Talking to roots reggae legend Horace Andy on the phone was no mean feat – and not just because of the London-Kingston time difference.

The background noise of his family home in Jamaica made for a chaotic chat punctuated by the shrieks of an unruly cockerel, seemingly crowing right into the receiver at all the key moments.

“Come again please,” Horace kept laughing, as I struggled to ask him about his extensive musical career – from his Kingston roots and his proto-dancehall 1980s tracks, to his near-20 years collaborating with Bristol trip-hop group Massive Attack – over the constant din.

We were speaking in advance of his five-night residency at Boisdale Of Canary Wharf (from November 12-16), which marks his first London shows since 2017, when – despite his nickname “Sleepy” – he performed an energetic Jazz Cafe set spanning his trademark, soulful hits from the early 1970s to today.

Fans of the Jamaican singer-songwriter are hoping for more of the same this winter. And Horace, a longtime stalwart and admirer of London’s music scene, is gearing up to deliver.

“London is a music city,” he said. “Once you come out of it the vibes change. I know Canary Wharf, I’ve been around there. I know people everywhere, love.”

It’s unsurprising, seeing as 67-year-old Horace Hinds has had a career that’s transported him from Jamaica to America to the UK and back.

He changed his surname to Andy when he signed to his first label, on his producer’s recommendation, to avoid comparisons with his musician cousin Justin Hinds.

Horace released his first single, This Is A Black Man’s Country, in 1967 with Studio One in Kingston, and grew to national fame there with his first major hit, Skylarking, in 1972. His album of the same name has gone down in history as a roots reggae classic, named by GQ in 2016 as one of 10 classic LPs from reggae’s golden era.

Horace then moved to the US, temporarily recording in New York City in 1982 with Jamaican expat producer Lloyd “Bullwackie” Barnes who ran the Wackies label in the Bronx.

The resulting album, a seminal six-track record called Dance Hall Style, not only influenced the dancehall reggae sound with its layered instrumentals but also reflected a shifting dynamic in Horace’s sound – from the sunny Caribbean island to the darker, wintry sonics of displacement in a New York borough.

But Horace’s most famous tracks, on this side of the Atlantic at least, are those he recorded with Bristol-based trip hop pioneers Massive Attack.

Ironically, the duo are often assumed to have been Horace’s patrons, but in reality when they approached the reggae singer in 1990, 3D and Daddy G were musical nobodies in comparison to the established artist they were majorly influenced by and contacting on the off chance they’d pique his interest.

“I just did one song with them, One Love,” Horace said, of his first single with the band on their debut album Blue Lines.

“But eventually it led up to better things, you know. I’m still touring with them. They can’t do it without me, love.”

Horace’s distinctively slow, sweet vibrato reverberates over atmospheric, bass-heavy tracks in every album Massive Attack has recorded – the only artist of their many collaborators to feature on every LP release.

He was living in Ladbroke Grove, West London, when they began recording together, and the ominous sounds of their most famous collaborations such as Angel (from Massive Attack’s 1998 album Mezzanine, and a rewritten version of Horace’s mid-70s track You Are My Angel) and Splitting The Atom (from the 2009 album Heligoland) demonstrate an extension of the more ethereal, haunting sound he developed in the Bronx.

Making music with Massive Attack both exposed Horace’s music to a younger generation of fans and linked him inextricably to the UK music scene.

“I first performed in London more than 30 years ago,” he said as the cockerel launched into another fit of crows.

“Damn this rooster.

“It’s so long ago I can’t even remember it, love. I lived in London a long time, over 15 years. I decided to go back to Jamaica because here is my foundation, here is my children.”

So having been away from the city close to his heart, what is Horace looking forward to doing when he comes back to the UK capital, his former home, the city of music?

“Honestly, love, I just sit down and watch sports,” he said. “Sports and news. I watch any kind of news and every sport, man. Football, badminton, everything.

“But not golf.”

Want to catch a glimpse of one of Jamaica’s long-time musical legends? Give up any hope of spotting him around town and secure a ticket for one of his Boisdale shows instead.

What should we expect from his sets?

“I never plan what music I will play,” he said. “I never can tell, until the day comes.”

Suffice to say, it’ll be a memorable night. boisdale.co.uk/music

Dominatrix, motivational speaker, seduction tutor. I knew from the start Madam Storm would be a formidable woman. But I wasn’t prepared for how down-to-earth and downright lovely the female empowerment coach would be.

“Hi darling,” she cried as I stepped into The Book Club in Shoreditch, leaping up from her latte in a flurry of faux fur, leather and stilettos the same crimson shade as her lipstick. “You’re beautiful.”

If Madam Storm’s job is to make women feel good about themselves, the first two minutes of our meeting showed her to be a total pro.

We’d met to discuss her Strut masterclasses, which she started running in September last year. In the sessions, Madam Storm teaches women to walk confidently in high heels. But it’s about much more than that.

“Strut is all about not giving a shit,” she said. “It’s about you saying, I am here, I am powerful, I own my sexuality and I am authentic. “A strut is me.”

Towering more than six feet in her heels and having worked as a dominatrix for 11 years, Madam Storm comes across as the epitome of confidence and sass. But I quickly learned she didn’t always feel so comfortable in her own skin – despite the fact she’d always been strutting.

“People celebrate me for being this confident, sexy woman and everyone wishes they had it,” the 34-year-old said.

“But it’s a blessing and a curse. I had so many challenges growing up. I was sexually assaulted, I was bullied. I had my power taken away from me and my coping mechanism was to be like, ‘No, fuck that. I’m going to take back my power’.”

Madam Storm grew up on an estate in Tulse Hill, relocating to Vauxhall (where she now lives again with her boyfriend) and eventually Croydon as a teenager.

“I didn’t grow up with privilege,” she said. “I grew up poor. My parents were cleaners and I remember getting up at four in the morning to go to work with them.

“But from Vauxhall you can see central London. I remember even then thinking, one day I’m going to be out there, exploring the world.

“Now I’m in black taxis going over the river. I’m like, yay!”

Growing up, her struggles had nothing to do with an identity crisis.

“I remember being 11 and knowing what it was to be sexy,” she said. “To know you have some sort of power that allures the opposite sex. But it kind of fucked with me. There was no way I could switch it off or tone it down because I didn’t know what I was doing.

“I’ve always been tall and curvy, and I’ve always strutted. I’d walk into a room and command all this attention, but that came with bullying. I ended up going to seven different schools.

“I had a really hard time being me. Adults would feel uncomfortable around me and that would make me feel uncomfortable – dirty and ashamed about being the person I am. As a teenager, you’re not allowed to express yourself in a sexual way and for it to be positive.”

In her early 20s, Madam Storm found a non-judgemental environment for the first time – in a community she’d only heard spoken about negatively before.

“Being a dominatrix allowed me to express myself for the first time after all those years of being bullied for who I was,” she said.

“I finally found a place where women were supportive of me. They loved the fact I was tall, and different – they encouraged me.

“And suddenly I had men who wouldn’t even look at me without my permission, who would treat me with the utmost respect.

“Being a dominatrix healed and empowered me. It is the most empowering feeling when you walk into a room and don’t even speak, but just you walking around the room makes someone tremble.

“I grew up on an estate where I couldn’t even go to the shops without being harassed. I was bullied for having this attitude and presence, but then in domming I was celebrated for it and I could whip the shit out of men at the same time. I was like, ‘Yes’.

“I like that exchange of power. And then to get paid shitloads of money for it? It’s like, ‘Alright, I did that, girl’. It was very therapeutic for me.”

It also opened up to her a life of glamour – “I said to myself, one day I’ll live in Chelsea. And I ended up living just off the King’s Road and thought, I made it” – but the lifestyle that accompanied the scene didn’t always have a positive effect.

“Earning that much money at such a young age, you get caught up in drugs and alcohol,” she said. “That fuelled the demons I had from being sexually abused. I used to sleep until 3pm because I could. One hour’s work domming would be the same as someone else’s wage for a week.

“One day I was like, ‘No, this isn’t it’. I couldn’t have gone through all this and for it to not be for a reason. “I always felt I had a purpose.”

Madam Storm swapped partying for early-morning exercise and eventually competing in the World Bodybuilding Federation.

“It changed my life,” she said. “People saw my transition and were inspired by it. I got flooded with messages saying: ‘You’re such an inspiration, I love your confidence’ – but I was just being myself.

“But I loved the feeling that I was making people feel good about themselves.

“I always had the ability to make other women feel empowered. Because I was bullied, I couldn’t understand why someone would want to make someone else feel shit about themselves.

“I was the girl who’d walk into MAC, see you putting on a lipstick and say: ‘Oh my god, that looks so cute on you’. I thought, I’m going to get into coaching – not fitness, but the mindset side.

“My personal journey of healing has brought me to where I am today, empowering women. I feel that it’s my purpose in life. The women I coach message me literally all the time, saying: ‘Thank you, you inspire me, you empower me’.

“But really I need to thank them. They’ve helped me as much as I’ve helped them.”

Which brought us back to Strut. How exactly does a strutting session go down?

“When ladies first walk into my strut masterclass I make it my business to hug each and every one of them and give them a kiss,” she said. “Before we start anything I create a circle and say: ‘This is a safe, non-judgemental space. You are amongst girlfriends’.

“Each person says something about why they’re there, which allows other people to be like, oh my god, me too. It gives them something in common and they realise that we’re on a journey together. Then we do a warm-up. We each say: ‘I am powerful’ and have 20 other people saying back: ‘Yes you are’.”

Then comes the strutting.

“We have five different struts,” said Madam Storm. “The power strut, the pussycat strut (which is everybody’s favourite), the sass, the seductive and the diva.

“The power strut is all about you standing up nice and tall, owning your space. A lot of women, especially tall women, don’t want to draw too much attention so they hunch their shoulders over and they look down.

“This is about self-confidence and being able to walk into a room and command that attention. And so you should, because you’re a beautiful woman and you’re okay with yourself.

“The pussycat strut is very, very sexy. It’s about you bringing out your sexy goddess and showing off.

“You touch your neck, you move seductively and you say: ‘Look at me, aren’t I beautiful, aren’t I sexy’.”

Do women feel awkward, I wondered, testing out their struts for the first time?

“I’m very good at reading body language after so many years being a dom – I know when someone’s not feeling comfortable,” Madam Storm said.

“Of course everyone’s going to feel a little bit uncomfortable because they’re in a new place.

“But I see the difference from when they first walk in. By the second strut they’re like, ‘Yas honey’. They’re giving it all this sass, blowing kisses to themselves. It’s absolutely incredible.”

Women attend the strut masterclasses for a variety of reasons.

“The common denominator is confidence,” she said. “They want to learn how to walk in their stilettos. They want to learn how to command attention in a positive way. They want to feel empowered and confident with themselves.”

But for many, it’s an emotional experience – and Madam Storm takes her job to hand-hold them through it very seriously.

“Women cry in my masterclasses because for once they’re being celebrated for who they are, no matter their shape, size, colour, what they do for a living,” she said.

“I have women who have been sexually assaulted and feel uncomfortable with being sexy again – because they feel like if they are, they deserved it.

“Then they come into this safe space and they’re like, ‘No’. I don’t have to hide my breasts, or my legs. Why should I have to wear a hoodie so someone doesn’t look at me?

“And they fall in love with themselves all over again.”

Others come to Madam Storm’s masterclasses to face their bodyimage struggles, which sometimes make it hard for them to even look at their own reflection.

“If someone’s not looking in the mirror, no one says anything but they’re all watching,” she said.

“There was one lady who wouldn’t look in the mirror throughout the whole class until the very last strut – and everyone was like, ‘Yeah!’ And clapped and cheered for her. It was so beautiful.”

But be warned – one word is banned in the sessions.

“People aren’t allowed to say, ‘I’m bringing out my inner Beyoncé’,” she said.

“No you’re not, goddammit.

“You’re bringing out the inner Susie, the inner Sam, the inner Jessica. This trend of always relating yourself to a celebrity? It’s bad business and it’s bad for your self-esteem.

“You are you. And that’s why you are so beautiful and so perfect. Because you’re the only one that looks like you. That’s why we create our own struts in the masterclasses. I say, I’m going to give you the techniques and the mindset, but I want you to be you.”

For Madam Storm, femininity means power. But in our society, these two words aren’t always seen together, especially in professional contexts.

So I asked her how women could use the power of the strut and all the lessons of self-love learned from it, to get to the top in business?

“I don’t understand the idea that if a woman is strong or has authority, then she’s not feminine,” said Madam Storm.

“Why? I see a lot of women who are like, ‘I work in a corporate company and men won’t respect me if I’m feminine’.

“But when you’re trying to seduce somebody – and when I talk about that I don’t just mean in the bedroom, we’re seduced every day, by politicians, adverts – ‘Ooh, I want to have that chocolate cake.’ That chocolate cake is seducing you, honey – you don’t match masculinity with masculinity. It doesn’t work that way.

“If you lead naturally with your masculine energy, then cool, do that. But if your personality is to lead with your feminine energy, and you feel suppressed because you don’t want them to not take you seriously?

“Just be your authentic self because that’s when you’re at your happiest, most free and most powerful.

“Wear that nice perfume. Wear that red lipstick. Don’t hide. The more we hide away, the less people are going to know we’re there.

“So sit up, shoulders up. You’re a beautiful woman. If you want to flip your hair, girl, flip your hair. Ask questions, put your hand up, speak up, speak loud.

“That will project confidence – I am proud of being a woman and fuck what you think.”

Madam Storm should know, considering the barriers she came up against in setting up her business in the way she wanted to.

“I had big marketing directors and PR agents saying to me I looked too intimidating,” she said. “It was the same shit I got in school. ‘No, don’t put that picture up. Don’t tell them you’re a mistress. Don’t swear.’ But I fucking swear.

“If I’m going to empower women to be themselves, I can’t be a fraud. I have to be myself.

“This is why I get so teary when I get these messages from people. Because I had to fight so hard to be me.

“So my advice? Free yourself from self-judgement. Once you do that, you free yourself from judgement from others.

“Accept who you are. Stop comparing yourself to others. Just stop. Today. Right now. And fall in love with yourself again.” teachmestorm.co.uk

Despite being one of three girls out of 70 students taking her Mathematics And Computer Science Master’s degree, Anne-Marie Imafidon didn’t realise that as a woman in tech, she was a minority.

After completing her University Of Oxford education at 19 – the youngest-ever Master’s graduate – she kick-started her career at Goldman Sachs, Hewlett Packard and Deutsche Bank, but still didn’t notice a gender imbalance in her industry.

Then, in 2012, an impassioned keynote speech by technical executive Nora Denzel opened her eyes – for good.

“It was at the Grace Hopper Celebration Of Women And Computing conference,” the now-28-year-old Anne-Marie said. It’s the world’s biggest conference for women in tech, with 20,000 attendees this year.

“Only when I found myself in a majority-female tech environment did I realise I hadn’t experienced it before. I’d been in majority-female environments in the hairdresser or in the loo, but not at work.

“At university I was never singled out for being female. And at work I must have been the only young, black, female east Londoner on the team, but I’d never been made to feel other.

“So I decided to make sure other people could join the party.”

That party is Stemettes, a social enterprise she launched the following year, based at Here East in Stratford. It holds regular public events – hackathons, school trips to tech firms, panel talks and Monster Confidence career workshops (held in tandem with the job site Monster) – in a bid to inspire and encourage young women and girls to get into science, technology, engineering and mathematics (Stem) fields.

“It’s a space for young women to explore, be themselves and get technical,” Barking-born Anne-Marie said.

In less than four years Stemettes has reached nearly 40,000 young people via its free events supported by industry partners Salesforce, Accenture and Deutsche Bank – and 95% of attendees say their interest in Stem subjects increased thanks to the experience.

It’s earned Anne-Marie an MBE and, on October 15 this year, a Barclays Women Of The Year award. But the entrepreneur is focused on her goal to change the narrative for women working in tech. Currently, women make up 14.4% of all people working in Stem in the UK, despite being half of the overall workforce.

The Government has set a goal to increase this to 30%, which is calculated to boost the UK’s labour value by over £2 billion.

But in order to do this, women have to see be attracted to the Stem industries in the first place. What are the barriers in place?

“It’s mostly about social norms and the conditioning that we give girls from a young age,” said Anne-Marie. “What it is to be a young woman and what they’re capable of.

“It’s that dead white guy thing. Everyone you learn about in these subjects is dead, white and male. We need to tell the herstory of it all, so we’re not always talking about Einstein or Brunel.

“All girls hear is, you’ll never be a dead white guy, so this isn’t for you.”

This clearly wasn’t the case for Anne-Marie, though. Something of a child prodigy, she had passed two GCSE exams, in maths and IT, by age 11.

“I didn’t even realise I could do technology as job until I was 16,” she said. “For me, discovering tech was a very personal, creative, enjoyable experience that I was doing for myself. It’s the same for most women in the industry. But you shouldn’t have to be a particular kind of person to do this. It should be accessible for all.”

According to Anne-Marie, attracting girls to Stem is best achieved through positive reinforcement and role models.

“We need to talk about the women that have been,” she said. “We all use Wi-fi, which was created by a woman, Hedy Lamarr. But no one logs onto the internet and says: ‘Thank you Hedy’.

“Hedy had to famously battle the fact that she was a pretty Hollywood actress, so no one took her seriously enough. We need to be better at the narratives and stories that we tell.”

And one way to do that is via Anne-Marie’s workshops, which she runs according to her principals of the three Fs – free, fun and with food.

“We have Beyoncé playing in the background,” she said. “It has to be a positive experience.”

Part of that positivity is changing girls’ preconceptions of Stem subjects as uninteresting or not for them – a problem that perpetuates despite the fact that teenage girls generally outperform boys in Stem classwork, but worse in tests, pointing to issues of confidence surrounding their place in these subjects.

“Scientific careers are very creative and altruistic,” she said. “We don’t talk about that enough. It’s not about making loads of money, it’s about solving problems and helping people.”

By realising the depth and variety that Stem careers offer, the goal is for girls to reevaluate what they think they know about science, tech, engineering and maths.

What’s the future looking like for Anne-Marie and Stemettes?

“The overall aim is that Stemettes isn’t needed anymore,” she said. “To have more than just the stereotypes we have, so no one can say, women don’t do tech – because there’ll be enough examples to prove them wrong.”

Just how long that could take is impossible to predict.

“Culture can change quite quickly, and this is a culture game,” said Anne-Marie. “But I want Stemettes to make a dent and then I want to do something else. I want to be able to say, this was a step.

“After that, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll become a tech comedian.”

If she does, the multi-talented entrepreneur will surely nail it. Who’s betting she could take on the comedy industry gender bias, too? stemettes.org