My arrival in America was not a mere coincidence. This country is the birthplace of rap; this genre has its origins right here. Every individual involved in rap and hip-hop has long cherished the dream of visiting America at least once in their lifetime, much like wushu masters who aspire to visit the Shaolin temple. I have made several short trips to the United States, but one day I found myself pondering what it would be like to remain there for a whole year–just a year, nothing beyond that. Following my dreams without a concrete plan, I took a leap of faith and went. I visited friends in Florida, New York, and Pennsylvania. Ultimately, I decided to settle in Chicago. With the help of acquaintances, I landed a job in an office and began working for a logistics company. I had initially envisioned myself working for a year and then returning back.
I found America almost as I had anticipated. If you diligently labor and apply your intellect, it is indeed possible to achieve something significant. This phenomenon is known as the “American Dream”– the opportunity for anyone to become who they aspire to be. Many of my friends have accomplished far more than they initially expected, while some could not. Actually, this reality exists throughout the world: if you strive and work hard, you will find your place. A person must possess self-belief and maintain relentless perseverance in their endeavors.
My journey has taken on a deeper spiritual significance for me. I hadn’t planned to sing; I did not approach it as an artist. I embarked on an adventure in search of a new beginning. You know the ascetics of the past–I was much like them. I set off with the desire to start life anew. I found everything delightful: new friends, new life, new challenges, and joys, as if I were not living my own life but rather part of a cinematic experience…
The most unexpected difficulty was the COVID pandemic. I was planning to return home, but the virus that engulfed the world halted flights. Alone in my small apartment in Chicago, I faced the unbearable anguish of being separated from my children, unable to hold them close or indulge them as I wished. I suffered from loneliness. Many have experienced this, so I won't dwell on the details. However, as they say, “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger." Confined to my apartment, I began working on a new album to keep myself sane. This album was not about cars, money, or women. Suddenly, everything faded into the background. My emotions intensified, and the album emerged as something entirely different from what I had recorded in Tashkent up until that point. I had the time to reflect on myself, my loved ones, and concepts that had once seemed ordinary. I cannot yet explain why my new album feels somewhat heavier than its predecessors–whether it's the impact of the lockdownor a new stage of maturity. The only thing I know for sure is that everything eventually comes to an end. I could wallow in endless suffering, but I could also learn from it. As it has been said, grief is a choice. You choose whether to suffer or to heal. The best choice I made was to emerge from all these challenges with a beautiful album.
To me, the concept of motherland has never appeared as an elevated or distant notion. Regardless of how lofty it may sound, my homeland has always been an intrinsic part of me. Instead of discussing this here, it would be more enlightening for you to listen to my song “O‘zbekiston jism-u jon aro" from my new album, wherein you will grasp the essence of what I wish to convey.
Interview by TILLANISO.
