process where I had gotten to a place of understanding that shit happens. But the worst thing you can do is stop [and] be like, “All right, I’m done.” Two things can exist at the same time. It’s the idea that I can grieve, but I still have to keep getting on with it. My grandma dying and realizing that life still had to go on was nuts to me. At the same time, it was like, “I guess you have to because you don’t see what the other side looks like if you don’t.” That was an important one.
How do you stay creatively inspired when you’re going through the motions?
I’m learning to romanticize life more and giving my time to people and things that matter. Art imitates life, so I think having a life is important. I try to find joy in creativity outside of what I can gain from it monetarily. I want to enjoy creating for the sake of creating. Also, I’m enjoying things like reading books. I also go to the cinema a lot. Film is my thing.
What type of books and films are you into?
Currently, I’ve been reading Lisa Marie Presley’s memoir. I like reading autobiographical books and memoirs. I like learning about people. Maybe that’s my balance from reading comic books. Films, I’ll watch anything I’m really into. I’m trying to watch more independent arthousey stuff. I’m loving watching older stuff. I recently watched the original [1963] version of Highest 2 Lowest, the film Spike Lee just re-did with Denzel [Washington]. It’s in black and white, and it’s gorgeous.
Is there a song on the album that took you out of your comfort zone?
“Don’t Break My Heart” was definitely something a bit out of my comfort zone, from a vocal perspective. I don’t really sing in my falsetto. I don’t think I sound good there, so I don’t use it much in my music. And getting over that and being like, “This is going to serve the song, so do it.”
You initially released the album exclusively on vinyl. What statement did you want to make?
I’ll start with streaming platforms — the people that have the ability to help artists, musicians, singers, songwriters, producers, live off their art are doing the complete opposite. They’re making it harder for people to live off of their work, and they’re taking from them. I’m not trying to be an activist, but I am like, “Look, it’s messed up. How do we find a solution that doesn’t put us in this position of needing to rely on them?” You find yourself struggling to do things because someone else is in control or is dictating how you can put out music. I wanted to see if there was something else that could be done.
The other side to that was we made an album. There was no point when we were working on this project where we were like, “This is going to be the single.” If I had it my way, we wouldn’t have put any singles out. I would’ve released the project as a body of work. For us, it was a matter of, “If this is an album and we want people in a day and age where they don’t listen to albums as much, how are we intentional about making sure they do?” We put out a vinyl because you can’t skip. It worked out really well. It shows that a lot of people still care about that sort of thing.
What message do you want to leave with listeners on It Could Be Worse?
Honestly, keeping some form of hope. The world is very weird at the moment. It might get a little worse, but I think remembering it probably could be worse than however bad it gets is an important thing to hold onto.
Listen to Samm Henshaw’s It Could Be Worse here. Get tickets to his world tour here.