Sid Sriram opens up about channeling devotion through music, filming at Thaipusam, and evolving his artistic voice

Sivanar is a devotional piece on Lord Murugan from the 14th-century Thiruppugazh anthology. My mother taught it to me when I was very young — it’s one of my earliest musical memories and has always stayed close to my heart. Releasing it now feels deeply symbolic. I’m stepping into a new chapter in my career, and this song feels like the perfect spiritual and artistic starting point for that journey.

It was profound. Thaipusam is such a powerful festival for Murugan, and Batu Caves turns into this ocean of faith, with over a million people gathering over two days. There’s a massive idol at the base, and about 300 steps lead to the temple in the cave. I’ve always felt deeply connected to Murugan, but experiencing Thaipusam in person was electric. Filming there felt like more than a visual project — it was worship, art transforming into prayer.

I want to amplify music that’s rooted but forward-looking — something deeply authentic yet exploratory. My journey has been about drawing from my roots and pushing boundaries. Through this collaboration, we aim to take South Indian music to a global stage and then grow outward from there — telling stories that are intimate yet expansive.

I began learning Carnatic music at the age of three from my mother, and that foundation shaped how I understand melody, rhythm, and musicality. As I grew, I fell in love with R&B, soul, and Gospel — artistes like Aretha Franklin and Stevie Wonder. That dual passion sparked my curiosity to merge both worlds. While at Berklee in 2008, I began blending Carnatic with contemporary sounds — a journey that’s still evolving.

I don’t have a fixed process, honestly. If it’s a film song, I listen to it before agreeing to record — if it moves me, I’m in. With songs I write myself, the emotional connection is inherent in the act of creating them. Writing and composing is a spiritual process. So when it’s time to perform, I just try to stay out of my own way and let the emotion flow naturally.

Tamil is intuitive for me — I was born in Chennai, and it’s in my bones. With other languages like Telugu, Malayalam, Kannada, Hindi, or Marathi, my first step is phonetic. I focus on the sounds and inflections before diving into meaning. I rely on lyricists to help me capture authenticity. Over time, with repeated practice — like with Telugu — it’s become a quicker process. With less familiar ones like Marathi, I take more time to fully absorb and respect the nuances. The goal is always emotional honesty, no matter the language.

I keep it quiet — exercise in the morning, limit conversations, conserve energy. I might listen to podcasts or interviews — things that let my mind wander a little without demanding too much. That space helps me stay centred. By the time I get to soundcheck, I’m in the zone. After that, it’s about shutting the brain off and staying present. Being fully in the moment on stage — that’s everything.

It usually begins with me at the piano or synthesizer, just improvising in a stream of consciousness way. When something catches my ear, I follow it — freestyling vocal melodies over chords. Whatever sticks becomes the foundation. From there, I layer sounds, textures, even use my voice experimentally. Once the core is there, I switch to editing — trimming, refining, and ensuring the song has space to breathe and shine.

Entropy was my first real step in expressing my solo artistic voice — it felt like discovering my vision. Since then, especially with my 2023 album, that vision has evolved. That record felt like my truest self: vibrant, layered, and exploratory. Performing at Coachella and other major stages sharpened that clarity. I now know exactly what I want my art to express.