Aurat: Underdogs on a Mission

The Los Angeles-based indie post-punk band has a lot to say about their journey in making the music they want to make as working class artists.

Aurat (pronounced as OH-RUT, is Urdu for “women”) is challenging the way listeners hear post-punk music. The band, composed of couple Gil and Azeka, followed by bandmates Victor (drums) and Dee and Jose (guitar), has come a long way since their debut as a duo. Taking in the post-punk scene, Aurat has reinvented the wheel by not just producing genre-breaking music, but also creating community and space for minorities within the scene. Their unapologetic nature of doing whatever the hell they please without giving a care about what others have to say about how they should sound and what direction they should go is incredibly daring in the post-Trumpian era society. 

“At a young age, I was so ashamed of my culture and how society viewed South Asians. It’s something that we tried to hide,” Azeka says over the phone. “I was very hesitant about singing in Urdu because I didn’t know what people would think. I think I learned that it doesn’t really matter what people would think because people who would support it would support it.” From the get go, it was evident what Aurat stood for. Azeka does not hesitate even a moment to bring up the importance of representing their cultures. The lyrics are stubbornly in Urdu (with occasional Spanish written by the Hispanic members of the group), Azeka’s native tongue, connecting folks to a level of emotional intimacy that can only be felt when listening to their discography intimately alone.

“We’ve gotten comments on our YouTube stuff like ‘I wish she (Azeka) sang in English’, and it’s like, ‘Why?’ I’m showing something that’s me. I think when I sing in Urdu, I have more emotion, it’s more genuine. It feels like it’s coming from my heart.” She mentions the numerous times audience goers could feel her lyrics and raw emotion on stage despite not knowing a single Urdu word. “[The lyrics] are usually sad or pissed off. It’s like ‘Damn, she going through it!’” Azeka laughs. “Although people can’t understand it, they can feel it.”

“And even if people don’t understand what Azeka is saying a lot of the time, I think that people still respond to the emotion that she’s conveying. The energy is definitely out there! People are vibing to the beat and vibing to the melody and that’s all that really matters,” Gil heartily explains.

“A lot of times when you hear punk bands, you don’t know what the fuck they’re saying, but you’re still all about it!” Victor quips.

Lyrically, Azeka writes their songs in English before translating it into Urdu, sometimes taking inspiration from reading poetry from books like “Flowers of Evil” by Charles Baudelaire, which was gifted to her by bandmate Victor. “I don’t like it to be a certain way. You can sing anything you want,” Azeka emphasizes. 

“There’s more stuff that I want to work on, just showcases that we are, not people want us to be,” Gil says. When listening to their discography in full for the first time, one couldn’t help but to be hypnotized by Azeka’s haunting vocals and Gil’s dizzying and meticulous production. One can hear the complexities and intricacies of each track, one different from another, showing their potential of very much being able to produce anything they please. “I think we do it because we love music,” said Gil. “We don’t do it for a certain gain. It’s being able to show our art collectively. I think it’s why we all do it.”

The band’s love for music is extremely apparent as they list some of their influences: Godflesh, Dead Can Dance, Parade Ground, an assortment of girl groups, and Bowie. Aurat draws inspiration from music from other countries including South American and Spanish post-punk music, as well as other genres such as glam rock, darkwave, disco, and techo. “We’re really influenced by those kinds of things too, whereas a lot of people try to recreate a Boy Harsher type of sound, like really accessible music that sounds like that. We try to dig deeper into previous influences and have nothing to do with that,” Gil says.   

In addition to the process and production, Aurat also takes an insane amount of pride in their performance and stage presence. Aurat typically begins their shows with produced tracks. As Gil works through his magic, his partner Azeka appears on stage, walking through the audience decked out at times in  traditional South Asian attire like her bangles, a bindi, and a sari with a candle in her hands, setting the mood with good intentions (with the hilarious innocuous comment of “Are you cursing us?” from time to time). After the produced tracks, the rest of the band appears for the live performances, performing as hard as they can as if it was their last show.

The band recalls their favorite performances like performing for King Woman at the Lodge Room where people screamed for an encore and Azeka taking off her platform heels to jump along with the crowd. It was something you had to be present for, something that you could not replicate again and again. 

“Just looking at the crowd as the space filled up with people who want to see it. It made me feel really happy about what we’ve done and what we’ve accomplished,” Dee gushes about that night. She’s been with the band since its inception, and the pure shock of seeing Aurat playing at smaller DIY venues to opening for King Woman is something that the band never thought they could see. 

For Jose, it was the Zebulon show back in December. “The sound was excellent!” he said. “I feel like it was really nice to work with people who are very serious about sound and mixing, and just live sound in general. I feel like it allows the band to shine and be heard clearly to have the music be represented how we envisioned it in that setting.” 

Perhaps what’s telling about their genuine love for the process is the way they continuously work as a unit to get things done. The band members have awfully busy lives with work and school, and balancing that can still be a challenge at times, something that more affluent bands could never comprehend. Gil brought up their process of sending basslines, lyrics, and vocal melodies via text to each other when they can’t meet up for “jam sessions”, and even recording those sessions through their iPhone recording apps in order to remember what was being done. 

Affluent bands are able to meet up and create music whenever, but Aurat finds themselves constantly wrestling with their daily lives to ensure that they are still able to create art. “I do notice that a lot of white people in bands happen to come from a substantial financial situation where they can afford to promote themselves better,” Victor noted. “A lot of them are trust fund babies and (are able to) do a lot more (and are) financially independent. Whereas we’re stuck working all the time, and struggling to find places to live and we have to miss out on shows.” Victor mentions his work schedule of having to work weekends constantly, sometimes cutting into shows that they’re booked for.

Victor is right: not everybody is privileged enough to be able to record for long periods of time, get the right and expensive equipment and studio to record in, and have the luxury of having those connections to perform at large venues simply for having a producer relative or someone within the industry to give them the unfair advantage. In fact, Aurat continues to thrive despite not having these things, but rather working hard and continuing to be genuine in their music.

Being an Urdu-singing band in a genre that caters to English-speaking white guys, the subject of race is something that has had its own share of growing pains. “It’s no secret that (other artists) are signed are predominantly white,” Azeka points out. “I think it’s important to be in this scene where it’s predominantly white and kind of being that band where it’s like, ‘Woah’. It’s hard for them to absorb, but, it’s like ‘Hey, if you guys can do it, we can do it too.’”

Victor has a different point of view. While he acknowledges that race plays a huge factor in getting more recognition through labels and magazines, he can feel that eyes are still on Aurat and other non-white bands due to the environment in Los Angeles. “I think a lot of that is in our heads because at the end of the day, we’ve been getting asked to play by everybody all the time. We never even have to pursue shows or anything like that, even within those scenes.” Victor clarifies, “At first, we were discouraged because it felt that way, but I realize the more that we’re active and the more we put ourselves out there, the more people respond and our band is in their minds.” 

The band revealed that they were offered to sign to a label, but refused because “it didn’t feel right”. 

“It didn’t feel genuine. They wanted us not because of what we played, but what we looked like,” Azeka explains. Such fears of “selling out” as a predominantly person of color band is not far-fetched as music executives are generally older white men who are more focused on trends and sales, something Aurat is simply not after. 

“For the most part, everybody’s (in the scene) pretty supportive, but subconsciously, at the back of our minds, we just don’t want to be viewed as a novelty, like a gimmick,” says Jose. “Because we’re not a gimmick, we’re a real band. We also don’t want people to be the token (band). We’re just as good as everyone else.” 

Artists of color in the past who have crossed over to the mainstream have been criticized by their own communities for making music for the masses with not much soul or depth or it’s a major deviance to their discography, including The Weeknd, Beyoncé, and BTS. Respectfully, Aurat is aware of this trend and wants to reject the idea entirely. 

“I think we make people uncomfortable only because they don’t know how to absorb it (our music). I think throughout the shows we played, I think it’s given us a confidence boost. We kind of show up and be like, ‘Oh, we’re here!’” said Azeka.

The ambiance of an Aurat show is unparalleled and unexpected. No two shows are the same, and most concert goers leave with a much more open mind than they did before. Urdu is not a typical language of choice when it comes to post-punk music, let alone hearing an expansive discography that transcends the genre itself with numerous influences across decades and geographical borders. As the lighting flashes slowly in dark jeweled tones and the band wearing mostly black, Azeka’s stirring and hypnotizing vocals would turn into shouts and screams of passion at the end of the sets, invoking a feeling of catharsis and release against Gil, Dee and Jose’s aggressive but steady rhythms on the guitars and drums.  

Making a statement is a part of Aurat’s DNA, and that level of attention based on that can generate some competition. Competitiveness can also be rampant within these communities to see who has more streams, more shows and some record deals thrown their way. The music industry in general has its own politics as to who deserves it and who doesn’t, and Aurat didn’t shy away in having their own opinions about it.

“It’s a break in the system,” Gil points out. “It’s this system is whatever you call this scene, goth music, post-punk or whatever that’s predominantly white. We want to be the one that’s a break in the system.” 

Victor however, invites the challenge. After all, they purposely and continuously stick out in every way possible from their musical production, their physical makeup of their members, their styling, their venue choices; the list is endless. Aurat is clearly proud of who they are and where they stand in the scene, and Victor did not mince his words as to how he feels about it. 

“Whether or not people like it, I don’t know if they don’t, but if they don’t…too fucking bad because it’s going to happen. We’re going to get what we want whenever we want from that scene because we’re humble people and there’s just changes coming. It’s on its way and there’s nothing people can do about it, so too bad. I don’t know what to say! That speaks volumes on what determination and talent can get you.”

“I’m not trying to sound cocky or anything, but if anyone is bitter about us playing somewhere, they’re just going to have a tough time sleeping because it ain’t gonna happen.” 

Despite being questioned of why they’re in the post-punk space or the infighting between bands, or who deserves the fame, it’s the perseverance with these barriers that allows Aurat to continue to work harder and be even more louder in their convictions of representing people of color in the scene. Individually, Aurat works on doing so by creating community within the scene. Victor throws dance nights like “Slash Dance” where he invites people to DJ and test their sets while Gil helps with the mastering and mixing of other bands’ music. The band also goes to some gatherings to connect with other local bands in the Los Angeles area.

Aurat is working on a new album, a potential vinyl release and has been going to tours all across the East Coast, South America and the Pacific Northwest all throughout 2022.

“Something I learned too is that good things take time,” Azeka elaborates. “We don’t want to rush it. We want to record it and take our time and not really want to release something ASAP. A lot of great artists go quiet for a while and they’re like, ‘Oh look, we got a new album!’ and everyone is like ‘What the hell? They were taking some time off and they came back with someone great.’ I think that we have to remind ourselves that we don’t need to force ourselves to release something right away.” 

It’s quite clear what Aurat stands for. At its core, Aurat respects and loves music and its vibrant history, challenging the way we experience it. What’s been the most compelling part about Aurat isn’t just their discography, but their dedication to their craft and unwillingness to fit neatly in the molds that were created to silence and dismiss artists of color.

“I always like to say there is no right or wrong thing to do things,” Azeka says. “Just fucking do it!” 

This profile piece is also published on WAVES as contributor.