Naveed Ahmed: “Strive for Excellence”

Naveed Ahmed, Flushing, Queens

Tell us about the origins of your journey as a South Asian creative. What led you down this path? What motivates you each day to do what you do?:

I grew up in a low-income Bangladeshi family in Queens, New York. While I was blessed to have a strong Bangladeshi community around me (apparently about two-thirds of America’s Bangladeshi population!), I was even more blessed to be raised in the most diverse place…on Earth? Feel free to fact check me on that. The reason why I’m so blessed is that I got to understand the common threads between a lot of first-generation American stories, not just Bangladeshis. For all of our working class communities, there was such a strong emphasis on getting a good job in STEM and lifting our families out of poverty. That academic pressure existed as long as I can remember. From fighting for seats in honors classes in elementary school, to testing for the SHSAT (shoutout Stuy, if you know you know), to college admissions, and beyond, I just assumed I’d always be in some math/science type career. I liked math from a young age so I had no qualms with it and I was a pretty relaxed kid. I did my homework. I played video games. It was simple. Until around middle school.

My mom was a big fan of music. We had photo frames of The Beatles, Michael Jackson spread out throughout our apartment. At around 12 years old, my mom encouraged me to try guitar lessons so I can do something more constructive than just playing video games all day. I gave it a shot for a few months at my local YMCA. Shoutout my dad for all the rides. I ended up falling in love with it and when I had stopped lessons at the end of summer break, I just ran with it on my own. My teenage years were spent teaching myself guitar, finding the first bands I really loved, singing at home whenever I was alone, picking up music theory along the way, putting out shitty vocal covers on Youtube with shitty USB mics/webcams, writing songs, eventually going to local shows throughout NYC in various genres and meeting people in the scene, starting my first bands/projects, recording my first songs with whatever money I could scrounge, and eventually taking my first real shot at music as a young adult with a project called In Loving Memory.

I was early in college to be an engineer when some musicians who found me through my YouTube channel approached me. By that point, I had been dropping some original music under my solo project In Loving Memory and I had always intended to turn it into a full band. These guys ended up being on the same exact page with me musically and they lived near where I went to school, so we dove into a journey with truly the wildest ups and downs. From 2014-2021 In Loving Memory would release 3 EPs and some singles. We developed a decent enough regional following where we did a couple small DIY tours, got to headline the Gramercy Theater in NYC, opened for several larger bands in our scene that I really admired. While we were certainly far from famous and still pretty far from being able to go all in on music “full time”, I can say we definitely had a strong dedicated fanbase. There are over 20 In Loving Memory tattoos out there. A few people have flown across the country to see us perform. We shipped merchandise all around the world. I’ve seen people meet through our music whose friendships have continued even when the band broke up. I’m pretty sure a baby or two has been born that would not have happened if their parents didn’t meet through our music.

All that to lead up to my answer to what motivates me each day now that I’m entering my third year as Naveed Ahmed the solo artist. In a word, impact. To confidently say I have created genuine impact upon peoples’ lives, regardless of the scale, is something I take great pride in and something I aim to only get better at. I’m in a place now where I have so much artistic clarity in how I want to build my platform to empower and advocate for the underrepresented. On a local level, that means the low-income kids of color who never dared to think a life as a professional creative could be possible for them. That means the Bangladeshis who get swept under the India rug our whole lives. That means the working class minority communities who built NYC, yet are the ones being insidiously displaced and erased by gentrification.

In your own words, why do you make your art?:

There’s a lot of change I want to see in the world. Both in my world and the world at large. Music and art in general allows me to express how I see the world and how I want to see the world. I put that energy out there with the intent of attracting like-minded people into my life whose core values and principles align.

What do you consider to be your greatest achievement thus far as a South Asian creative?:

Externally, I think the fact that a couple people out there deadass have my handwriting tattoo’d on them will always be wild to me lmaoooo.

Internally, I think I’m proudest of always fighting to be “South Asian” in my own way. I look back throughout my life and realize I never felt like I was “South Asian” in the ways I should have been, or in the ways that were expected of me. I was pulling up to high school in Hot Topic band tees, skinny jeans, and rocking Vans while all the other brown boys in NYC were copping kicks and tryna be hypebeasts. Basically I was tryna be white while they were all tryna be black lmao. I was also the only brown kid I knew who was going to concerts. I missed the boat on things like Bollywood movies. At some point, my family stopped socializing within the Bengali community. So I definitely felt “not brown enough” in many ways. But of course, and you all know how this goes. White kids will treat you almost like you’re black. Black kids will treat you almost like you’re white. East Asians will front like our collective experiences aren’t strikingly similar (shoutout colorism).

In seven years of fronting In Loving Memory, building our audience, experiencing the metal scene on a national level, I was often the only brown person (let alone person of color) in many of the spaces I was in. As I grew throughout my early 20s, I developed more of a desire to speak to the kids like me and be the type of artist that could represent the next generation of South Asians. Over time, it became clear that my legacy was not going to be built in the metal scene. This was a huge contributing factor towards me pivoting the band’s branding and music more towards alt-pop. While we made some great music at the end of our run, it was ultimately forced and it became clear I had to start fresh.

Now as a solo artist with one EP under my belt and several singles, I still struggle to answer what being South Asian means to me. While it is incredible to see how far South Asian American representation has come in the last few years alone, I know for a fact I do not feel represented by the majority of the South Asian brands/platforms/influencers/content pieces that find me. I used to feel overwhelming pressure to tailor my messaging and even my music itself to cater to the upper class/upper caste suburban Indian American demographic that has dominated the conversation on all things “South Asian”. Over time though, I’m coming to terms with it and it is informing the type of artist I need to become. It’s only natural that the South Asians who are closest in proximity to upper class whiteness will be the ones who largely control our collective narrative. Instead of complaining about it, I’m putting a lot more of my identity as a working class Bangladeshi kid from Queens into my upcoming music in 2024.

All this to sum up my biggest achievement as a South Asian creative: I’ve spent a lifetime learning who I am by learning who I’m not.

Who or what is your creative “role model” and/or serves as the greatest influence on your work?:

Honestly anyone who's taking the road not taken. On some Robert Frost shit.

What is your creative “mantra?”:

My creative mantra is the words I have tattoo’d on my chest: “Strive For Excellence”.

Pursuing music is the most grueling yet fulfilling character-building journey I could ever choose to take. I like to say that to become a great artist means to become a great person. My goal to become the best singer, instrumentalist, producer, etc I can be challenges me to develop a type of discipline that benefits me in all areas of life. To be a great performer who is capable of performing on world class stages, you basically have to be an athlete. You have to be very disciplined in your physical health. You have to eat well, sleep well, stay in shape, and practice your stage presence. Beyonce can rock a 2 hour performance with choreo in her 40s. I might get winded after a 30 minute set. There’s limitless levels of greatness to strive for.

Another big part of being an artist is having a strong image. This challenges me to look my best and express myself to the best of my ability through style and be conscious of what brands I choose to wear. When you’re speaking to people through social media content, from the stage, or in any professional setting, your charisma and speaking skills have to be top notch. To be any type of leader, you have to be very thoughtful and informed about the needs of those you represent. Am I exactly where I’d like to be in all these categories? Certainly not. But when people listen to my music, watch my content, see me perform, or even just meet me in everyday life, I want them to feel from my energy that I am someone who is deeply committed to becoming the best version of myself that I can be. And if that can inspire them in any way towards their own self-actualization, then my job is done.

Desi culture often perpetuates disapproval of creative work as a full-time profession. Have you ever faced any backlash or internal/external barriers to your creative endeavors?:

As for the whole “parents” thing, every family’s situation is different. But generally speaking, the sooner you become financially independent from them, the easier it’ll be to command a life on your own terms. At the end of the day, if they’re paying for your lifestyle, you can’t be all that upset if they disapprove of your creative pursuits. If you’re in a situation where your parents are/will become financially dependent on YOU, then it does become a lot harder to dive into something as risky as pursuing a creative career. For a lot of our parents, they won’t really “understand” any achievements we make that don’t directly translate to money. While that can be hurtful and it can cause us to feel very unseen by the people we love the most, these are some of the traumas that come with our culture and we have to do our inner work to heal from it, lead our best life in spite of it, and ensure that we don’t pass it onto our kids. I remain optimistic that as my music career picks up and financial security starts to look more attainable, my parents will eventually fully support it.

Hot take though - I’m glad my parents don’t support the idea of doing full time music. Honestly they’d be stupid if they did. I think us first-gen kids can be better at empathizing with our parents because in the world THEY grew up in decades ago, it is true that low income brown kids have no business trying to be creatives. I used to have a lot of resentment towards them when I was younger and we’d clash when they saw how much of myself I was putting into music. I don’t want to sound resentful now, because I’ve matured to a point where I feel them and I give them credit. They never stopped me from doing anything. They definitely spent several thousands for me on instruments and gear. But when it comes to a path as arduous and devotional as music is with no guarantee of success, you will inevitably be challenged, talked down to, and discouraged. Whether it comes from family, friends, or randoms in your comments. You need to develop the thick skin of carrying on in spite of that. If the people you love the most can’t divert you away from your calling, then nobody else can.

I also used to think things like “Man if my family fully supported me, I’d already have made it by now”. It may or may not be true. But I will say that I’ve seen too many *Americans* who have families that let them do whatever they want, and they have no discipline or sense of urgency for their dreams because of it. And it always infuriated me to see that privilege of a fully supportive family essentially be wasted. Diamonds are formed under pressure, as they say…

At this point, my barriers are mostly internal. Getting older definitely makes it significantly less cute to pursue music. There’s more of an expectation to be established in terms of career, income, marriage, etc. And I’ve always struggled with comparing myself against all the people I know who have now successfully actualized the same “American dream” I want to give my family, but through music. In Loving Memory had a song in 2019 where I said “Got this dream I’m chasing after, while my friends are getting Masters”. It’s 2024 now and those same friends have their PhDs too, and probably a house and are ready for marriage. Meanwhile I’m still chasing the dream…

What do you envision for yourself in your future as a South Asian creative?:

I think I’ll be looked back on as some kind of “anti-hero” in the South Asian music industry. As someone who is very outside the mainstream demographic of South Asian American, it’s an ongoing journey for me to learn my place in the larger conversation of South Asian representation. I think enough time has gone on where we’re seeing a solidified “Level 1” layer of South Asian representation. I want to push us towards Level 2 and beyond, and I’m excited to see more South Asians speaking up and calling for it. There’s so much more to brown people than strict parents, kids making fun of our lunch, and chai =/= tea. I’m also super excited to see more people speaking up about how a lot of mainstream South Asian American shared experiences revolve around being wealthy. This and other forms of South Asian classism need to be called out. The way that Indians have done to labels like “desi”, “South Asian”, and “brown” what East Asians have done to “Asian” needs to be called out. The fact that so many creators built their platforms on “representation” but remain silent about Palestine and other pressing world issues, that needs to be called out. The way a lot of South Asians want white privilege with black aesthetic, that needs to be called out. I intend to incorporate these topics more into my music and messaging. I see the early stages of what South Asian American counterculture will look like and I hope to be a positive contribution to it, because it ultimately is in the goal of bettering our overall community.

What is your advice to aspiring South Asian creatives looking to explore their own artistry - but not necessarily having the resources or the support to do it?:

I think if there’s one lesson that can be learned from my musical journey, it’s to make the most of the little you have. When I was a teenager getting into songwriting, my parents didn’t have the income to afford me music lessons on a regular basis. So I was learning as much as I could on the internet. I remember spending hours on YouTube at 13 years old, searching things like “how to write good lyrics” and “how to write catchy choruses”. I didn’t have the knowledge of how to produce myself or have the money to hire someone, so I wrote/arranged songs on shitty MIDI instruments that were intended to be played by a full band. Even transcribed vocal melodies with a violin sound. When you don’t have the luxury of well-produced recordings, you have to trust the merit of your raw composition alone. If it sounded good on low quality MIDI instruments, I knew it would slap when the day came and I had a band around myself.

When I had a lot of songs written but couldn’t find the right musicians around me in NYC to start a serious band with, I didn’t wait for anyone. I started doing Youtube covers at 15 years old with a garbage webcam/USB microphone just to try and build my own name. Then I started college and recorded my songs under the name In Loving Memory, with intent to turn it into a full band. Again, I didn’t wait for anyone and I didn’t make excuses. I wanted to start building the vision. Eventually at 19, a group of musicians found me through my YouTube channel and ended up being the guys I would turn In Loving Memory into a full band with.

Everything about ILM’s run was DIY. We grinded YouTube covers, filming, editing, and producing ourselves. We were playing local shows and grew in the NYC area organically. All 4 members of the band made new Facebook accounts for the sole intent of going on the Facebook fan pages of similar bands in our genre to add people and start conversations with them one by one to promote our music. Some of our biggest fans were made this way, starting off as random Facebook messages. Some of these fans would go on to see us live, open their homes to us on tour, and even get tattoos of our lyrics or the band logo.

We got our first touring opportunity while I was still a junior in college. It was a 3 week tour in the middle of my semester that we didn’t want to pass up. So for that time, I was an engineering student studying in the back of a van, using my iPhone hotspot to submit my assignments on Blackboard, and then playing shows at night. I then had to make up all my midterms as soon as I got back from tour.

Fast forward to when the band broke up and I started over as a solo artist in 2021. I now have less manpower to do all that needs to be done to grow a music career. I no longer have other individuals to split costs with. I now have to do everything myself. This forced me to become a lot more independent, self-sufficient, and ultimately a better artist. I’ve had to invest a lot of time and money into getting better at everything outside of just being a singer: guitar, bass, keyboards, music production, video editing, styling myself, the list goes on.

Make the most of what you have.