Written by Wyles Daniel
In a time when art and advocacy increasingly intersect, Mama! I Can’t Breathe, a recent work from musician and activist Amrit Kohli, offers a powerful meditation on justice, identity, and collective memory. More than a reaction to headlines, the record weaves decades of songwriting into a tapestry of lived experience and social commentary, presenting music as both a personal diary and a public statement.
Spanning material written between 1997 and 2024, the album draws from Amrit’s background and years of observing global struggles for equality. While deeply rooted in their personal perspective, the project resonates on a universal level, touching on themes of grief, hope, resilience, and the ongoing pursuit of dignity for marginalized communities. The music asks listeners not only to hear but to reflect and to witness.
Although the album’s title references the heartbreaking final words of George Floyd, it notably does not contain a track by that name. Instead, it opens with “George Floyd, #SayHisName,” immediately establishing the emotional and political tone. From there, the record unfolds into layered narratives addressing racism, resilience, Black and Brown identity, and queer liberation. Amrit’s message is unmistakable: music can function as a memorial, a rallying cry, and a form of resistance.
Beyond Floyd’s legacy, the album expands toward a global awareness. Echoes of other humanitarian crises, such as the ongoing struggles of Palestinian communities, emerge in the lyrics, reminding audiences that the pursuit of justice transcends borders. These connections may be challenging, even polarizing, but they are presented with the clear intent of fostering empathy and reflection rather than division.
This is not Amrit’s first time confronting difficult subjects. Earlier projects, including the album 9/11, explored the intersections of national trauma, identity, and public discourse. With songs such as “Amerika” and “Boys Can Love Boys,” Amrit has consistently challenged societal norms, urging listeners to confront uncomfortable truths. Improvisational tracks like “They Were Martyrs of Christ,” a haunting tribute to the victims of the Charleston church shooting, underscore the immediacy and spiritual depth behind Amrit’s creative process.
Yet, despite their commitment, Amrit acknowledges the difficulty of navigating these conversations, especially in politically sensitive environments. Some venues have declined to host performances, and reactions from the public have been mixed. For Amrit, however, the measure of success is not universal approval but whether the music sparks dialogue. While reception in the U.S. has been complex, international audiences have often proven more open to the themes of solidarity, justice, and remembrance.
Looking ahead, Amrit is preparing for a new artistic chapter. Following the sociopolitical focus of Crucify Me, 9/11, and now Mama! I Can’t Breathe, the next project will pivot toward a more introspective sound. Still grounded in themes of justice and identity, it will lean more heavily into personal storytelling, bridging the intimate and the universal in a way that continues to challenge, but also invite, audiences.
At its core, Mama! I Can’t Breathe is more than a collection of songs. It is an album that refuses to turn away from injustice, even when doing so carries personal and professional costs. Through music, Amrit invites listeners into a space of reflection and resilience, ultimately pointing toward hope.
In the end, Amrit’s work is not just about sound but about truth. It is an unrelenting demand for justice, a reminder that art can bear witness when silence feels safer. In a world where activism often comes at a price, Mama! I Can’t Breathe stands as a fearless artistic statement, one that refuses to be silenced.
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