Sharmi Surianarain is back home in Chennai after 15 years, this weekend, to give us a taste of her debut EP, Lost. The title is apt, given that the songs helped her cope and she tells us, offered hope, after losing her dad and two dear friends during the pandemic. In this intimate chat, we explore the ‘sound of healing’ if you will, as the Nairobi-based jazz artiste walks us through hospital jams, lyrical notebooks that were a steady companion as she tread down a dark tunnel of grief, eventually coming out on the other side through music.
Tell us about your new EP. How long has it been in the making?
My new EP is titled Lost. It has four songs (four out of the 20+ I have actually written), recorded over the past year. It was created for a season of personal and collective loss during the pandemic. In 2021, I lost three loved ones — two very close personal friends in March and November, and then in December, my dad. I wrote my way out of grief — when music seemed to be the only way out of a very difficult time. Somehow, the music was therapeutic, and helped me express in words and song what I couldn’t otherwise — it was a form of prayer.
Sounds like a lot of deep introspection went into writing these songs...
Absolutely. The people I lost played a pivotal role in my life — Lorna was a sister; Farai, a deeply inspiring friend, and my dad showed me the world and opened the door to all possibility. Their illnesses and eventual passing had me turning to music as a way of both connecting to them — for example, I would sing them songs while in hospital. But the music became a way of processing what happened, connecting to a sense of purpose and being, that was beyond our mortal selves. Somehow, the music made things right.
For folks who are navigating a space of transition in their own lives, which song or lyric would you recommend from the list to help inspire ‘finding’ answers, hope, or a glimmer of ourselves in the noise?
For me, Be the Moon is a deeply personal song — I wrote it three days after my dad passed. However, even though the song is sad, it speaks about a certain kind of redemption through memory and legacy. Particularly the lines: ‘When you’re gone, you will still pull the tide; When it’s dark I will look up outside; And the orb faintly glows, yes it dies, but regrows; Like winter’s tree whose buds still bloom; you’ll linger like a night perfume.’ I wrote the song trying to make sense of loss while carrying the immensity of someone’s life and memories with me. In many ways, they felt even more powerful of a force after death.
Also, we’re curious — tell us about the woman behind the music?
I’m first a mom to two beautiful boys, Biko who is 10 and Tutu who is eight. I live in Nairobi, Kenya, with my husband James, and am surrounded by an incredible community. I am truly grateful to love what I do in my dayjob — I connect young people to work on the African continent through my work overseeing impact and systems change at Harambee Youth Employment Accelerator. Every day, I get to work for young people who I believe have all the answers, and are full of potential. The rest of us need to just kick down doors to ensure they have opportunities and make sure the system doesn’t fail them.
And take us back in time for a moment... give us a glimpse of your journey from Chennai to Africa.
I grew up in Chennai, but also in a tiny town in Nigeria before that. That’s where my older sister Charu — my first inspiration — and I first learned to play piano, thanks to the open-mindedness of our extraordinary parents. I had the best days of my youth in Chennai at Sacred Heart, and I left to pursue a degree at Harvard University in the US on a scholarship decades ago, where I studied linguistics and education. And I was lucky enough to also meet my husband at university, and we both figured we wanted to work together on social impact causes. I worked in non-profits in New York, New Delhi and Johannesburg — and have fallen in love with the African continent and the potential of its youth. But music has been a golden thread throughout — and I’ve been lucky to sing and play throughout all these experiences with some extraordinary people.
Given that you speak seven languages, have you considered singing in other languages?
Yes, I actually sing in even more languages than I speak! My favourite languages to sing in are Spanish (because their language is pure poetry), Kikuyu (my husband’s language, incredibly lyrical), and isiZulu or isiXhosa, just because their jazz songs are so evocative of another place and time. English seems quite prosaic in comparison!
Concert and stage adrenaline aside, what are you most looking forward to over this visit back home?
Ever since my parents moved to Coimbatore over a decade ago, I have not been in Chennai at all. I want to give thanks to the community that raised me — my family, my teachers and my friends. I’m excited to see many of them at the event, but am even more grateful to them, for they moulded me into who I am today. You can take a girl out of namma Chennai but…
What can the audience expect at your concert in Chennai?
Expect to be transported into another place and time, to a place where romance still lives, to a place of nostalgia, where we can wear our heart on our sleeves!
What is next for Sharmi?
To continue performing in countries across Africa and the rest of the world. I’m also about to launch a series of intimate jazz evenings in my home in Nairobi, called Gin and Jazz to celebrate good music and friends. I plan to record the rest of my album and am looking forward to returning home again hopefully soon!
Sharmi will launch her new EP at a concert curated by Quriosity. At Barracuda Brew, March 24 at 8 pm.