He’s got "Human" tattooed across his knuckles and a voice that sounds like it was dragged through gravel and soaked in honey. Most people just know him as the big guy with the beard who sang that one massive hit about being only human after all. But Rory Graham—better known as Rag'n'Bone Man—is a much weirder, more complex musical figure than the radio edits suggest. He’s a guy who grew up on a diet of jungle music and underground hip-hop in Uckfield, East Sussex, yet somehow became the face of modern British soul.
It’s honestly kind of wild when you think about it.
The name Rag'n'Bone Man comes from his childhood memories of watching Steptoe and Son with his granddad. It’s a nod to a bygone era of scrap collectors. That grit is baked into his sound. It isn't just a persona. When "Human" dropped in 2016, it didn't just climb the charts; it basically sat on them like a heavy weight that wouldn't move. But if you stop there, you’re missing the actual story of the man behind the moniker.
The unexpected roots of the Human Rag'n'Bone Man sound
Most people assume Rory Graham just woke up one day with a record contract because he had a deep voice. That’s not how it happened. Before he was the Human Rag'n'Bone Man everyone recognizes, he was deep in the UK hip-hop scene. We’re talking about the Rum Committee, a rap collective from Brighton. He spent years honing his craft in damp basements and small clubs, spitting bars over boom-bap beats.
He wasn't a singer first.
His dad encouraged him to get on stage at a local blues night when he was about 19. He sang a Robert Johnson track. The room went silent. You’ve probably seen those movies where the protagonist opens their mouth and everyone realizes they’re a prodigy? That was Rory. But even then, he didn't pivot to pop. He kept his hip-hop sensibilities, which is why his debut album, Human, has that distinct, heavy rhythmic backbone. It’s soul music, sure, but it’s soul music played through the speakers of a 1998 Honda Civic.
Why the "Human" phenomenon happened
It was the right song at exactly the right time. In 2016, the world felt increasingly digital, cold, and judgmental. Then comes this massive, bearded man singing about fallibility. The lyrics "I'm only human after all / Don't put the blame on me" hit a nerve. It wasn't just a catchy hook. It was a permission slip to be imperfect.
The song went Diamond in France. It went multi-platinum in the UK and the US. It won him the Brit Award for British Single of the Year. It’s one of those rare tracks that works at a wedding, a funeral, and a gym session all at the same time. But fame is a weird beast. Rory has often talked about how the sudden explosion of that song was "mental." One minute he’s playing for fifty people, the next he’s on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon.
👉 See also: Ted Nugent State of Shock: Why This 1979 Album Divides Fans Today
The pressure to replicate that success is usually what kills an artist's soul.
Life after the massive hit: Moving beyond the "Human" label
If you look at his second album, Life by Misadventure, you can see him actively trying to dismantle the box the industry tried to put him in. He moved to Nashville to record. He swapped the electronic samples for live instrumentation and a 70s rock-and-roll vibe.
Some critics hated it.
They wanted "Human 2.0." They wanted more stomping beats and gospel choirs. Instead, Rory gave them songs like "All You Ever Wanted," which sounds more like The Killers or Sam Fender than Bill Withers. It was a risky move. But honestly, it showed he’s a real musician, not a product. He’s obsessed with the craft of songwriting. He’s cited Joni Mitchell and Elton John as massive influences for that record. He wanted to write songs that his kids could listen to in twenty years and still find meaningful.
He’s a father now. That changed everything.
The vulnerability in his newer work isn't just about his own mistakes; it's about the fear of raising a child in a chaotic world. When he sings on tracks like "Anywhere Away from Here" (that massive duet with P!nk), you can hear the exhaustion and the hope fighting each other. It’s a very different kind of power than the raw, booming aggression of his early work.
The technical side of that voice
Let's get nerdy for a second. Rory Graham is a baritone, but he has this incredible control over his upper register that lets him hit notes usually reserved for tenors. He uses a lot of "chest voice" even when he’s high up, which gives him that resonant, vibrating quality.
✨ Don't miss: Mike Judge Presents: Tales from the Tour Bus Explained (Simply)
It’s not "pretty" singing.
It’s visceral. It’s textured. If you listen to his live sessions—specifically the ones recorded at Abbey Road—you can hear the physical effort. He doesn't hide the breaths. He doesn't hide the slight cracks. That’s the Human Rag'n'Bone Man ethos in a nutshell. He’s a perfectionist who loves imperfection.
What people get wrong about Rory Graham
There’s a misconception that he’s this brooding, serious giant. In reality, he’s a massive nerd for gaming and sneakers. He’s famously low-key. While other stars are busy buying mansions in Calabasas, Rory was largely staying put in the UK, maintaining his roots.
He’s also incredibly supportive of the local scene. He’s often spotted at small gigs in Brighton, just being a fan. He hasn't forgotten the Rum Committee days. He’s one of the few artists who has managed to bridge the gap between "Grammy-level fame" and "local pub regular" without looking like he’s trying too hard.
The industry tried to market him as a "blue-eyed soul" singer, a label that’s always been a bit reductive and weird. Rory’s music is black-influenced, undeniably. He’s a student of Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker. But he also loves the Wu-Tang Clan. He’s a hybrid. To label him as just one thing is to ignore the actual DNA of his music.
The struggle with the spotlight
Being the Human Rag'n'Bone Man isn't always easy. Rory has been open about his struggles with anxiety and the claustrophobia of fame. Imagine being a guy who values his privacy but stands about 6'5" and is covered in tattoos. You don't exactly blend into a crowd at Tesco.
He’s handled it with a lot of grace, but you can hear the tension in his lyrics. He writes about wanting to escape, about the falseness of the industry, and about the people who only show up when the sun is shining. It’s a common theme for British artists who blow up globally, but Rory’s take feels less like complaining and more like a weary observation.
🔗 Read more: Big Brother 27 Morgan: What Really Happened Behind the Scenes
How to actually appreciate his discography
If you only know the hits, you’re eating the icing and skipping the cake. To really "get" what he’s doing, you have to go backward.
Start with the Wolves EP (2014). This is where you hear the hip-hop influence most clearly. It’s darker, grittier, and less polished than the radio stuff. "Lay My Body Down" is a standout track that shows his range before the big production budgets kicked in.
Listen to the live version of "Die Easy." It’s an a cappella track. No instruments. No reverb. Just him. It’s haunting. It proves that he doesn't need a massive beat to hold your attention.
Check out his collaborations. His work with Bugzy Malone on "Skeletons" shows he can still hang in the rap world. His feature on the Gorillaz track "The Apprentice" is another great example of him fitting into a weird, electronic soundscape effortlessly.
Watch the Glastonbury sets. There is a massive difference between hearing him on Spotify and seeing him command a field of 60,000 people. He’s a presence. He doesn't need pyrotechnics. He just stands there and lets that voice do the work.
What’s next for Rag'n'Bone Man?
As of 2026, he’s continuing to evolve. He’s moved past the need to prove he can have a number one hit. He’s in that sweet spot of his career where he has a loyal fanbase that will follow him into whatever genre he decides to explore next.
There have been rumors of him returning to a more heavy, hip-hop-centric project. There’s also talk of more acoustic, stripped-back folk influences. Whatever he does, it’s going to be honest. That’s the one thing you can bank on with Rory Graham. He’s too big, too loud, and too real to be anything else.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Aspiring Artists:
- Study the Roots: If you want to understand modern soul, don't just listen to the Top 40. Go back to the blues records that Rory obsessed over.
- Embrace the Pivot: Rag'n'Bone Man didn't stay in the hip-hop lane, nor did he stay in the soul-pop lane. Don't be afraid to change your "brand" if it means being more authentic.
- Vocal Health Matters: If you’re a singer with a voice like his, learn about "vocal fry" and how to protect your chords. Rory’s power comes from technique as much as raw talent.
- Ignore the Critics: His second album was a departure that some didn't like, but it solidified his longevity. Stick to your creative guns.
The story of the Human Rag'n'Bone Man isn't a story of a one-hit wonder. It’s a story about a guy from a small town who used a massive voice to carry a lifetime of influences onto the global stage. He’s not a pop star; he’s a soul singer in the truest, grittiest sense of the word. And honestly? We need more of that.