Some artists build worlds as much as they make music. For IZCO, that world is rooted in East London, shaped by pirate radio frequencies, soundsystem culture, community spaces and the rhythms of a city in constant motion. Over the last decade, the producer, DJ and Brighter Days Family co-founder has become a quietly vital presence within the UK’s underground, creating work that moves fluidly between garage, broken beat, jungle, jazz and soul while resisting easy categorisation.
His debut album, Powerscroft, marks a new chapter. Released via Brownswood Recordings, the project takes its name from the street where he grew up in Hackney, weaving together personal history with the collective memories and cultural influences that have informed his journey. “I’ve been putting out a lot of music for many years,” he says. “And when the opportunity came up to work with Brownswood, it kind of just all felt right.”
It wasn’t a dramatic turning point, more a practical one. Brownswood’s catalogue with Swindle, Mala, Roni Size meant something. “I’d wanted to work with them from time,” he says. “So when that came up, it was like… yeah. Motivation enough to put together something bigger for myself.”
Powerscroft named after the street he grew up on isn’t subtle about where it’s coming from. It’s the street that housed his studio, his collaborators, the early days of Brighter Days. “Everyone had come there over the years,” he reflects. “I was there my whole life up until a couple years ago… so it’s kind of marked the end of that chapter and the start of something new.”
That sense of place isn’t just in the title, it’s embedded in the details. The samples on the record aren’t abstract references; they’re tied to specific routines, specific people. “All the records I sampled, I bought them in Eldica. That’s where we’re always at on a Saturday,” he recalls, referring to the Dalston shop. Two samples anchor that feeling in particular: Webster Lewis’ ‘Heavenly‘ and Leroy Hutson’s ‘So In Love With You‘ aren’t crate-digging flexes, they’re records he’s lived with and rinsed properly. The latter has been knocking around his hard drive for years. “I’d remixed that Leroy Hutson tune loads of times,” he explains. “Just never been able to put it out.” Brownswood made that possible.
Despite pulling from jungle, garage, grime and soul, IZCO is quick to shut down any attempt to neatly categorise the album.
I tried not to think of it as different genres too much. I think more about the textures of the tunes… how it feels to absorb the songs. Like they’d all be in the same shop or something. From the same place.
That approach explains why Powerscroft moves the way it does between club-ready tracks and more introspective moments without ever feeling split. It’s not balance for the sake of it. “A lot of people know me for more clubby stuff,” he says. Despite his reputation, IZCO is quick to point out: “I don’t really make stuff for the club. I make it for listeners.” The fact that it still lands in a club is, with a small grin he says, “It’s a nice little bonus.”
Working with Brownswood helped. Less pressure to deliver peak-time tools, more space to let things sit. “I wouldn’t be expected to make a club record,” he says. Which, ironically, might be why parts of it hit harder when they do.
Time plays a big role here too. If the album feels cohesive despite pulling from different places and times, that’s because it quite literally does. Some of the material stretches back years. “The chord progression on ‘Bluebell‘ was probably like five years old, I just always knew I’d use it for something,” A vocal on ‘Guidance Star‘ is even older. At one point, he lost the entire project file for over a year. When it finally turned up, found by his cousin in about ten minutes – it slotted straight back into the album.
It’s a process built on patience, whether intentional or not. “I like to let the tunes finish themselves over time,” he says. “When I’m patient, the tune grows as you grow.” Rushing it, he adds, is obvious. “You can hear when parts are perfect and other parts are just me trying to finish it.”
Collaboration across the album follows the same logic. It’s long-term, organic, and built on trust rather than transactions. “Everyone on the album I’ve worked with extensively,” he says. “I’ve produced whole projects for them.” That changes the dynamic. “It’s not like I’m just taking a verse off them.” Everyone involved Reek0, Liam Bailey, Camille Munn is part of a wider working relationship.
Reek0, in particular, is central to the collaboration. “Reek0 helped me the most with the album, 100%,” IZCO emphasises. “He was someone who was really invested… helping me put things together.” Camille’s vocals thread through the record in a similar way, her voice reappearing across multiple tracks.
That sense of familiarity bleeds into how IZCO hears music in general.
Sometimes it’s visual, a lot of songs have a colour but more often it’s tied to people. I’m picturing who I made it with.
Which explains why Powerscroft feels less like a solo debut and more like a shared space.
He describes the album as “what it feels like to be in my mind,” which, by his own admission, isn’t always straightforward. “There’s a lot going on up there,” he says. “A lot of sounds that repeat… like certain thoughts or feelings might repeat.” Other moments cut across more abruptly. “Things kind of flash across.”
But it’s not chaotic. Or at least, not unresolved. “If you can manage all that stuff together,” he says, “it can still be a good day. It can still sound nice.”
That same thinking shaped how the album translated live at Jazz Café. Initially, he considered performing it with a band and then scrapped the idea. “It would’ve basically been doing covers of the songs,” he says. “And I was like, nah… it’s too fresh for that.” Instead: a four-hour DJ set, folding the album into everything around it from unreleased tracks, alternate versions, even the original records he sampled, played live by the friend he bought them from. Collaborators drifted in and out. “When it was time for their tune, I’d be like, ‘yo’ and they’d jump on. The album expanded,” he says.
For all the moving parts, the takeaway he hopes people land on is simple. “If you make stuff yourself, I hope you feel bold enough to just do whatever’s true to you,” he says. “Don’t worry about greatest hits.”
And if you don’t make music? “I hope it’s just… a nice soundtrack for a nice day.”
Ask for a favourite track, and he doesn’t hesitate. “It changes,” he says, “but ‘Somebody Jump,’ that’s my favourite.”
Why? “It’s just one of the most unique songs… an accumulation of a lot of things that I love.”
Which is about as close as he gets to summing up Powerscroft itself.
The album is best enjoyed – in the fields, tinny and ciggie in hand, under the London sun and surrounded by your mates.
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Listen to ‘Powerscroft’ here
Words: Vee Pandey
Photography: Melissa Gardner