....The number of true visionaries is steadily decreasing, the definition of true artistry has succumbed to a viral dance on Tik Tok and the f***ing ice caps are melting. And amidst all of that, I am sat here listening to the last 21 seconds of Taveet and thinking, Raf Saperra is the artist we never knew we needed, but now can’t live without....
It’s been a minute since I’ve actually sat down to write, between my 9-to-5, taking care of my plants, pet rabbit, and bearded dragon, nothing really pulled me away until now. So, if you’re still with me, this post is about a certain Snake Charmer living in South London.
Alright, let’s rewind. I grew up in a house where Mum ran the music show most days and we’d be stuck doing chores while blasting Pink Floyd, Elvis Presley, and Michael Jackson. The rest of the week, Dad would mix it up with wrestling theme songs and Ustaad Ji’s on repeat. Over time, we all went off in our own directions. My brother found hip-hop, my sisters got into painting (on some very white walls), and I leaned hard into rock with a little metal on the side and some bhangra.
Then came the day my dad played Sochta Hu in the car. For the first time, I really listened—really tuned into the words, the beat, the pain, the melody. And I realised how similar the Bards Mum loved (Shakespeare, Byron, Keats) were to the Ustaad’s Dad loved (Nusrat, Badar, Sabri Brothers).
Our house became this beautiful mix of music that brought us together in different ways. But I’ll admit, I didn’t exactly jump for joy when Dad made me listen to Pankaj Udhas for what felt like an eternity. Then Mohammed Rafi. Then Aziz Mian.
With all our different musical tastes, road trips felt like we were about to drive off a cliff fighting over which genre to play next. And if someone told me back then that an artist would one day unite multiple audiences worldwide, bas thoda sa sabr karlo, we probably would've slapped them—repeatedly. If only there was someone that could unite us back then and prevent auxiliary murder….
Then last year, I stumbled upon Raf Saperra (sorry I'm late!). Up until that point, I didn’t believe anyone could pull off what he’s done. This individual is the musical equivalent of a natural athlete. He effortlessly taps into so many styles. Each album, each song feels like a new world. I’m not saying other artists haven’t done this, but Raf... well, let me just say:
- I haven’t heard anything as hauntingly beautiful as the chorus in Simplicit.
- The ending of Hood Harvest gets you so hyped, you’ll end up rewinding it and getting stuck in this crazy cycle of "ra pa pa pa's" that get you pumped all over again.
- The way you start shouting random alcohol brands during Glassy Riddim at a traffic light, only to get pulled over by the police and told to "calm the hell down and focus on the road" (true story).
- And don’t even get me started on the moment in Tappeh at 2 minutes and 7 seconds... if you know, you know.
This isn’t an homage to the new album, rather a retrospective of everything Raf Saperra has created to date. In my infinite wisdom (or lack thereof), sitting in Pret drafting settlement agreements, I’m currently thinking; The number of true visionaries is steadily decreasing, the definition of true artistry has succumbed to a viral dance on Tik Tok and the f***ing ice caps are melting. And amidst all of that, I am sat here listening to the last 21 seconds of Taveet and thinking, Raf Saperra is the artist we never knew we needed, but now can’t live without.
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