JP Cooper on Just A Few Folk, Manchester roots and letting go of chasing chart success

After the success of his critically acclaimed 2017 debut album, Raised Under Grey Skies, which features his huge hit, September Song, Mancunian singer-songwriter JP Cooper started getting notions. With his new album, Just A Few Folk, he’s keeping his feet firmly on the ground, choosing to make a record for the few, instead of the masses.

“For a while, I probably did try to fit into the role I found myself in,” admits Cooper, who’s calling from his car from somewhere on the M25 after dropping his sister off at the airport. 

“I see it now with a lot of artists who get a little success – it’s interesting watching how they navigate that. They start wearing clothes differently, changing themselves a bit. I definitely went through that. An Irishman once told me that when he moved to America, people back home in Ireland would say, ‘Oh, you’re getting notions,’ which I guess means you’re picking up airs. I probably got a bit of that – not Americanisms exactly, but I felt like I needed to be more than what I was.”

When rubbing shoulders with stars at awards ceremonies, Cooper never felt quite like he belonged, despite his early success. “Things that were always a bit awkward,” he recalls. “I’m not great with new people in big crowds; I tend to blend into the background and just people-watch. Sometimes conversations finish a bit awkwardly, and I don’t quite know what to do – I’m just a bit awkward,” he laughs. 

“Looking back, I don’t really care about that anymore. I love a Wetherspoons – I don’t need bougie hipster coffee or a members’ club. There’s no real culture in those places. I love the council estate greasy spoon with a Greek family running it, where you can get bacon and eggs and a bit of kebab on the side if you fancy it. That’s where you find stories and culture.”

These days, in his life and his music, he’s focusing on the important things in life. Cooper is a husband and a father of two, and when it comes to his new album, Just A Few Folk, he’s no longer chasing mass approval or obsessing over chart positions.

“Now I’m gravitating more towards what’s real, and also scrutinising myself for what’s real within me,” he nods. “It’s a really interesting time; a cross-section of youth and experience that’s a rich pool to draw from. I’m trying to make the most of it while juggling children, who sap the life out of you and are amazing at the same time. It’s a fascinating, chaotic mix.”

The grey skies referenced in his debut album name are Manchester’s. A city known for its toughness, Cooper grew up in a strong working-class area where the unwritten rule was simple: don’t draw attention to yourself. Yet he was always drawn to doing things differently. 

His father, a painter, found solace in art after the loss of Cooper’s mother when he was young, and that creative influence ran deep. As the youngest of five, with four sisters, those early surroundings nurtured a strong appreciation for emotion and creativity.

“The artsy types where I grew up didn’t walk around with our heads held high,” he points out. “It wasn’t until I hit my teens that I realised talking about art or poetry wasn’t really something boys did. I had a group of friends who were into music, probably more than I was, and they became my circle. 

"We used to wear our hair differently and dress differently from the local lads, and we’d get a bit of stick. I was on the sports team, though, so I was lucky enough to be somewhere in between,” he grins.

A teenager in Manchester at the turn of the millennium, he was swept up in regional enthusiasm for music spurred by the emergence of bands like Oasis, and the accessibility of open mic nights, healthy local competition, seeing other bands, and watching the likes of Stereophonics.

Cooper began to feel drawn to local bars to check out their indie nights. “I had a fake ID, looking far too young to be believable – a bit of a McLovin situation,” he quips – Mancunian wit still sharp. 

“I found myself in a rich, competitive environment full of other bands to aspire to or try to outdo. I found my place, built communities, and spent many years trying to make it in bands.

Manchester wasn’t exactly a place to be different when I was younger – definitely not in the ’90s, but it was an amazing place to cut your teeth. There were so many independent venues back then, open mic nights, rehearsal spaces. Old cotton mills, half-empty, were taken over for practice, random raves, gigs, and nights. It was an incredible time.”

When he had his breakthrough with radio-friendly September Song in 2017, which has now racked up over 1 billion global streams, Cooper was finding his feet in the music industry. These days, he looks at the much-changed industry through a wiser lens.

“A lot of it has migrated to TikTok and social media, which I probably would have had a field day with when I was younger. Now, though, I feel a little out of my depth as a slightly older gentleman,” he laughs – aged only 42. “I prefer to be behind the camera,” he continues.

“Anything performative feels insincere to me, and I think that probably comes from the environment I grew up in. It wasn’t a place for showing off – it was about keeping your head down and being one of the good lads. Being seen as a decent, cool guy, the ‘Boy Next Door,’ was more respected than being cocky or a show-off, unless, of course, you were someone like Liam Gallagher, and everyone loved you because you had something to say and said it brilliantly. I was never really like that socially, so I learned to keep my head down and stay to myself. I’ve never been a socialite, hanging around with the who’s who; I just keep to myself.”

Cooper admits this approach hasn’t necessarily helped his career in the past, but that he’s now at a place where he only wants to release music he’d actually listen to, and that chasing fame and numbers couldn’t be further from his thoughts. Just A Few Folk is the culmination of those years of finding his feet as an artist and sharing those passions with his long-time fans.

“I’ll be completely honest, I’d reached a point in my career where my first album had huge commercial success. My second album came out as we were coming out of COVID. I think it’s a great record, but it didn’t do the numbers, it didn’t get the radio play, none of that. By the time I started thinking about the third album, I was like, what’s the point in trying to make songs that are part radio-friendly, part for me, when they might not even get played? You end up losing twice. Whereas if I make something I love and it doesn’t do anything, I’ve still won; I’ve made something I can stand behind.

“I realised that nobody can really orchestrate hits anymore,” he continues. “Sure, if you throw enough money at things, you can buy algorithmic openings, but in general, even the industry has no idea what the next big thing will be. That’s exciting, actually, because there are so many outliers in the global top 50. 

"So I thought, why try to write songs to please the label or radio when that doesn’t make me happy? I’ll just keep doing what lights me up, and I know my day-ones will respond. I’m not suddenly going to make some completely experimental album; it’ll still have my thread running through it, but I can follow what excites me.”

He didn’t mince his words with the label: if he was going to do another album, he would not chase radio. “I don’t want the pressure of week-one sales,” he explains. “That isn’t the record I want to make. Albums are dying anyway; people don’t listen to them like they used to. I don’t even listen to them like I used to; my attention span is probably shrinking. 

"But I wanted one last crack at making the album I had in me at the time, without it being compromised by the climate. It’s a case of releasing it and hoping it finds its place in people’s hearts. Hopefully, it’ll pay enough to keep the lights on and allow me to do the next record. That’s a place I can be genuinely happy with, rather than constantly running on a treadmill.”

Just A Few Folk is the first time Cooper has fully trusted his individuality as an artist, and includes the most personal collection of music he has ever made. He sounds as good as you remember, peppering soulful melodies with intricate runs that make you want to skip back to hear them again. The album speaks of everyday stories and experiences: family bonds, personal relationships and ordinary moments.

Song approaches a breakup from a reflective angle, reframing heartache. On Waiting on a Blue Sky, he looks back on memories of growing up in Middleton, and the blissed-out lead single, Summer of Love, blends retro soul and ’70s-inspired grooves with Cooper’s signature buttery vocals.

“There was also pressure from myself to prove I was an album artist – that my music wasn’t just fast food, nicely polished for mass consumption,” he says of the time he was pondering how to follow up his huge debut. “I’ve always wanted to dive deeper into my own projects. The second album felt like one foot in one world and one foot in the other. 

"This third album feels like the closest I’ve come to putting my DNA into something. I’ve realised that chasing external validation – playing the Capital Summertime Ball, being on the radio – didn’t really satisfy me in terms of how I felt about myself. I connect very deeply to my work, and I think a lot of people do. That’s part of who I am, but chasing commercial success alone didn’t fulfil me. Even in writing rooms and in the creative process, I want to follow my dopamine.”

By this point in his career, Cooper feels he has finally worked out how to make a record that truly reflects who he is. A conversation about only releasing songs worthy of being played at one’s own funeral prompted him to think more seriously about legacy, about what a piece of music leaves behind and what message it carries once the moment has passed. That idea quietly became a guiding thread through the project.

You can hear it most clearly on the title track, Just A Few Folk. Recorded in South Africa with the Durban Gospel Choir, the song swells with traditional soul progressions beneath JP’s smooth, soulful delivery. 

At its core is a simple but powerful idea: the hope, joy and strength that come from finding people who truly connect with what you create, and the realisation that reaching a handful of listeners in a meaningful way can matter more than reaching everyone at once. Sonically, he harks to his roots in gospel, and for the first time experiments with a unique recording process alongside the help of album producer Cam Blackwood.

“Creatively, it’s been amazing,” enthuses Cooper. “The two of us were in the studio every day, and it was an absolute joy. Every single day, I turned up, excited for what was going to happen. I really feel like I’ve finally learned how to make an album. With my first couple of albums, it was more a case of writing a bunch of songs and piecing them together, with multiple producers involved. 

"Now, I understand how to make a record, how to create a cohesive collection of songs, and pull it all together as a project. That’s been incredible – in terms of learning, growth, and chasing what lights me up. I’m focused on what I do really well, on getting into the nitty-gritty, the detail, so that when it’s received, it doesn’t just sound like someone trying to make commercial music. It’s not about that for me.”

Cooper recorded the project at Toe Rag Studios in East London, sans computers, just pure instrumentalists, band, and the artist singing in the centre of the room. Recordings were deliberately left imperfect.

“It’s where The White Stripes recorded Elephant,” he says. “It wasn’t expensive to hire; we could bring in the band, and because there were no computers or click tracks, I was literally standing in the middle of the room with the players around me. 

"The songs had been sent to them the week before on purpose, so they weren’t ingrained. It was about remembering the song and really being dialled in. Accidents happened, there was space for magic,” he says, adding that it took him back to his teenage band days.

“I started in rubbish rehearsal spaces with my friends and a bad PA system. This setup wasn’t that, but it felt like being back with my mates, making music again. We captured all that energy – the push and pull of people playing together. 

"In a time when AI is on the rise and more people are using it in music, I felt it was vital to make people hear the fingertips on the bass, feel the room, and experience that human touch. This is the beauty of collaboration, of working with people, and the reason I don’t use AI to create music. It will never replace those experiences.”

The sublime, You Give Me Life, was one of the first songs written for the project, and those with keen hearing can hear noises in the room, breath between lines, fingers on fretboards and movement of piano pedals under Cooper’s soulful lilt, giving a delicious bleed and melding of sounds.

“The choral arrangement is just incredible,” he says. “It’s probably the closest I’ll get to doing something like a Ray Charles song. I knew then that the record needed something at that standard. And it delivers. 

"It is never going to be played on the radio or be a huge hit single – maybe it could work in a sync – but it’s the level I aspired to. It doesn’t have a big, soaring chorus; it almost just lands on the words: ‘You give me life’. I think it’s going to be a really special song for a lot of people.”

The album also features a duet with a millennial favourite: Gabrielle. On Sad Song, Cooper was thrilled to work with an artist he grew up listening to, and as one of the voices that shaped the soundtrack of his early years, it was something of a full-circle moment.

“I wanted it to be with someone whose music had been part of my life growing up; I wanted that sense of nostalgia,” he shares. “I’d actually met Gabrielle very briefly at a festival in Switzerland a few years ago. She was a sweetheart and very complimentary, which stuck with me. So we reached out to her. 

"I wasn’t there when she recorded her vocal, but when they sent it through, it was perfect: Gabrielle, exactly as she always sounds. She has this way of delivering a lyric that isn’t showy, but has a certain honesty.”

That suddenly reminds him he’s got a few TV performances coming up with Gabrielle to perform the new single. “Which is cool, because it’s been a while since I’ve been in those places. I’ll have to shave before then, though – I need to look like someone who should be on TV, and not just JP down the pub,” he laughs.

Cooper doesn’t have plans for any big tour to promote the record, saying his arena days are behind him. “Touring is just getting harder and harder for artists,” he notes. ‘It's becoming really difficult to make it work financially, especially abroad, particularly in America. So I’ve decided to focus on making music and continuing to create. 

"If there comes a point where I need to hit the road, then I’ll do it. I’ve got a wife and kids at home. I’m not hanging up my touring boots by any means, but this year feels like a time to focus on creation. I’d love to release another project this year, even if it’s just a small collection of songs rather than a full album.”

Spying a tunnel up ahead, he pulls into a service station to finish the interview. “I love making music more than I ever have,” he rhapsodises. “Right now, I’m obsessed – literally from the moment I get up in the morning to when I go to bed, I want to dive straight into whatever project I’m working on. 

"There’s this constant hunger to learn more, too, which isn’t something I had at the start, and I’m really grateful for that. Even though I’ve had commercial success, and I’m not expecting anything crazy off the back of this, I feel like I’ve yet to make my best work.

“I go after whatever lights me up: words, sounds, chords, melodies, whatever makes me feel something. If I feel it, I have to believe a few other people will too. I hope a few people find the new album, share it, and over time it becomes part of the soundtrack of their lives,” he concludes. “I want it to go deeper rather than be a big flash in the pan, hitting everywhere at once. I think it will be more of a slow burn, but we shall see…”

Photographer: RYAN O_HARE