Ten years ago, I set up a football group with some friends. Every Sunday, we’d get together and bring along our younger brothers, cousins and anyone else we knew who was “distracted” by the roads. For a couple of hours, we’d put our hearts into the game, using the energy of football to keep ourselves grounded. It was more than just playing; it became a space where we could breathe, be ourselves and leave any baggage on the field. And sometimes, after a good match, those of us who were carrying struggles found it easier to open up, to share what was going on behind the scenes of our lives.
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Football has a way of bringing out that vulnerability. When we’re out there, we’re just men, brothers, no pretenses. It reminds me of the power in gathering, in being part of something bigger than ourselves, and it’s also taught me the importance of creating spaces for honesty and openness. In my own life, I’ve found that just like that weekly game, music has this ability to open us up and make space for healing. Music goes deeper, though – it’s vibration, frequency. It’s a way of expressing things we don’t always have words for.
As men, there’s this unspoken rule that vulnerability is weakness, that spirituality is soft, but I’ve come to see that it’s in our willingness to go inward that we find real strength. In my music, I try to encourage that journey, to remind us that it’s OK to feel, to be in tune with ourselves. The more we’re able to connect with our inner world, the stronger we become for those around us. Vulnerability isn’t about breaking down; it’s about releasing what holds us back and finding ways to rise together. That’s the energy I put into my music – to create a safe space where healing happens through the beat, the words, the energy.
I’m always learning. In my role as a father, as a musician, as a Rastaman, I find myself going back to that place of openness. My album, The Divine Trinity, reflects this, exploring the power of music as medicine and sound as a way to uplift. Music isn’t just notes and rhythm; it’s life’s energy transformed. For me, creating these frequencies is part of what keeps me grounded, and my hope is that it offers the same peace, strength, and release to those who listen.
So, to the men reading this, know that it’s not weakness to feel, to ask for help, or to find peace in stillness. Whether it’s through a game, a meditation, or a song, make space for that inner work. We’re stronger for it, together.
Natty’s latest album The Divine Trinity is out now.
