Desi Hip-Hop is in a wonderful place right now. We managed to compress 50+ years of Western ‘rap’ into maybe three years of our own pop-progression landscape. Listening to the tail end of new-age rappers coming out of India feels like a pacing exercise with the rest of the world. The underground is alive. Artists like Pacific Sharpeye and 14K sound truly global; assimilation is inevitable.
In that process, we’ve created classics. While ‘classic’ is an incredibly narrow, selective word, it fits our incredibly rapid evolution as a genre. Desi Hip-Hop expanded like a nuclear bomb; it created timeless, influential albums from the get-go. Bharg and Rawal’s collaborative Sab Chahiye, MC Stan’s Insaan, Dhanji’s Ruab. These are 2020s albums that have laid the groundwork for what mainstream pop-rap should sound like.
Nanku Sharma (2020) was timeless on impact. Released independently to a then-audience of around 5,000 Spotify listeners, recorded on his couch during a global pandemic, it took Nanku (erstwhile Udbhav) to 30,000+ Spotify listeners nearly overnight. While he never really explained the transition from Udbhav to Nanku, his penchant for mononyms never fails. Fans also referred to him as Shaastriji in the past. He keeps it short and simple, much like this album.
Largely credited to the breakout hit ‘Kaafizyada’, a sultry, desi slow jam with glimmering keys, an eccentric rhythm section buried in the mix, an out-of-sync video, and lyricism that’s so painfully aware of the pitfalls of being a modern lover—and a lover through modernity. The track is still every bit as brilliant as it was on first listen. He most likely noticed that his YouTube upload of ‘Kaafizyada’ was out of sync, but he went ahead with it regardless. There’s a level of “get over it” laced into every aspect of the project. ‘Jeenedo’ was the second hit—trap drums loosely placed on an old Hindi sample, looping endlessly.
There’s a home being built within this album. The cover’s a sweet photo of Nanku as a child, the album title is eponymous, he’s using his inside voice when he sings. You’re getting a very one-on-one, intimate house tour. The production seems to be reverberating from a different room; mixes are gracefully dim, verses are whispered, choruses carry muted layers. The production takes you below water level: quietly bubbling, slowly distorting vision, melting solidly—keep your goggles on for clearer views of the tour. There’s a proverbial yellow lamp showing you around.
‘Abtak’ is an underrated standout. Every line is a question, never to be answered or solved. The production (amazing across the board, courtesy of the brilliant Toorjo Dey, a longtime collaborator known for his work bridging classic Bollywood sounds with modern-day arrangements) on ‘Abtak’ gradually picks up layers that end in a splash, like the bottom of a waterfall.
Overall, go visit Nanku Sharma. It’s a seminal work, based in the very roots of our genre, and would fail if it wasn’t this up-close and personal. Honesty comes quietly to those with nothing to prove.
Listen here:
Apple: https://music.apple.com/in/album/nanku-sharma/1773286064
Spotify: https://spotify.link/YJ5V2feiQXb
About the Author — Mannav Jaisinghani
Mannav Jaisinghani is a Bombay-based writer, editor, curator, producer, photographer — and an unmistakably bold cultural voice. His work blends music criticism, visual culture, and narrative experimentation, making him one of the sharpest young commentators in India’s contemporary arts scene.
