For the Brave Ones

To me, bliss is the thrum of the bass in my chest as I thrash and sing and cry with my metal community — specifically the Bloodywood community. My nervous system calms with the steady beat, like “shush” patting a baby. I’m safe with my people, when normally crowds send me reeling. I’m seen as I am instead of masking. And when the first words of their set are “I put a fist through the face of a r*pist,” there’s POWER in that community beyond my experience of it.

It’s not just that I love their music. It’s that their music reaches out to me from the chaos of the world, saying “hey, we’ve got you no matter what.” It’s a constant support in my life that no human can feasibly offer.

I first fell in love with music from India when the “Benny Lava” parody of “Kalloori Vaanil” started circling the internet. Although it was meant as (probably offensive) humor, I was enchanted with the beat, the instruments, the costumes, the choreography — and when I looked up the actual lyric translation, I was awed by the Tamil poetry of the song.

Bloodywood found me through YouTube about a decade later with their metal version of “Tunak Tunak Tun” featuring Bonde do Metaleiro. I signed up for their Patreon the same day. 

Then, thanks to digital streaming of international films, I started watching Bollywood movies. Rang de Basanti, which Bloodywood covered a song from. Dear Zindagi, my now-favorite movie. Kal Ho Naa Ho, Taare Zameen Par, Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, Kapoor & Sons, Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi, Guru. A friend recommended the band Indian Ocean, and their version of the Urdu poem “Zindagi Se Darte Ho” became my most important non-Bloodywood song.

Bloodywood opened the door to so much more media than just their own.

I’ve been blessed to be along for the ride as they produced and released their first original single, “Jee Veerey,” a song about perseverance that has literally saved lives. As a millennial who was a senior in high school when 9/11 happened, I know too many people who survived the battle overseas but died of suicide after they returned. Now, I have the English translation “live, brave one” tattooed on my forearm. When Bloodywood released their single “Dana-Dan” about justice for sexual violence, it left me stunned. These men I admire and who I want the world for showed that they saw me and all “nameless faces he disgraces,” even though they don’t know me. 

Bloodywood’s art continues to ripple through my life. When they self-produced their first album Rakshak, I felt emboldened to self-publish my first novel. Recently, their song “Tadka” encouraged me to try the meal at one of my favorite restaurants (which confirmed I am very much of Irish descent and should always start with mild spice for a new dish).

Even with all the words in this post, I can’t properly express how much I love this band. Every day I am thankful for their music, their dedication to their fans, and their commitment to their community. Following the band’s example, their community of “Brave Ones” continually shows up for each other with support, validation, advice, and acceptance. Jayant, Karan, Raoul, Roshan, Vishesh, and Sarthak are but mortals, but their music is forever 🤘🏼♥️🤘🏼

Long live the Brave Ones!

About this post

Bloodywood is a metal band from New Delhi, India. While I typically use this space to write about books, Bloodywood’s words have had the most significant affect on my life. I’m writing this post after seeing them on their “System of a Brown” tour in New York. Here’s a quick video from that concert.