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  • Genre:

    Pop/R&B

  • Label:

    Warner UK

  • Reviewed:

    November 29, 2023

On her full-length debut, the Tamil Swiss singer and rapper presents a lively and ambitious blend of R&B, rap, and Tamil folk.

Like so many in the South Asian diaspora, 37-year-old Tamil Swiss singer and rapper Priya Ragu is hungry for art that speaks to the complexity of our experiences. She has said that there’s no single theme to her new album, Santhosam, which touches on topics as varied as combating familial pressure, craving a vacation, and contesting police brutality. But throughout her career, her work has centered around her desire to express her perspective as the child of Sri Lankan refugees and to reach other South Asian listeners in the process. She called her debut mixtape damnshestamil. She wears saris with T-shirts in performances, sings in her mother tongue, and dedicates a song on the new album to her grandmother (a common gesture among South Asian diasporic artists). In her music, she pulls equally from R&B, rap, and Tamil folk, creating a blend she calls “Ragu-wavy.”

“Ragu-wavy” pairs the boisterous production of Santigold and fellow Tamil diasporic artist M.I.A. with the adroit vocal stylings of Snoh Aalegra or Sade. Ragu is also a student of the Tamil music she grew up hearing at home: She specifically draws from kuthu, a fast-paced, drum-forward type of folk music found in Kollywood (Tamil-language cinema) films and sampled by M.I.A. The bombastic arrangements of tracks like “Escape” and “Adalam Va!” convey the self-determined optimism suggested by the title Santhosam (Happiness), whether Ragu is singing about a burgeoning relationship or urging us to hold onto our faith. She sounds confident and dexterous when she raps in Tamil, as in the chorus of audacious self-love anthem “Power,” where she hopscotches defiantly over cascading violin and synth.

Album closer “Mani Osai,” which Ragu wrote with her father and brother, makes her mastery of South Asian musical traditions especially clear. Gentle tabla and humming synth establish a slow-moving ambient river while violin swells, golden bansuri notes, and layered vocals that sound right out of an A. R. Rahman composition flutter like confetti. Ragu sings patiently and warmly in Tamil, delivering her most affecting vocal performance on the record.

As she builds her vision for South Asian diasporic pop, Ragu looks to an earlier generation of Black American artists for inspiration. She cites Lauryn Hill, Stevie Wonder, and Brandy as influences and draws on elements of R&B and rap. The most political track on the album, “Black Goose,” was written amid the 2020 Black Lives Matter movement to honor George Floyd’s life. There’s a long history of Asian musicians allying themselves in solidarity with Black artists; Ragu specifically identifies a connection between the Black Lives Matter movement and her family’s history surviving the genocide of Tamils in Sri Lanka. But by invoking anti-Black oppression in the first person—“Officer don’t shoot, I got so much shit to do,” she sings in the chorus—she winds up conflating racialized experiences in a way that feels vague and appropriative rather than supportive.

At times Ragu’s songwriting can feel like a missed opportunity to know her better. The Afrobeats-inflected “Hit the Bucket” is a laundry list of flexes interwoven with a directive to dance. Quotables like “Melanin dream with a hella mean sheen” and “Don diva fold my hands like Shiva” edge close to a “representation matters” genre of feel-good art that celebrates the signifiers of identity without exploring what it is they signify. On “Vacation,” Ragu dreams of slowing down, healing, and turning off her phone, generic sentiments that could hang beside a “Live Laugh Love” plaque.

The best South Asian diasporic art is a balm for an enduring sense of placelessness. It is rooted in a deep familiarity with disparate cultures and artistic traditions yet requires a willingness to innovate something new. Ragu offers her most memorable portrait of this experience on “School Me Like That,” where she contrasts the expectations of her family and workplace with the urgency of her own dreams. (The song follows a message in Tamil from her grandmother asking her to get married.) “How can I stay awake for somebody else dream when/I got so much life in me that I should be living?” she asks. Music and message coalesce in words that capture both where she comes from and where she wants to go. Santhosam could use more songs with this level of intentionality—songs that reach beyond proclamations of self-love or dancefloor hedonism to meet the richness and complexity of Ragu’s sound and aesthetic.