The daughter of a militant Tamil activist, Maya Arulpragasam found herself caught up in the middle of a conflict that led her family to seek refuge in a west London council estate. Now, as MIA, she's taking the world by storm with her eclectic infusion of music and politics. She talks to Jim Carroll
Her name is Maya Arulpragasam, but we will know her from this point on as MIA. That's Missing in Acton, she says, not Missing in Action, referring to the west London suburb she called home when she took on that moniker. Home these days is wherever MIA lays her hat or plugs in her boom box. Sometimes it's the US, sometimes it's back in old London town. Sometimes, she thinks, her real home is still Sri Lanka, the country where she spent 10 years as civil war raged all around her.
When you hear MIA's debut album, Arular, for the first time, you'll probably be as confused by what you hear as MIA is about where she's from. Listen to it again and again, though, and it will blow your mind. Mixed-up music for mixed-up times; there's a riot going on.
Snatches of baile funk from the Rio favelas, rough-and-ready Jamaican dancehall riddims, bubbling Indian sounds of every hue, a big fat gob of old-school hip-hop fervour: Arular is a crazy, joyful transglobal musical conspiracy. Add in the whoops of attitude and anger from its smart, sassy, brainy protagonist, and you have an album which downloads the future right in front of your eyes.
"China is growing up on hip-hop and Miami bass is going to Brazil and being interpreted as baile funk, so I think it's time to let go of old ways of viewing music," says MIA nonchalantly. "I grew up in England, with so many sounds around me, that I tried to stay real to what I am. I am a mixture of lots of different things and I get my inspiration to make music from so many different things. So naturally, it came out like that."
If the music wasn't amplified enough, MIA's own background is just as loud. Born in London, Maya moved with her family to Sri Lanka when she was an infant. Her father wanted to support the Tamil people's attempts to win independence from the majority Sinhalese population. As he (the Arular of the album title) became more embedded with militant Tamils, Maya and her family moved from one relative's house to another. By the time she was 11, her mother had decided enough was enough and took her three kids back to London, where they were housed on a council estate.
MIA remembers the shock of growing up as a refugee, with every day bringing new experiences. She discovered hip-hop and spent hours and hours listening and learning. After school she headed to Central St Martins Art School, but it was making a documentary about Elastica's US tour which provided the real further education. MIA was tutored by Elastica support act Peaches in the art of beatboxing, and music took over the headspace previously allocated to art and documentaries
Now, everyone wants a piece of her and she gives as good as she gets. After early internet exposure (the fascinating Piracy Funds Terrorism mix-tape with Diplo getting the word out in treble-quick time), it's time for everyone else to learn MIA's name, music and views.
America, she says, can't get enough of this. "They think I'm not saying enough, they want more. But in Britain I get the 'oh, well, she hasn't done political studies in university' line when I start talking."
You can tell that this really annoys her. "When is the last time Britain did something musically that America can't do? Dizzee is my mate, but it's hard for him to compete because the Americans do the whole rap thing so much better. It's hard for Jamelia to compete with the likes of Beyoncé. But what's the one thing you won't get in America, especially in times like this? A mixed-up foreigner like me.
"I couldn't have grown up there, I could only have come up in so-called multi-cultural Britain. I'm not going to talk about saris and running away from an arranged marriage. That shit is old and tired like the Kumars or Bhaji on the Beach. My issues are more complex than that."
She's certainly a refreshing change from most British acts who shamble their way towards a microphone. "I know how British music works. To be in an indie band, you have to avoid saying anything. Once you stand for something, you get crucified in Britain. No one from my generation can really stand up for anything because we're scared we get ripped to shreds."
MIA is not afraid to open her mouth and let rip. Because of her, more people are hearing about Sri Lanka. "I talk about Sri Lanka because Sri Lanka needs the attention," she says, "and the Tamil people have had little access to the press over the last 17 years. If my presence is provoking discussion and debate about Sri Lanka, that's a good thing. But I don't have answers; all I am doing is reflecting what it's like to be a civilian caught up in war, coming to a Western foreign country, rebuilding your life and trying to make sense of being who you are."
She's also waiting for the fuss about her background to stop overshadowing what she has to say. "It gets tiring because people have not yet progressed to level two of the discussion. Level one is just my background, but level two is the fact that people and politics can't be separated. Some people diss me for having political views and say that my opinions aren't very well thought out, but if I had a PhD in politics, I'd be a politician, not a musician."
Arular is just the opening salvo in the MIA story, and this bright spark still has a lot in the engine. She just signed a deal with Interscope Records in the United States, which opens a whole new set of doors for her.
"I have the opportunity now to work with whoever I want to, whether that's hip-hop or indie rock, but I haven't chosen a camp to land in yet. No one from England has done it yet and I'd do it just for that. Just to be this Sri Lankan girl doing what no one expected her to do. If Missy wants to work with me, I'll do it.
"I think I'll stick around just to see how far you can go when people say you can't do it."
Arular is on XL Recordings
