The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
6 — Wednesday, March 9, 2022

Growing up as a young South Asian 

girl in a small city in Michigan, find-
ing representation in music always 
felt nearly impossible. I had two easy 
options when it came to listening to 
music. I could either listen to whatev-
er was trending in the U.S., or I could 
listen to the South Asian music my 
mother would blast on her phone while 
cooking. And as much as I loved lis-
tening to A. R. Rahman and Dhanush 
while helping my mother roll out her 
chapatis on a random Tuesday night, 
I never felt seen by their artistry. It 
wasn’t music I could dive into, get-
ting lost in the melodies, replaying the 
lyrics over and over in my head like a 
trance. 

My knowledge of Tamil is very 

limited. I can understand basic con-
versational Tamil and repeat back a 
whopping 14 words. So understanding 
fluent melodic Tamil was already a 
challenge, but being able to sing along 
to the lyrics was unimaginable. So I 
did what 11-year-old me thought was 
my only option — listened to the radio. 
98.7 was my channel. I’d get into my 
mom’s car from school and immedi-
ately pause the Tamil song she was lis-
tening to since I couldn’t understand 
the lyrics, just to put on Detroit’s 98.7, 
which played whatever was trending 
on the Billboard Hot 100. Through 
the years, this radio obsession quickly 
switched over to whatever song my 
brother played in the car through his 
phone in middle school, eventually 
then jumping to whatever my friends 
listened to or what Spotify recom-
mended to me in high school. I could 
understand and sing along to every 
song I heard. But gaining this meant I 

lost any form of the musical represen-
tation that the Tamil music gave me.

So a few years back, I fell into a Spo-

tify playlist searching frenzy, finding 
South Asian artists that I could listen 
to, enjoy and relate to. After finding a 
few that I featured in part one, I decid-
ed to continue my hunt. Here are some 
more of my favorite artists so far. 

Nikhil Ramani
Nikhil Ramani is originally from 

Chennai, a city in South India, where 
my family currently resides. Both he 
and his roommate, Luke Duckworth, 
have been creating music together 
and releasing it on Spotify since 2020. 
Through this, Ramani has accumu-
lated over 1,500 monthly listeners. I 
stumbled upon Ramani’s music last 
October when I heard the duo’s song 
“seventeen.” The song grapples with 
the end of one’s youth: the period of 
shifting from adolescence to adult-
hood, reflecting on all the fun times 
they had as teens. The lyrics paint 
a clear story about Ramani and his 
friends when they were younger, filled 
with imagery about the “Chennai heat” 
and the “salty breeze” that loomed 
around Ramani growing up. This 
was one of the first things that made 
me gravitate so strongly to Ramani’s 
music. The lyrics were so direct, let-
ting me follow along to his story as if 
I were there. It made his music feel 
so homey and relatable. As if he was 
someone you knew, could talk to and 
listen to for hours. The music felt raw 
and less manufactured, almost like a 
home video, something so hard to find 
nowadays. To get into Ramani’s music, 
start by listening to “seventeen” and 
“Halfway Across the World.”

Anjali Taneja
Taneja is an Indian-American artist 

releasing music since 2017. Her latest 
single, “How It Feels,” has been play-
ing on rotation in my Spotify playlists 
since its release in January. Her music 
takes a unique spin on R‘n’B through 
a more indie sound, creating a flowy 
feeling that cannot help but bring out 
a deep calmness. The equal blending 
between the music and more relaxed 
vocals drew me into Taneja’s music. 
“How It Feels” is a song that imme-
diately makes me close my eyes and 
forget every pressure in my life for 
two minutes and 18 seconds. Her song 
“Paradise” has become another one 
of my favorites. The song title itself 
describes the vibe of the song, exud-
ing a light and airy feeling. To get into 
Taneja’s music, start by listening to 
“Paradise,” “Keepsake” and “How It 
Feels.”

Shravya Kamaraju
Kamaraju is a singer and songwriter 

who first started out by making covers 
of popular songs on TikTok. She would 
add desi influences, like adding Bolly-
wood mashups to the covers which led 
to her rise in popularity. From TikTok, 
she began creating her own music. Her 
most popular song has amassed over 
220,000 Spotify streams. I first lis-
tened to Kamaraju this past summer, 
when she released “Fire Hazard.” The 
song focuses on the outside world pres-
sures she faces as both a young adult 
and college student. With lyrics like 
“carrying the weight of the world on 
my shoulders” and “all in good time 
/ even natural disasters subside,” the 
song centers on how she’s falling apart 
with too much on her plate, but still 
wanting more but with the hope that 
eventually this feeling of dread and 
pressure will pass. The upbeat music 
contrasts with the feeling of mental 
exhaustion translated through the lyr-

ics, highlighting the hope that things 
will get better. To get into Kamaraju’s 
music, start by listening to “Fire Haz-
ard” and “Night to Remember.”

hrishi
With only five tracks released on 

Spotify, Indian American artist hri-
shi is quickly gaining popularity. He 
brings his desi music influences into 
both his TikTok covers and his origi-
nal music. hrishi was trained in Car-
natic music, a traditional style in South 
India, for over 10 years, and highlights 
this talent in his music while creating 
Carnatic remixes of popular songs on 
his TikTok. His song “20somethin” 
begins with clear Carnatic vocals. The 
song was released in May 2021 and 
has already picked up over 130,000 
Spotify streams. The lyrics focus on 
young adult life and how it isn’t always 
the life of the party society paints. To 
get into his music, start by listening to 
“20somethin” and “Paul McCartney 
(superstar).”

Sne
With only 203 monthly listeners, 

Sne’s music is severely underrated. Her 
most popular song, “Honey,” show-
cases Sne’s smooth and sweet vocals. 
Every time this song plays through 
my earbuds, I can’t help but just fall 
back in bed and lie there all day while 
the song sits on repeat, losing track of 
time in her melodic golden voice that 
perfectly flows across the music and 
immediately sends me into a trance. 
The lyrics focus on fantasizing about 
someone — the thought of them con-
sumes your mind the way Sne’s voice 
does, echoing in the back of your head. 
Where being with them becomes the 
only wish and thought you have. Even 
with only four songs out, Sne has 
quickly climbed my Spotify hierarchy 

and become one of my most listened to 
artists. To get into her music, start by 
listening to “Honey” and “Miss You.”

Dameer
Dameer is a singer and songwriter 

born and raised in Bangladesh. His 
Bangladeshi roots mix with the West-
ern musical influences he heard grow-
ing up to create his modern sunshine 
indie sound. His song “Michelle,” with 
over 700,000 Spotify streams, diffus-
es a happy feeling every time it plays. 
Hearing the song for the first time sent 
me into a spiral of queuing every one of 
his songs over and over, until I could 
quote every lyric. Dameer’s first 2018 
releases quickly created buzz, lead-
ing to an album release in 2019 called 
“For We Are Distant.” This past year, 
Dameer has gone independent, break-
ing away from the label he signed 
with as a teenager, releasing “Bashbo 
Bhalo,” his first independent song as 
well as his first song fully in Bangla. To 
get into his music, start by listening to 
“Michelle” and “Air.”

All these artists have given me music 

that I can dive into. Music whose mel-
odies I can get lost in. Music whose 
lyrics I can replay in my head. Music 
that I can lie in bed all day and listen 
to, daydreaming to the sound of their 
voices. Music I wouldn’t mind play-
ing in the background while I help my 
mother roll out another batch of chapa-
tis on the weekends when I’m home 
from college. But most importantly, it’s 
music that I can listen to and still feel 
close to my South Asian roots. They’re 
artists who represent me and artists I 
can relate to. I have compiled a playlist 
with all of the mentioned songs as well 
as other South Asian artists I think you 
should start listening to. I hope you lis-
ten and enjoy. 

South Asian artists you need to start listening to! Pt. 2

Where are you from?

I have often been quite wary 

of the question, “Where are you 
from?” 

Mainly because I felt like there 

was no answer that accurately 
informed the inquirer about who 
I am or what has formed me. 

You see, I could answer with a 

good selection of locations, yet all 
of them result in more questions, 
more doubt, more confusion and 
none of them provide the clarity 
that you, the asker, might be look-
ing for.

I am a habitual victim of the 

question, “but like where are you 
really from?” 

So much so that I refuse to 

answer with a location at all. 

I am from my father’s house, I 

say 

A man who arrived in the 

United States at the ripe age of 29 
as Adeoye but whose colleagues 
currently address him by John 

You see, I am no stranger to 

assimilation

A month prior to my senior 

year of high school, my father 
informs me that we will be mov-
ing back to the states from Mapu-
to, Mozambique 

My first day of school senior 

year, I was introduced as “Sarah 
from Africa.”

I had a strong accent that has 

since been rid of 

My Portuguese slang was not 

quite understood

I am from throwing away parts 

of my identity for the comfort of 
others. 

I am from my mother’s aspira-

tions 

A woman who never fails to 

plan 

Who puts everything into her 

children 

Who taught me what it looks 

like to be a good friend 

I come from good friends 
Around the world who know 

me better than I know myself 

Who are willing to give me 

advice in English, in Portuguese, 
in Yoruba, in whatever language 

will make it stick that I am loved

I come from love. 
I come from writing love 

poems to boys who will never 
read them 

Writing lines like 
“I don’t believe in scripted 

prayers but the part about you is 
pretty much the same every time” 

Or 
“To be honest sometimes I just 

felt like your moon, an empty 
beacon by which your light shone 
through. I loved that I could 
show the world what it was like 
to be close to you.” 

I am from looking for love in all 

the wrong places.

I am from my paternal grand-

mother’s confidence

A matriarch who was the first 

young girl in Ikere Ekiti, Nigeria 
to pass the exam into secondary 
school without status and with-
out wealth 

I, too, am familiar with the 

feeling of being in rooms that 
people wonder how I got into 

I am from constantly proving 

that I am worthy. 

I am from constantly saying 

goodbye 

Never getting attached 
Always wondering when the 

director will say cut

When I will be plucked out of 

this scene and forced into anoth-
er. 

I am from the theatre
A performer, truly 
So much so that I no longer 

know the difference between 
who I am and who I pretend to be. 

I am from a Black woman that 

came from a Black woman that 
came from a Black woman 

Or whatever Rihanna said. 
And I will give birth to a Black 

woman 

I am from amazing mothers 
I am from never doubting my 

appearance because generations 
of men fell in love with women 
that look like me. 

I am from pretty brown skin 
That people write poems about 
I am from constantly writing 

poems but never calling myself a 
poet.

Courtesy of Sarah Oguntomilade/MiC

Design by Roshni Mohan

 ROSHNI MOHAN

MiC Columnist

 SARAH OGUNTOMILADE

MiC Columnist