'Yelling about oppression': What it took for a musician who doesn't fit the mould to break into the industry

Kid Pharaoh’s song Jesus Looks Like Me went viral, but when he produced music that didn’t touch on oppression, record labels weren’t interested.

Kid Pharaoh, the artist who wrote the song Jesus Looks Like Me. Credit: Source: Supplied Credit: Shaq Azhar

Insight asks if a push for diversity contributes to tokenism. Watch Politically Incorrect on Tuesday, February 21 from 8.30pm on SBS or On Demand here.

Growing up as an Egyptian in Australia, representation was a luxury I was long starved of. It was something that weighed heavy on me and I felt compelled to unpack.

In April 2018, I released a song that unbeknownst to me, would become my breakout single. Jesus Looks Like Me criticised the depiction of a white Jesus throughout history, from my perspective as a Middle Eastern man.

It was a raw and unapologetic offering, and one from a unique background in the context of Australian music. It resonated with people far and wide, opening career doors that I had been trying to break down for years. Label executives and A&Rs (Artists and Repertoire or talent agencies) swarmed, asking to meet with me and hear more music.

Kid Pharaoh is an Egyptian-Australian musician.

The song is, without a doubt, is one of my proudest achievements. Simultaneously, it could also be one of my biggest burdens. Songs about race and identity are quintessential to my experience, and will always be a staple in my catalogue. They’re cathartic, but are only meant to serve as a fraction of a full experience.

Jesus Looks Like Me criticised the depiction of a white Jesus throughout history, from my perspective as a Middle Eastern man.

Kid Pharaoh

The intention I had in creating 'Jesus' was for it to act as just a piece of the puzzle on the album it lived on. When I sent the rest of the album to these executives and producers, the radio silence I received in return told me they didn’t find the treasure they so desired.

It was clear in years to come that the song had confined me to this box that people struggled to see beyond. I received feedback from outlets that follow-up songs I delivered weren’t as "compelling". I took that as meaning they didn’t feature enough stamping of my feet and yelling about oppression.

Limiting one to a fraction of their experience is to treat their voice as valuable for only one thing and worthless otherwise.

It was clear in years to come that the song had confined me to this box that people struggled to see beyond.

Kid Pharaoh

In the pursuit of becoming a multi-dimensional artist, it felt like a means of creating singularity for the convenience of categorisation. This phenomenon became so much of a chip on my shoulder that it led to the creation of Sand Monkey - a song that hit out against tokenism and questioned the motives of the industry.

Kid Pharaoh and comedian Akmal Saleh.

Egyptian-Australian comedian, Akmal Saleh was the one Egyptian I saw on Australian TV growing up. When I asked him to feature in the video, I asked him to speak directly from experience. I felt like he could tell me something I needed to hear.

He had a clear perspective: to use cultural difference to your advantage. He told me that I stand out, and am exotic in a country like Australia. Akmal asked me to imagine trying to break through back in Egypt amongst 100 million people that look just like me. He had a point and it challenged me to put my ego aside.

He told me that I stand out, and am exotic in a country like Australia.

Kid Pharaoh

Feelings of anger and resentment were used to fuel an important song that wouldn’t exist had these experiences not shaped them. This internal conflict of questioning my place is one that has been present for some time, it can be a never-ending cycle.

Calling for an external change to an entire industry is a near-impossible task. Instead, to shift your own mentality and teach yourself to manoeuvre comes at much less of a cost.