How Depression Got Tuka To Where He Is In Hip Hop

It’s a surreal feeling when one of your favourite rappers answers your phone call… "Hello this is Tuka of Thundamentals," he answers cheekily. After the last edition of pRhymetime: AEST, I reached out to Tuka in hopes of discovering his personal take on mental health in Australian hip hop. When he kindly obliged, I was invited into a conversation with Brendan Tuckerman on how his hardship with depression had led him to being one of Australia’s biggest hip hop names.

It’s difficult to imagine an artist of such showmanship could have experienced such mental health issues... "The thing about depression is that when you experience something traumatic, the neuro-pathways in your mind sort of grow a ‘branch.’ A lot of people don’t even know they’ve had it because they’ve been angry for so long they didn’t see it slide into depression. One of the biggest penny-drop moments for me was when I realised the inner dialogue (or ego) you have in your head is not necessarily who you are as a person... When I could differentiate and understand that, it was a huge milestone moment for me in starting a healing process."

It seems what we’re seeing again here is a misunderstanding of depression not just as an emotion, but as an actual illness. Would people reach out to you when you were feeling the darker effects of depression or did you ever have to remove yourself from situations/people that were bringing you down? "I’m a performer, but I’m actually an introvert at heart and my friends would notice when I took myself away from being around them... I grew up surrounded by people from all walks of life and socio-economic demographics. At one point I was even a Tafe teacher at Outreach… I can pretty easily move away from people that I don’t agree with. But my thing is social outlook and personal pressures... It’s such an individual process. I don’t even like diagnosing and self-diagnosing that often. Everyone is so different. It really is your own battle, if you’re willing to talk to people about it, then talk to people about it. You are the only person with a choice on the whole issue."

I could hear the strong sense of self Tuka has even through a phone line. It felt like the emotional times he was discussing had softened the arrogant bravado hip hop is known for. That’s not to say he personally was ever ‘gangsta’ but defending oneself in a cut-throat industry (need I mention rap battles are won by verbally criticising your opponent, for example) could no doubt leave this ‘ego’ battered and bruised. "You can’t care too much what people think... even with the track we did on Tuesday, Change The Date, there are a whole bunch of privileged white men going in on me calling me a fuckhead kinda thing. That doesn’t bother me, but if I was younger I would find that quite threatening... Now, I’m my own harshest critic."

It’s truly inspiring when a white male can recognise his privilege, especially in a genre that is a voice of the disadvantaged, deprived and the disenfranchised. After listening to the Thundamentals' recent single Ignorance Is Bliss I questioned Tuka on whether he felt responsible as an artist to utilise his platform: whether once you're in the public eye, does it become a duty to be educating others?

"Oh nah! It would be way easier for me, as a white privileged man to make love song after love song after love song. Play it safe, not tell people my opinions and political agenda, I’d probably make a lot more money!"

I didn’t want to ask an obvious question, but as a rapper what does Tuka do to cope with social pressures and depression? (please don’t say writing, please don’t say writing)

"...Writing (Dammit! Good interview question Antixx!). The beauty of writing is that when it goes out into the ether you get this connection of 'he/she’s talking me through what they’re going through.' I find it kind of therapeutic. When you can relate to other people going through a similar situation it helps bring perspective. Depression and anxiety puts you in an isolated kind of romance with yourself; that no one feels like you. It’s actually the complete opposite! As we uncover more about these things it’s very prominent and hugely widespread, especially in men and more specifically indigenous men. Suicide rates are incredibly high in our country which is... damning... considering how lucky we are to live here.

"What I like to give people in my music is the whole emotional spectrum. Happiness, sadness, glee, joy, the darkness, show everything! The human experience is so complex if you allow yourself to feel. Some people like harder things that others don’t. If anything I want to make my own genre!"

I’ve spoken to artists like Remi and Birdz in the past who have addressed racism in tracks and received blatantly racists comments back. What a fucking slap in the face to a heartfelt experience, I remarked. "Man! I can’t fathom what Thelma [Plum], Briggs and Remi get… there are motherfuckers out there who can’t deal with their own hatred and troll these beautiful and creative people! These comments can absolutely eat you inside. If you’re aware of it, it’s hugely important to support these people that are expressing themselves. It was funny to think that I as a listener have a responsibility I hadn’t thought of before."

Perhaps the heavily lyrical content of rap can actually work on prevention vs. cure in hip hop? "That’s a really good question… but you don’t want to be corny… If you’re a really good artist then sure you can prevent people from going down that path… but you don’t want to point things out, you want to be artistic. Music therapy in a class room can really work, but if you’re an artist with lots of integrity that wants to make sophisticated music and still communicate to people that can’t understand what depression is..." Tuka trails off. "Look, to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t be in the situation I am now if I hadn’t had depression. It gave me more back, more perspective, a deeper appreciation. I’ve got more tools... I have a much bigger spectrum of emotion, a clearer understanding of the world I live in and the person I am."

By now I hope we’re starting to demonstrate that depression is not uncommon. In Australia in any one year, one million people will suffer from depression. With that perspective we can begin to address these issues and portray that asking for help is a step towards recovery. Is there advice that you can offer to these people? "Study well-being and open-mindedness. Understand the dynamic and relationship you have with yourself. If you’re feeling that [depression], people can absolutely help, but ultimately you have to do it. Some people need to talk, some people need to see a doctor, but YOU need to make a choice and empower yourself." From what I’ve already discovered over the past pRhymetime columns, that’s exactly what Australian hip hop is slowly evolving into. Its own creative variety of poetry, free from pre-conceived parameters and actively values and nurtures unique difference.

With your Remis, Briggs', Joelistics', Trooths, N’fas, Hilltops and Thundamentals (the roster is now bigger than it’s ever been), people aren’t afraid of being themselves and what people vibe with is that artists are just people trying to make a change in the world, the only way they know how. "Absolutely man! It’s becoming a lot more diverse now. Shows aren’t just the hip hop heads anymore. I’m not taking away from the community that actually practices the art, but now people that come, just love music. It’s completely changed the vibe of the genre because it allows for open-mindedness and expression." Australian hip hop was so homophobic back in the day and that doesn’t exist anymore, for example. It feels like even though the world isn’t in a very good place, hip hop made in Australia is moving in a more progressive direction. Especially with the success of A.B Original! There is cause for hope within this fraction of society.