“I don't really like poetry” admits Ghostpoet, aka Obaro Ejimiwe. The London via Coventry MC speaks with an amiable, rolling baritone and explains that the moniker, rather like his somnolent, disjointed riddims and rhymes, is hazily abstract.

“People often mention the spoken word thing too - maybe because of the name, maybe because of the way I structure words - but I'm not really into all that. I guess what I do is a mixture of MCing, rapping, and singing”.

His Sound Of Strangers EP, which featured the Micachu produced track 'Morning', earned him a growing fan base last year, and as we speak, on a chilly, grey afternoon, the MC ruminates on his just-completed album, Peanut Butter Blues And Melancholy Jam. “Its a bit like giving birth, isn't it? Music is like a baby, and releasing it to the world is scary; but I am proud. I can't wait for it to be out so people can experience it; I'm happy. I can't complain”.

He cuts a strange figure on the icy cover art of his debut: a blurred vision of a man in a porkpie hat, camel peacoat and square glasses, definitely present, but half caught in shadow. The LP is a self-produced debut, with waves of spacey, reverberating synths and versatile, urban beats casting a shifting, lethargic backdrop for the skewed slice-of-life narratives that typify Ghostpoet's songs. It wasn't until the recording process was over that Obaru became aware of the soporific atmosphere that emanates from the LP. “I didn't put together a plan really. I just created music that fitted how life was and how I was feeling about the things I was hearing and seeing around me at the time.” As with the sleepy, otherworldy quality of his moniker, he talks about his music as being almost dreamed into being, and yet whilst there's an undeniable sense of the rambling subconscious in his lyrics, he strives to ground his songs with a sense of reality. “I try to make music that is life-orientated. I want it to be broad so it connects with as many people as possible”.

Obaro's musical tenure began as a teenager, when he'd stay up late to delve into a private world of music whilst the rest of the house was asleep. There's a kind of secretive, outsider romance to this, a lone would-be artist quietly seeking out his voice during the magic, midnight hours. “Yeah, my music and style has definitely evolved from that - from doing things on my own and in my own mind space. I pursued music on my own time and at my own pace. Music was in the house and part of the house but it was never something my parents thought would be career. Music was for fun and joy, but it was never considered a breadwinner profession.” It was a sweet moment then, presenting his mother with a fresh vinyl pressing of his debut LP. “Her and my sisters are just wowed. They're all really happy I stuck with it.”

Peanut Butter Blues And Melancholy Jam is shot through with existential anxiety, a preoccupation with the fleeting nature of life that blurs into flashes of tentative optimism, and a sense of striving towards those dreams and desires that drive our private hearts. Are these confessional themes, or is the MC addressing a more collective language that we can all relate to? “Well,” he says, “life is full of fears; it's a scary place. You're constantly trying to get somewhere, or even work out where or what that somewhere is. It's a fear you have to embrace. You have to let it fuel your life. There is that element of worrying about getting to a certain age and not having achieved enough to feel comfortable with your self; that is in there, and a lot of it is subconscious. It's not something I intentionally tried to get out.”

Ghostpoet peppers his songs with British colloquialisms - “ dosh” “mashed up” “bless his cotton white socks” - and yet Peanut Butter Blues And Melancholy Jam plays on a distinctive American reference, that staple, lunch box sandwich filling. “It's difficult for me to explain” he says. “I wanted to get across the idea of sadness and emotion, hence the “melancholy” and “blues”. A lot of people comfort eat when they're down or when they're not feeling their best, so the peanut butter and jam are part of that.” He's keen to assert that this is not the title's sole meaning; it's layered with personal symbolic references, and he admits with a good-natured chuckle that everyone he talks to offers their own individual interpretation each time the subject of the title arises in conversation. “Everyone gets something different from it. I guess it's a lot like my lyrics. I like them to float, if that makes sense. I don't like them to be stuck in one place; I like them to come off the page.”

This shifting quality can certainly be felt in the narratives that shape his songs and the characters that inhabit them; they vacillate, often awkwardly, and seem lost in their own flux - confused and bleak in one verse, determined and doggedly optimistic in the next. “I can't write a story or a track where I'm talking about Mr A all the way through. I might talk about Mr A for a few lines, then I might put in a snippet of my life, or someone else's opinion of Mr A... It could be about what I'd like my life to be at 44, or something I read in a news story. I'm definitely not a linear writer.”

In spite (or perhaps because) of his lone, artistic position, he expresses an appreciation for mundane, every day chatter. “I'm inspired by conversations, whether it's friends, or overhearing strangers on the tube. Sometimes I can't even hear them because I've rock headphones a lot, so I just watch their body language instead”. He may not dig poetry, but the ghost aspect certainly fits. Consider this MC a friendly phantom, taking simple, voyeuristic inspiration from the everyday natter that keep us all connected and ticking along.

Ghostpoet live dates:
19 February @ Base Festival, Ulster Hall, Belfast