Interview by Passion Dzenga
After more than a decade of bars, radio sets, side quests and underground graft, Window Kid has finally hit the kind of moment that looks sudden from the outside — even though it’s been years in the making. Long before the nominations, sold-out tours and breakout singles, Greg was building his name the old way: on local radio, in club smoking areas, on pirate-energy sets and alongside some of the most vital names in UK rave culture. What makes his rise feel so deserved is that none of it sounds manufactured. Whether he’s shelling a grime beat, fronting a garage anthem or filming YouTube content, there’s still something unmistakably DIY about the way he moves.
Now, with a DJ Mag Best MC/Vocalist win under his belt, a huge Sir Spyro link-up in motion and a new chapter shaped by sobriety, self-reflection and sharper songwriting, Window Kid feels more open-ended than ever. In this conversation, he reflects on ten years in the underground, the reality of building a career out of chaos, and why getting sober didn’t close the door on his creativity — it opened the whole house.
You’ve had a monumental year already — tours, Australia, awards, nonstop shows. How have you been holding up through it all?
Yeah, it’s been non-stop, but in a good way. We’ve had the UK tours, then Australia, then the awards, then more shows straight after. So it’s definitely busy, but it’s the kind of busy you can’t really complain about. It’s a blessing.
A lot of people are only just now catching on, but you’ve really put your time in. Before all of this, before the awards and the bigger stages, what was Window Kid when it first began?
Window Kid originally was just a lad spitting bars on his lunch break instead of playing football. Then it became me spitting in people’s ears in smoking areas outside clubs and bars — just doing what everyone was doing, getting mashed up and chatting bars. At the same time, I was DJing and producing as well, mostly because I thought girls didn’t like MCs. I’d be on the radio or on the decks somewhere and people would start telling me, “Window, spit a bar.” Then I’d spit, and people clocked that I was actually alright. From there, it just slowly built. The lads around me in Nottingham kept telling me, “You need to get on a tune. You need to make a track.” That’s when it started becoming more serious.
So before Window Kid became a recording artist, you were already building inside DJ and radio culture?
Yeah, definitely. I used to run a radio show in Nottingham called The Window Show. I didn’t really know loads of MCs or producers in Nottingham at the time — I just liked the idea of creating somewhere people could come and practice, really. I’d be on the decks and MCs could pull up and spray bars.
It was on a station called Local Motive at the time, and once I started doing it, loads of Nottingham MCs began jumping on. Snowy, Kyeza, Mez — all them lot. That was really when I started becoming part of the scene properly. Then I started taking it outside the station, doing events around it, and because I was so involved, people began realising I could actually spit myself. That’s kind of when it all started taking shape.
It sounds like you were building your own infrastructure in Nottingham, rather than waiting for someone to give you one.
Yeah, kind of. There probably were other people doing their thing, but I wasn’t really deeply tapped into the old scene like that. I wasn’t jumping on JDZ Media or Grime Daily or SBTV early on. I was more in the background, more of a fan of the music than someone moving around in those circles. So I kind of had to start my own thing.
When does it shift from bars on sets and freestyles into proper songs — actual records with structure, hooks, ideas bigger than a 16?
That really started with Snowy, to be honest. He was the one who wouldn’t leave me alone about it. He kept saying, “You need to get on a track.” He basically forced me into the studio and made me record something. I made a tune called “Ben Stiller” that never actually came out, but it gave me confidence.
Then Brucey reached out and said he wanted to make a tune with me. Bru-C had a buzz already, and we ended up making tunes like “5 Bet” and “Hide the Ting.” Once those started getting some numbers, that’s when I realised I could actually make songs — not just spit bars, but make actual records people connected with.
I never really overthought it, though. I just spat whatever was on my mind. Grime, garage, bassline, dubstep — whatever I was feeling that day.
And after that comes the touring period — Crewcast, Bru-C, Darkzy, Skepsis. That chapter really put you on the road.
Yeah, exactly. I toured with Crucast, Bru-C and Darkzy, and I hosted for Darkzy for years. We were constantly on the road — six, maybe seven years of that kind of lifestyle. But I always knew I’d eventually have to step out on my own, because I always wanted to release my own music and build something as my own artist.
I loved hosting for Darkzy, but over time my own songs started getting traction, my socials started growing, and I got to a point where I had enough music for a live set and enough people listening for that to actually make sense. So I broke away and started touring as myself.
That’s quite a leap though — going from host and hype man energy into carrying a full show on your own.
Yeah, but it felt natural by then. It didn’t feel like jumping off a cliff. I’d already built up the songs, the crowd, the confidence. Once everything lined up, it was just time.
Your sound has always sat in an interesting middle ground — grime, garage, bassline, dubstep, rap, internet culture, all of it. Where do you feel like you fit now?
The fun thing is, I don’t really feel boxed into one place now. I’ve shown enough respect to all the different sides of it, and I genuinely love all of them. I can go do a grime show with Novelist and Flirta D, then roll into a drum & bass rave and shell a tune like “Put That Kettle On” with Bou, then go film some YouTube content with joke YouTube guys.
I’ve always just stayed in my own lane, had a laugh, and made sure I never disrespected anyone or forced myself into a scene I didn’t belong in. So now I can kind of pop in and out of all these worlds and it still makes sense.
And that probably explains why people don’t just see you as “a genre act” anymore — they just see you as an MC.
Yeah, maybe. I think that’s fair. I don’t really know where I fit exactly, but I know I can move about now, and that feels good.
Do you think your sound matured naturally, or did sobriety really change the way you write and think about music?
Sobriety definitely changed it. Before that, I was partying too heavily and drinking too much, and I got to a point where I was basically forcing myself into the studio every few months trying to make another “Boozy.” Because that tune was streaming well, I started thinking in a very narrow way — like, how do I make another party song?
And I lost myself a bit, if I’m honest. When I first had to go sober, I actually panicked because I thought, “What am I going to write about now?” So much of what I’d written before was about drinking, taking gear, being off my head. I genuinely thought the whole thing might be over. But it turned out to be the opposite. It opened way more doors. Suddenly, I could write about anything.
That’s a huge shift — because before, a lot of your records had that humour and chaos to them, but now you’re making songs with real emotional weight.
Yeah, exactly. After Christmas I wasn’t seeing my boys much because a lot of them were out drinking and I still had to avoid that. So I wrote this tune just sitting on my sofa about not seeing my mates enough. It had this bittersweet feeling to it — happy because I love them, sad because I missed them. And Jason Williamson from Sleaford Mods heard it and said he wanted to jump on it.
That kind of thing proved to me that I could write in a totally different way now. And really, it started with “Lost Myself” with Nathan Dawe & Shapes — that was the first time I made something that felt very different emotionally, and it ended up being my first charting record. So that told me a lot.
When you go into the studio now, how do you know whether you’re making something funny, something introspective, something for the rave?
I genuinely don’t know until I’m there. I never really plan it. In normal life, that can be a bit of a problem because I can doss about and not do much, but in the studio, it works in my favour because I’ll just go in and something will happen. JJ and Gaz, who record me a lot, always say I’m so creative with the stuff I come up with in the room.
One day I’ll make a grime tune, the next I’ll make something sad, the next it’ll be pure chaos for the rave. It literally depends on how I feel on the day. I just go to the studio and see what happens.
That brings us nicely to the new tune with Sir Spyro, “Badboy Sound.” How did that one come together?
Spyro and I have been good mates for years now, ever since I did the Sounds of the Verse thing where I had that “lots and lots and lots” lyric. We always stayed in contact. He’s in my top three producers of all time, easy.
We’d linked before, years back — me, Spyro and Champion were in the studio once — but that was during the period when I was drinking too much and trying too hard to make party music, so nothing really happened. This time was different. I was so excited to work with him properly. We went into the Sony studio in London and I was basically egging him on like, “Do that Spyro shit. Put some Spyro noises in there.” He started going one way with it and I was like, “No, bro, do the mad Spyro thing.” Then within minutes, he built this absolutely stupid beat.
The mad thing is, I’d already written some grime bars a couple of months before, and I deliberately kept them aside because I thought, “These are for Spyro.” So the second that beat was there, I knew exactly what I was doing. I’d heard him making all these dubstep bits too — which were cold — but I always wanted that proper Spyro grime beat from him. That was a dream from way back.
When you collaborate with people from very specific corners of UK music — grime, garage, dubstep, drum & bass — does your process change depending on who you’re with?
Yeah and no. It’s different every time. Sometimes I hear the beat first and write to it, sometimes I write first and then swap the beat later. Like with “Cardigan,” I must have changed the beat about five times. Management was sick of me. They kept saying, “Please just make something else,” and I kept saying, “Trust me.” Then it became one of my biggest songs.
So there’s no fixed formula. But yeah, when it’s someone like Spyro, there’s definitely more pressure because you really want to leave with something sick. If I go in with a random producer and don’t like what comes out, whatever. But if I’m in with Spyro and don’t leave with a banger, I’m going home pissed off.
Over the past few years, what do you feel you’ve improved at most as an artist?
Definitely the live show. Weirdly, I’ve taken a lot of inspiration from Robbie Williams. He’s one of my pals and I’ve seen him live a few times now. The way he works a crowd, tells stories between songs, plants little lines that lead into the next tune — I love that. He’ll start saying something and mention a lyric, and the crowd starts clocking what’s coming next before the tune even drops. That stuff is genius to me.
So I’ve been putting loads of thought into how my live show flows — how I speak between records, how I create little moments, how the crowd helps shape the energy. And doing all that sober has changed everything. I can actually see what’s going on now. I can feel the moment, remember the show, and make decisions in real time. I think my live set is the best it’s ever been.
Do you actually rehearse a lot or is it more trial and error on stage?
We never rehearse. Ever. We just try things live. If we’ve got an idea, we say, “Let’s test it tonight.” If it works, it stays. If it doesn’t, we change it next week. Because I’m doing at least one show a week at the minute, the show is kind of constantly evolving anyway.
You recently took that show to Australia and New Zealand too. How did it feel outside the UK?
Honestly, it was unbelievable. They appreciate UK culture and UK music so much over there that it means a lot when you actually go. The crowds were just so warm and excited. Every venue felt different too — one felt like a jazz bar, another felt like a uni club, another felt more like a theatre — but the energy was amazing every night.
We sold the whole tour out and it ended up being one of the best months of my life. I can’t wait to go back.
And that trip happened while you were still very new into sobriety. Were you worried about that?
Massively. I was genuinely panicking for about two months before we went. I thought I’d land and just want to drink the entire time. I thought I’d be craving it every day and it would ruin the trip. But it didn’t happen like that at all.
We were getting up early, getting juices, going on walks, going to the beach, having naps, seeing animals, just actually living. If I was still drinking, I would’ve done none of that. I’d have just been getting smashed and wasting the whole experience. So it was actually one of those moments where I really realised the change had already happened in me.
And that seems to connect to that trip you took with Marshall as well — which felt very human online, not forced at all.
Yeah, that was a special one. Marshall’s more of a social media guy, but we followed each other and I knew his story. His wife had died, Faye, and a lot of his content was about grief and living through that. He asked if I’d get involved in a fundraiser for the charity connected to the cancer she had, and I said yes straight away. Then I just said, “Do you want to go on holiday?” and he said yeah.
We ended up going to Slovenia, to Lake Bled, and just filmed some stuff together. It kind of blew up online, but what it really was, was just two blokes both trying to figure out life in different ways. His grief was obviously much heavier than anything I was going through, but there was still this shared feeling of trying to navigate a new chapter. It was emotional, funny, sad, uplifting — all of it. And we came back proper mates.
That’s probably why it resonated. It felt real. Nothing about it felt manufactured.
Yeah, because it was real. That’s all it was.
Do you ever feel like you’re “performing” online or in your music, or is it all just Greg?
It’s just me. Honestly. I get why people ask because one minute I’m making an aggressive grime tune and the next I’m on YouTube eating Easter eggs or whatever. But that’s just how I am. I’ve always been like that. I’m not this mad badman, so obviously some of the bars come off funny as well, but none of it’s an act. It’s all just Greggy Boy.
And maybe that authenticity is exactly why you’ve managed to build a real independent career. What do people underestimate about doing it this way?
Maybe they underestimate how much you’ve actually got to live through to write like that. Like, if you’re writing party songs, you’ve actually got to be in that world. If you’re writing about missing your friends or losing yourself or figuring out sobriety, you’ve got to actually be going through that. None of it’s fake.
And now life’s changing all the time anyway. I’m getting stopped in the street constantly. The shows are bigger. Everything is shifting. So the music is naturally changing with it. That’s just how it works.
Over the next few months, what can people expect from you?
The YouTube channel is fully back. I’ve just put out the UK tour vlog, the Australia vlogs are coming, and I’m doing more content with some massive YouTube names as well. I feel like the live show is in a really strong place now — I’ve got enough songs, enough bangers — so I can let that breathe a bit while still going studio.
And the tune I’m most excited about right now is one I’ve made with P Money, Local and Kruz Leone. It’s called “Levitate,” produced by Frost, and it is absolutely mental. Proper old-school grime-dubstep energy, all of us just going psycho on it. We’ve played it out twice already and it’s getting the biggest reaction of the set, and no one even knows it yet. So that one I’m really gassed about.
And longer-term, are we looking at a full project?
Yeah, definitely. I’m working on the album now. It’s actually not far off because I’ve got too many songs at this point. It’s more about quality control than output. I’m not even someone who goes to the studio all the time — I’m actually terrible for it — but over the years I’ve built up enough music from the party era, the emotional shift, and where I’m at now, that I can really see the shape of an album.
I want it to be a proper concept too. Like that OutKast Speakerboxxx feeling — one side is getting fucked up, one side is not getting fucked up anymore. That’s the idea.
That feels like a very Window Kid way to make a concept record — honest, funny, but still heavy.
Yeah, exactly. That’s the plan.
Last one. If you could go back and speak to young Greg — before all of this, before the tours, before the blow-up — what would you tell him?
I’d tell him: you always knew you had it in you, so keep going. But also, for God’s sake, don’t drink so much. And if you feel like you’ve got demons, really look at them. Ask for help if you need it. Don’t think you’ve got to do everything alone. This life isn’t exactly standard. Being in the public eye, constantly touring, constantly moving — it can get strange. So if you need a helping hand, just ask for it. Don’t overthink that bit.
“Badboy Sound,” produced by Sir Spyro, feels like the meeting point between everything Window Kid has built over the years and where he’s heading now. It’s sharp, direct and built for the moment. Listen to the track now.
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