Latest news with #British-Bangladeshi
Yahoo
11-07-2025
- Automotive
- Yahoo
British mountaineer says K2 challenge is ‘one of the world's toughest'
British-Bangladeshi mountaineer Akke Rahman is aiming to climb the world's second highest peak, K2. The 42-year-old hopes to reach the summit before the end of July. Located on the border of Pakistan and China, K2 has a reputation for being extremely challenging to climb because of its steep slopes, avalanches and unpredictable weather. Mr Rahman, based in Oldham, Greater Manchester, is attempting to climb the 14 highest peaks in the world. He started out in climbing by scaling Snowdon in Wales in 2019. In 2020, Mr Rahman climbed Mount Kilimanjaro and Mont Blanc within a week and, later that year, he broke the UK record for climbing Russia's Elbrus – Europe's tallest mountain – after reaching the summit in less than 24 hours. In 2022, he became the first British Muslim to reach the summit of Mount Everest, the world's tallest mountain. He has raised more than £1 million for charity during his mountaineering career. Mr Rahman said compared with other mountains, K2 is 'one of the world's toughest'. He went on: 'When I discovered climbing, I knew I wanted to keep challenging myself by summiting more and more mountains.' Luke Broad, UK brand director for car manufacturer Dacia, which is providing funding to support Mr Rahman's K2 attempt, said: 'Dacia is a brand with outdoor spirit. 'There is no better way of showing our support for adventure and the great outdoors than to support Akke. 'We are really impressed with his drive and determination, so we are proud to support his next challenge.'
The Hindu
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
Mumzy Stranger Returns with ‘Ki Kori'
It is a homecoming of sorts for the British-Bangladeshi rapper, singer-songwriter, and record producer Mumzy Stranger with the recently-released 'Ki Kori' ('What Can I Do' in Bengali) featuring American artiste Muza. In an interview, Mumzy says 'Ki Kori' is not just another musical experiment, but a deeply personal, global statement. He opens up about the song's creation, creative collaborations, his evolution, and why he still leads the way in shaping global South Asian music. Excerpts from the interview: What led to the creation of 'Ki Kori'? Was it a lyric, a beat, or a conversation? The first spark for 'Ki Kori' came during a studio session when DJ Lyan (British songwriter and producer) laid down a beat loop that immediately resonated with me. I started vibing to it and dropped a melody on the spot, which got the whole team excited. Later, we sat down with the writer and spoke about those moments in relationships where you feel helpless, asking yourself, 'Ki kori?' or 'What can I even do?' That emotional space became the heart of the track. Everything flowed organically from there. You have always blended R&B and South Asian sounds; what new elements did you consciously bring to 'Ki Kori'? While blending R&B with South Asian sounds is part of my musical identity, with 'Ki Kori' I aimed to elevate that fusion. I focused on a deeper emotional tone, both musically and lyrically. DJ Lyan's beat added a fresh cultural vibe, while I leaned into a moody, minimal melody. We gave the production space to let the emotion breathe. Vocally, I kept it raw and honest, weaving in Bengali phrases for cultural richness. The result is still me, but more stripped back, emotionally real, and cooler in tone, offering something familiar yet more evolved and universally relatable. How did working with Muza, a New Yorker, influence your creative process on this track? Working with Muza brought a fresh dimension to the track. His slick, sharp New York energy added a creative edge that pushed the vibe further. It wasn't just a feature — it was a collaboration that made me approach my own parts with more energy and spontaneity. The chemistry was natural, and the session flowed effortlessly. His input truly helped shape 'Ki Kori' into something more dynamic and globally resonant. Was it always meant to be a collaboration, or did the idea of bringing Muza in happen along the way? 'Ki Kori' began as a personal project with my team and wasn't initially planned as a collaboration. But when Muza was in the UK for a show, we linked up in the studio. I played him the track, and he instantly vibed with it. I suggested he jump on, and he was all in. We recorded his part before he flew out. It came together so naturally and effortlessly that it felt like it was always meant to be a collaboration from the start. How was the storyline planned for the video? I handed the creative reins to Sameer at Desi Trill — he has got an eye for visuals. He built a fun concept that matched the song's energy, focusing on attitude, style, and performance rather than just heartbreak. The result was a slick, cinematic, performance-driven video. Sometimes a video can completely shift how people experience a song. Was there a balance you consciously thought of? Absolutely. With 'Ki Kori,' I wanted the video to complement the track's emotion, not overpower it. The goal was to enhance the listener's connection without distracting from the rawness of the song. We struck that balance by keeping the visuals simple yet powerful, performance-based, with just the right energy to elevate the vibe. You were one of the first to bring South Asian influences into UK urban music. How do you see the Global South Asian sound evolving? It is incredible to witness how the South Asian sound has grown. When I first blended it with UK urban music, it was still niche. Now, it is a global force. Artistes are fusing traditional instruments with electronic beats and cultural melodies with modern vibes, making the sound more dynamic and accessible. It Is no longer confined to one space, it is everywhere. The world is finally appreciating the richness and versatility of South Asian music. This movement is expanding fast, and we are only scratching the surface. When you think of your early hits like 'One More Dance' or 'Come My Way', how do you feel your sound and storytelling have evolved by the time of 'Ki Kori'? 'One More Dance' was about breaking barriers, being a South Asian artiste in R&B and proving we belong. With 'Come My Way,' I began blending in my own languages, experimenting with identity. There were no rules, just a drive to try something new. By 'Ki Kori,' that journey matured. The sound became more refined, the emotion deeper, and the storytelling intentional. I'm still blending cultures, but now with clarity and purpose. Over the years, how has your relationship with your Bangladeshi roots evolved through your music? Initially, my Bangladeshi roots were more of a background influence as I focused on making waves in the UK scene with R&B, grime, and dancehall. But over time, I've grown to embrace my heritage. Incorporating Bengali language and sounds into my music has deepened my connection with both the culture and fans across the diaspora. Is there a story behind Muhammad Mumith Ahmed changing his stage name to Mumzy Stranger? 'Mumzy' came naturally, it was a nickname people from my area started using early on, and it just stuck. The 'Stranger' part came later. I always felt like I was doing something different — an outsider blending R&B with South Asian roots at a time when that wasn't common. I was stepping into spaces where someone like me was not expected. So 'Stranger' represented being unique, not fitting into boxes, and owning that identity.
Yahoo
26-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Opinion - What Trump will never understand about the Kennedy Center
As one of the foremost performing arts institutions in the country, the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington has long provided a voice to the country that is hard to distinguish ideologically. The Trump administration's hostile takeover aims to change that. In February, Trump fired the Kennedy Center's leadership and appointed himself chair. He wishes to end DEI and 'woke' programming and instead showcase classics. Many artists canceled. Others stayed, noting that art speaks for itself. Last week, the administration fired more senior officials there, and the ones who have stayed note they live in fear. Two instances, one involving an 'avant-garde' program and the other a traditional one, provide counterpoints to Trump's unpolished maneuvers at the Center. On the avant-garde, this month the Center presented the celebrated British-Bangladeshi choreographer-dancer Akram Khan's retelling of the classic Indian epic the Mahabharata in 70 minutes of spell-binding dance. Khan's choreography and music blend several classical Indian genres. The avant-garde lies in pushing the boundaries of the old to create something new. Like every other place on earth, the 'puritans' in India can often be heard complaining when their notion of the 'classical' changes. To the Kennedy Center audiences, Khan represents globalized arts. Like foreign-manufactured goods in a tariffs-obsessed Washington, that label might itself make people think that Khan's dance forms with non-white people are part of DEI. Khan's Mahabharata is called 'Gigenis.' The title comes from Greek mythology, meaning earth-born. Khan's genius: Indian classical dance is earth-bound, while in Western ballet feet take flight. In signaling Greek mythology and in re-presenting an Indian epic, we expect a drama of epic proportions. Khan's program notes explain the Mahabharata as a story about a 'family breaking up because they want power. I used that idea to revisit that old story of what power and greed can do to a family and what it can do to people.' We reflect on epics like we reflect on our families. After the passions, wars and killings, we are left wondering about our history. We look back at the Homeric myths the same way that we see Mahabharata. We see our heroics and frailties in these epics. Storytellers — be they filmmakers, novelists or choreographers — provide the contemporary meanings. They contain multitudes. Let's now turn to something traditional: opera. The Kennedy Center continually presents some of the most conservative performances of opera anywhere in the world, foremost in its stage and artistic directions. Characters in 'Macbeth' appear in vaguely Scottish costumes, Madama Butterfly wears a kimono and characters in 'Tosca' wear what we think they wore in 19th-century Rome. One would be hard put to find such performances anywhere in the opera strongholds of Berlin, Paris or New York Every now and then, the Kennedy Center breaks out of its shell to present new works, such as the current offering of an opera about Steve Jobs, or an earlier opera about drones in warfare, are examples. These are American stories, and the Kennedy Center is the appropriate place to premier them. Opera — like all art — in 21st century must create new meanings, sometimes through the insights of critical theory (there, I said it, even though libertarians such as myself recoil from it). In this vein, Edward Said, one of the founders of critical theory, notes in his essay about Verdi's 'Aida' that although this opera was written as an imperial project for the opening of the Suez Canal, knowing its politics need not deter us from enjoying the music. Edward Said himself paved the way. With the Jewish conductor Daniel Barenboim, he founded the Barenboim-Said Academy in Berlin after creating the Divan Orchestra, which brings together Israeli, Palestinian and Middle Eastern musicians. This is the Said who taught in the Middle East Studies department at Columbia University and has so rankled Trump's allegedly pro-Jewish sympathies. The Said-Barenboim academy finds new meanings in Wagner, Hitler's favorite composer, who was mostly banned in Israel for decades. The Robert Bosch Academy, where I am a fellow, is located opposite the Said-Barenboim Academy in Berlin. The fellows met with Barenboim himself a few years ago. I asked Barenboim how he found music in Wagner and other composers when his dear friend Said found politics. He looked at me intently and said, 'We disagreed on that sometimes. I always find the music.' Barenboim's statement could mean that he saw more than critical theory in music. Most of us would agree. We should also reflect on the fact that a Jewish conductor was eager to play Wagner, while his Palestinian critical theorist friend would hesitate. Art is almost always pluralistic and polysemic. Trump's ideas of 'non-woke' programming will be a failure, foremost because institutions like the Kennedy Center have always presented the traditional even when presenting the avant-garde. To go to the right of the traditional is the path toward cultural fascism. President Kennedy's legacy to our country is bedecked with quotes from him. One of them reads, 'And I look forward to an America which commands respect throughout the world not only for its strength but for its civilization as well. And I look forward to a world which will be safe not only for democracy and diversity but also for personal distinction.' Trump's performative spectacles, like his hostile takeover of the Kennedy Center, are almost always crude pronouncements of undemocratic strength. To have a poet or a singer sing his song, he would need to show some art or grace. With the subtlety of Attila the Hun, Trump is unlikely to deliver. J.P. Singh is Distinguished University Professor at Schar School of Policy and Government at George Mason University and Richard von Weizsäcker Fellow with the Robert Bosch Academy (Berlin). He is co-editor-in-chief of Global Perspectives. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
The Hill
26-04-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hill
What Trump will never understand about the Kennedy Center
As one of the foremost performing arts institutions in the country, the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington has long provided a voice to the country that is hard to distinguish ideologically. The Trump administration's hostile takeover aims to change that. In February, Trump fired the Kennedy Center's leadership and appointed himself chair. He wishes to end DEI and 'woke' programming and instead showcase classics. Many artists canceled. Others stayed, noting that art speaks for itself. Last week, the administration fired more senior officials there, and the ones who have stayed note they live in fear. Two instances, one involving an 'avant-garde' program and the other a traditional one, provide counterpoints to Trump's unpolished maneuvers at the Center. On the avant-garde, this month the Center presented the celebrated British-Bangladeshi choreographer-dancer Akram Khan's retelling of the classic Indian epic the Mahabharata in 70 minutes of spell-binding dance. Khan's choreography and music blend several classical Indian genres. The avant-garde lies in pushing the boundaries of the old to create something new. Like every other place on earth, the 'puritans' in India can often be heard complaining when their notion of the 'classical' changes. To the Kennedy Center audiences, Khan represents globalized arts. Like foreign-manufactured goods in a tariffs-obsessed Washington, that label might itself make people think that Khan's dance forms with non-white people are part of DEI. Khan's Mahabharata is called 'Gigenis.' The title comes from Greek mythology, meaning earth-born. Khan's genius: Indian classical dance is earth-bound, while in Western ballet feet take flight. In signaling Greek mythology and in re-presenting an Indian epic, we expect a drama of epic proportions. Khan's program notes explain the Mahabharata as a story about a 'family breaking up because they want power. I used that idea to revisit that old story of what power and greed can do to a family and what it can do to people.' We reflect on epics like we reflect on our families. After the passions, wars and killings, we are left wondering about our history. We look back at the Homeric myths the same way that we see Mahabharata. We see our heroics and frailties in these epics. Storytellers — be they filmmakers, novelists or choreographers — provide the contemporary meanings. They contain multitudes. Let's now turn to something traditional: opera. The Kennedy Center continually presents some of the most conservative performances of opera anywhere in the world, foremost in its stage and artistic directions. Characters in 'Macbeth' appear in vaguely Scottish costumes, Madama Butterfly wears a kimono and characters in 'Tosca' wear what we think they wore in 19th-century Rome. One would be hard put to find such performances anywhere in the opera strongholds of Berlin, Paris or New York Every now and then, the Kennedy Center breaks out of its shell to present new works, such as the current offering of an opera about Steve Jobs, or an earlier opera about drones in warfare, are examples. These are American stories, and the Kennedy Center is the appropriate place to premier them. Opera — like all art — in 21st century must create new meanings, sometimes through the insights of critical theory (there, I said it, even though libertarians such as myself recoil from it). In this vein, Edward Said, one of the founders of critical theory, notes in his essay about Verdi's 'Aida' that although this opera was written as an imperial project for the opening of the Suez Canal, knowing its politics need not deter us from enjoying the music. Edward Said himself paved the way. With the Jewish conductor Daniel Barenboim, he founded the Barenboim-Said Academy in Berlin after creating the Divan Orchestra, which brings together Israeli, Palestinian and Middle Eastern musicians. This is the Said who taught in the Middle East Studies department at Columbia University and has so rankled Trump's allegedly pro-Jewish sympathies. The Said-Barenboim academy finds new meanings in Wagner, Hitler's favorite composer, who was mostly banned in Israel for decades. The Robert Bosch Academy, where I am a fellow, is located opposite the Said-Barenboim Academy in Berlin. The fellows met with Barenboim himself a few years ago. I asked Barenboim how he found music in Wagner and other composers when his dear friend Said found politics. He looked at me intently and said, 'We disagreed on that sometimes. I always find the music.' Barenboim's statement could mean that he saw more than critical theory in music. Most of us would agree. We should also reflect on the fact that a Jewish conductor was eager to play Wagner, while his Palestinian critical theorist friend would hesitate. Art is almost always pluralistic and polysemic. Trump's ideas of 'non-woke' programming will be a failure, foremost because institutions like the Kennedy Center have always presented the traditional even when presenting the avant-garde. To go to the right of the traditional is the path toward cultural fascism. President Kennedy's legacy to our country is bedecked with quotes from him. One of them reads, 'And I look forward to an America which commands respect throughout the world not only for its strength but for its civilization as well. And I look forward to a world which will be safe not only for democracy and diversity but also for personal distinction.' Trump's performative spectacles, like his hostile takeover of the Kennedy Center, are almost always crude pronouncements of undemocratic strength. To have a poet or a singer sing his song, he would need to show some art or grace. With the subtlety of Attila the Hun, Trump is unlikely to deliver.
