You hear me now?

Heart is bleadin'
Memories are flyin' - low
In a cold Cold hole
Under a grey grey sky
Wanna die in Birmingham

City, you pushed me to the side,
Never welcomed me
Putting me down
From the day I was born
I never felt home
Never belong, always apart
Integration fairies
Never leaned on me

Racism'ss floating
Thick like a toxic smog
Walkin' the streets
Heart heavy like a log
On Ladypool Road, they called me out
"Go back home,"
They used to shout
"Go back home,"
They used to shout
"Go Back home, go Back home, go Back home, go Back home...."

I wish my feet never walked your soil, city
I wish your streets never rot my soul
I wish my feet never walked your soil, city
I wish your streets never rot my soul
I wish my feet never walked your soil, city
I wish your streets never rot my soul

Nah bruv, I'm not your "cute asian chick"
Thinkin' I’m exotic?
Just for show?
You don’t know the struggle,
You don’t know the flow
See me smilin', but you don't see the fight
I was born in this city
But never felt right

Labelled by my skin
Labelled by my name
Labelled by my face
I wanna die here
... in Birmingham
I wanna die in Birmingham
Be a burden on you, like you was to I
Be a burden on you, like you was to I

I wish my feet never walked your soil, city
I wish your streets never rot my soul
I wish my feet never walked your soil, city
I wish your streets never rot my soul
I wish my feet never walked your soil, city
I wish your streets never rot my soul

Treated like an alien
In my bloody own place
City, you shunned us
Thrown under the bus
City, you threw stones,
And left us scarred
You labeled us
"Chinese virus"
And kept us barred
Making our life hard

I wanna die in Birmingham
Make you remember me
I wanna die here
Make you feel the weight of me
Tried to fit, but you boxed me in
Always saw my skin, not the heart within
Called me fuckin'' paki, yeah
Your words cut deep

Yeah the words cut deep...
City, your words cut deep...
Words cut deep, City
Yeah the words cut deep.

I wasn’t made for your categories.

I wasn’t made to be your “representation,” your “spice,” your “Asian cutie,” your “empowering success story.”
I was made in Birmingham.
In a small house where the walls smelled like sambal, baby lotion, and stress.

My name is Hana Rahman.

I am the result of jetlag, fast food, and prayers muttered in two languages.

I’ve been called “exotic” at job interviews and “aggressive” for asking why.

This album, "Once Upon a Time in Brum" is a love letter to the chaos.

This is not a nostalgia trip.
This is not assimilation.
This is survival.

It’s the soundtrack of your mind when you’re walking alone at night.

It’s the sound of a train leaving a station and the feeling that you’ve just missed it.

There’s dub in here.
There’s ska.
There’s jungle, reggae, jazz, Bollywood string stabs, and guitars.
There are recordings from my family and arguments with men in corner shops.
It’s messy because I am.
It’s clashing because the world is.

It’s my Brum.
Not VisitBirmingham’s version.
Mine.

Welcome to Brumtown.
The real one.
No fairy tales.
My Brum.

Hana Rahman
[/i]

OUT NOW



Tracklist – Once Upon a Time in Brum:

Prelude: Welcome to Brumtown
Mama Wore Gold at the Airport
Steel City Dub
BrickWallz
No Right Name
Bakulan Grocery Markt
Ragam Stomp Gyal
Famili
Interlude : Dinner at 6.30pm
Brum Ting
Jalan-Jalan
Asian Cutie
RAHMANISTAN F.M
Bouncing Rookery Road
I Wanna Die In Birmingham
Must Catch a Train