Amrita Sen Interview
Q. For someone encountering your work for the first time, how do you introduce Amrita Sen: as a singer, a producer, or a storyteller?
I started singing really young. I was actually a wedding singer as a kid, and my parents would take me all over the U.S. to different weddings. I’d sing Bollywood songs and make anywhere from fifty to a few hundred dollars a night.
At the same time, I was training pretty seriously — every winter I’d go to India to study classical music, and when I was back in the States, I was learning opera. I didn’t think of it as anything special at the time; it was just my life, and I was really committed to getting better.
When I went to college, I stepped away from singing and ended up working on Wall Street, which felt very far from that creative world. Then in 2009, almost unexpectedly, I auditioned for the Oscar performance of Slumdog Millionaire with A.R. Rahman. I sang “Jai Ho,” and he selected me to perform.
That experience pulled me back into music in a real way — not just singing professionally again, but reconnecting with a more creative life overall. It opened the door for me to start making my own music, doing my artwork, and really trusting that side of myself again. That moment quietly changed the direction of my life.
Q. Your music often draws from folk and classical textures while living comfortably in contemporary soundscapes. How intentional is this blending?
The move back toward my Bengali roots is actually very intentional. I came back to singing later in life, and I’m not trying to pretend I’m a pop star or compete with contemporary American pop artists. That just doesn’t feel honest to who I am.
What does feel right is doing something that, out of eight billion people, only I’m really positioned to do. I live and work in the U.S., I understand the soundscape here, I’m surrounded by strong producers, and I’ve spent years working inside the music business. At the same time, my foundation is Bengali folk music — things I grew up with, like Rabindranath Tagore, Shyama Sangeet, Nazrul Geeti, all of that.
Bringing those two worlds together feels natural to me. It’s not about reinventing myself or chasing trends — it’s about blending where I come from with where I am now. That’s how I’m trying to build an identity that feels real, grounded, and not like I’m trying to be something I’m not.
Q. Tracks like Kemono and Amar Nitai feel immersive rather than just melodic. What role does atmosphere play in your songwriting process?
Great question. I think the atmospheric quality you’re hearing comes from two main things. First, I don’t really build songs around just a single lead vocal. I’m very focused on stacking — usually twenty to twenty-five layers of harmonies, doubles, and textures. There’s a lot of vocal layering in every track, and it’s honestly a pretty painstaking process, but that depth is really important to me.
The second reason is more technical. At MYST, we have a Dolby Atmos mix room, so a lot of the time we’re already thinking about how a song will live in a surround sound environment. Even when the final version isn’t released that way, having that perspective changes how we approach space, texture, and movement in the music. I think that combination, dense vocal layering and thinking spatially from the start, is what gives the songs that atmospheric feel.
Q. You perform frequently in intimate, stripped-down settings. What do these spaces allow you to explore that larger stages don’t?
I do love larger settings, and I really enjoy performing for big audiences, like when I sang with A.R. Rahman at the Oscars or at the Hollywood Bowl. Those experiences stay with you. At the same time, I’m not a pop singer, and I haven’t always had access to those kinds of large-scale opportunities as much as I might like.
For me, the mindset is simple: I sing wherever I can. If smaller, more intimate settings are what’s available, I’m grateful for that and I take them seriously. Any chance to sing live feels meaningful to me. Ideally, I’d love to perform in all kinds of spaces, big and small, because at the end of the day, singing itself is what matters most to me.
Q. As an independent artist, you wear multiple hats: singer, producer, designer. Has creative control ever felt overwhelming, or is it liberating?
Anyone who says creative control isn’t overwhelming probably isn’t telling the whole truth. I feel overwhelmed by it almost every day. But it comes from such a deep place in me that it doesn’t really feel optional.
I have a lot I need to create, a lot I want to say, and a lot I want to share. So it’s not about control for its own sake, it’s more that I don’t really have a choice. You keep creating because that’s the only honest way to be.
Q. Your visual language, costumes, artwork, staging feels deeply connected to your sound. Do visuals come before music, or does the music dictate the world around it?
Everyone has a different process. For me, it’s always been a little tricky to explain because my mind works more like a triangle. One side is music, another is visual design and aesthetic, and the third is story. They’re always influencing each other.
Every project starts differently. Sometimes a song comes first and the story grows out of that. Other times, a visual idea leads and the music follows. There are also moments where the story is what unlocks everything. With BollyDoll (an art line I created), for example, I actually started with characters, Rani and Sheena as two sisters, and the story came from there.
So there isn’t one fixed entry point for me. It really depends on where the idea originates, and then I let the other elements catch up and shape it.
Q. Many of your compositions feel rooted in emotion rather than genre. How do you decide when a song is 'finished'?
I don’t really believe creative work is ever finished. At some point, you just have to recognize the moment when continuing to work on it stops helping you and starts hurting you.
The minute it begins to feel damaging, creatively or emotionally, that’s usually the signal. Either it’s time to let it go into the world, or it’s time to put it away and move on.
Q. You often reinterpret traditional themes without nostalgia. How do you approach cultural inheritance without freezing it in time?
It does cross my mind sometimes to do very simple remakes of some of these Bengali songs. But then I try to be intentional about it. I’m always aware that no one in India, Bangladesh, the U.K., Canada, or the U.S. really needs to hear just another interpretation from someone who’s been living in America.
If people are going to listen to my work, I feel like they should at least be getting my perspective, especially the sound design I’m exposed to here, the way music is built and mixed and textured in this environment. Otherwise, I’m not sure I’m adding anything meaningful. I want the work to justify its own existence.
Q. Being an independent woman artist today comes with visibility but also pressure. How do you protect your creative instinct from algorithm-driven expectations?
I actually think the algorithm is one of the best things that’s happened to independent artists in my lifetime in the music business. It doesn’t care who you know, it rewards consistency.
The hard part is learning how to live with the noise. You have to be able to push through the negative comments, and I seem to get plenty of those, and just keep showing up. If you can do that, I really believe consistency wins over time.
Q. Live performance seems central to your identity. What does the audience give you that the studio cannot?
The audience can be really honest in a way that’s immediate. You can often tell right away if you’re not putting enough emotion into a song. And usually, if a song isn’t landing live, that’s a good indicator it’s probably not going to work as a recorded track either. In those cases, it’s usually better to move on and focus on something that really connects.
Q. What has producing your own music taught you about patience and failure?
I can produce my songs to a certain point, mainly to create a rough idea of what the song needs to sound like. But at the end of the day, you need to work with the best producers. I’ve spent over 10,000 hours honing my voice, but that also means I haven’t spent 10,000 hours learning to be a top-notch producer.
That’s why it’s important to collaborate with people who have that expertise. You can’t do everything yourself. At the same time, having enough production knowledge of your own helps you understand the direction the song needs to go, so you can communicate clearly and make better creative decisions.
Q. Do you think Indian independent music is finally listening more deeply or just louder?
The work-for-hire system in India has put a lot of artists in a tough spot. It also makes the opportunities to sing and perform very limited. In the traditional Indian system, not many people, myself included, really get the chance to perform their own music.
Independent music offers some hope, but there’s still a long way to go. The industry is largely controlled by a small group of decision-makers who can basically make or break a career. It’s changing slowly, but that concentration of power still has a big impact on who gets to be heard.
Q. If a young musician with limited resources is watching your journey, what’s the most honest advice you’d give them?
My philosophy is simple: pick a lane and hammer it. Focus on what you do best and keep at it relentlessly.
Q. Has your relationship with music changed from when you first began to now emotionally or spiritually?
No, it actually hasn’t changed. I remember being three years old and just singing a Bollywood song out of nowhere, I must have picked it up from one of the movies my mom was watching. My parents ran into the room, completely shocked, trying to figure out where the singing was coming from. When they realized it was me, I still remember the look on their faces. I even overheard my dad telling my mom, “We need to do something about this.”
That’s really who I am, and it’s always been a part of me. It’s the foundation of everything I do.
Q. If your current music phase had a colour, a fabric, and a mood what would they be?
I’d describe it as dark and nostalgic, a little forlorn, like it’s reaching for some kind of catharsis. There’s a sense of looking back, of memory and emotion tangled together, and trying to find a release through the music.
Bio:
Her passion for music began in early childhood, with singing becoming a natural part of her life from a very young age. The turning point came when A. R. Rahman gave her the opportunity to sing for Slumdog Millionaire, an experience that affirmed her path as a professional singer. Over the past decade, she has collaborated with artists and producers such as A. R. Rahman, Timbaland, Weezer, Ozomatli, and Brody Brown, among many others.
She has curated a body of work that reflects both her musical journey and her ongoing explorations. This new chapter focuses on reimagining Bengali music, bringing its rich lyrical heritage into a contemporary world-music space, shaped by modern influences while remaining deeply rooted in the poetic beauty of classic Bengali songs.
Interviewed by: Nidhi
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