Having performed a sold-out show at the Sydney Opera House for Vivid,as well as being handpicked by Baz Luhrmann to perform atVogue’sElvis premiere party at Sydney’s The Ivy,she’s become a front-runner in the competitive new wave of the Australian hip-hop and R&B scene in western Sydney,a mini-boom that includes global breakouts OneFour as well as Hooligan Hefs,Manu Crooks,Becca Hatch and more.
But when I ask her what the story of western Sydney would sound like if expressed in music,A.Girl,real name Hinenui-terangi Tairua,is immediately on the back foot. “In my videos,there’s no gang affiliation stuff,even though the title[of my song] is the Granville postcode.”
For the first time in its history,Australian hip-hop is making waves around the world,earning millions of streams with a bare-knuckle sound that has been riddled with controversy and struggled to find mainstream acceptance at home.
The booming scene from western Sydney was sparked by the emergence of the ultra-violent drill subgenre,a genre born in Chicago last decade and developed in the UK,where rappers reference real street violence in their lyrics. While garnering millions of fans,it’s been criticised heavily by NSW Police for its role in glorifying the postcode gang wars that have dominated headlines over the past few years.
A.Girl is among the leading new wave of hip-hop artists from Western Sydney.Janie Barrett
So controversial has music from the region become,NSW Police effectively banned OneFour,an all-Pasifika four-piece from Mount Druitt who attained success with their gritty depictions of youth violence,from performing live,over fears of violence and “antisocial behaviour” at their gigs. OneFour asserted at the time of the ban there had been no arrests or violence at any of their previous concerts.
Some argue it is censorship,keeping marginalised voices outside the national conversation,while others assert that these kinds of artists are criminals with microphones. The tension has derailed the more hopeful messages of the scene,and artists seeking to present a positive image of their misunderstood world have suffered.
“Stabbings have been real. There’s even been shootings. It happens,” A.Girl says. But she hopes to bypass such distractions and use her art to piece together the broken pieces of the place she calls home,the “area”.
“I don’t glorify what goes on in the area,” she says. “I’m wanting to be like,this is my truth:a bunch of kids hanging out at the shops,in my housing commission home,on a basketball court,because this is me and this is where I’m from.”
Since its inception,the bones of hip-hop have been carved by urban melancholy. As some speak truth to power and politics,others speak truth to the streets. Hip-hop doesn’t ask for opinions;the movement forces the world to hear and witness that other world,on the margins of comfort zones. And in the past several years,the genre has come to define modern popular music,surpassing both pop and rock in influence and popularity.
Yet the hip-hop scene predominantly exists outside of mainstream consciousness in Australia,with local artists reaching millions of listeners on YouTube and Spotify. This self-contained ecosystem has led artists and producers to create,develop and rely on their own communities. The culture’s roots were in DIY,with artists in makeshift studios sharing and expressing their stories by any means:rap,R&B,turntabling,graffiti,breakdance,zines and videos.
There’s diversity in the sound,and in the mission. A.Girl,for example,wants to create more creative avenues for women from western Sydney. “They don’t even need to be artists;they can be photographers,they can be fashion designers,they can be web designers,” she says. “We’re just trying to build a group of girls to come together and be in a room of creative females and not feel so overpowered and dominated by the male industry.”
But there’s another battle at work,one between A. Girl’s sense of western Sydney and the one that those outside of the region hold. In her music video for single2142,A.Girl croons “can’t really guarantee I’ll be a good girl,I’m not the fitting image for a good world”,before the music cuts to three white women watching news reports of stabbings and shootings in Granville.
Merrylands rapper Ay Huncho has drawn fans for his uncompromising hits,and police attention for his alleged links to the Alameddine crime family.Supplied
“It is what they see – a bunch of dudes with[balaclavas] on. They’re not looking behind the mask,” she says,reflecting on accusations that the scene glorifies gang culture. “Before they can say it’s because of the music,they’re not seeing the other side of our story – like,why? Why are these boys living this lifestyle?”
A.Girl’s music journey started when she was young. The oldest child,she was forced to look after her siblings after the death of several family members. “When I wanted to escape,all I had was music,” she says. “It was the only thing that could get me through whatever it was I was dealing with at the time.”
In her view,the way “the area” has been represented in the media has flamed misconceptions. “I’ll never forget when Seven News went out to Mount Druitt to do a story and the reporter was wearing a bulletproof vest. I was like ‘this is f---ing ridiculous.’ Like,what story are you trying to paint about the west right now? What story is that telling the rest of Australia?”
Her tone softens. “The real message is that we’re hurt. We’re in pain. This is our life and we want to choose different but we’re stuck in a trap,we’re stuck in a loop. Behind all these boys’ music is just,like,hurt and pain,a mad suffering.”
Ay Huncho,a Merrylands rapper,has been in the spotlight because of his alleged role in the Alameddine crime family,which police have called “one of Sydney’s most dangerous crime families”. This year,the rapper has released hit after hit,racking up millions of streams online.
When we meet to share an Afghan meal,Ay Huncho is always smiling,wearing diamond-encrusted shades and a Louis Vuitton coat. But there’s another side to him behind the luxury exterior. He echoes A.Girl’s sentiment.
“I have a story. I’ve lived through an alleged[gang] war. I’m here to tell my side of the story. I’m not telling anyone else to do it. But this is my story and I have the right to tell it,so if you want to listen,then listen.
“This interview is a way for me to tell my fans straight out:don’t go down this path. Listen to the stories but,I’m telling you,this life isn’t what it looks like. At the end of the day,there’s been people that have lost their lives over gang violence.”
Huncho was recently released from the Supreme Court where he is facing a string of charges including affray,assault as part of participation in a criminal group,and recklessly inflicting grievous bodily harm in company. Huncho intends to defend the charges when he faces trial.
While in prison,he witnessed the reach of his music. “I was jumping on the phone with[inmates’] kids. All these old people,they’d say ‘are you Ay Huncho? Can you please speak to my nephew? Can you please speak to my kids?’ So I would give them shout-outs.”
In June,he releasedUp The Score,a music video in which he stood with his crew behind enemy lines,beneath a Mount Druitt sign,and accused OneFour of being inauthentic. Authenticity is a familiar concern in hip-hop:proximity to the streets earns the artists,and their lyrics,degrees of credibility.
For Huncho,the music and the streets have closed in on one another. When pressed on the fine line between expressing violence and glorifying it,Huncho contends it’s only entertainment and everything depends on how the listener engages with his art.
“People can learn from it in that they can ask themselves,‘do I want to be part of this life?’ My life hasn’t been f---ing butterflies and rainbows. Walking out of your house,you feel like something could happen to you,” says Huncho.
“Cops knock on my door every day,they raid my house once a month so my mum and my sisters have to sleep with extra clothing in case they kick our door down. It’s definitely not a life you want to live.”
Chillinit believes the spotlight on the hip-hop scene was always going to be sparked by western Sydney.Supplied
Huncho isn’t the only rapper who has courted controversy. Chillinit from Hurstville in Sydney’s south has quickly become one of the genre’s frontrunners,accumulating more than 300,000 followers on Instagram.
He believes the spotlight on the hip-hop scene was always going to be sparked by western Sydney. “There’s finally been some light,” Chillinit says.
Chillinit’s “gutter rap” builds on the foundations of technical rappers including Brad Strut,Trem One and Hilltop Hoods. His style is an ode to the origins of hip-hop,at the intersection of graffiti,weed culture and freestyling.
The success of his music,and the community he’s created amongst his fanbase,has convinced Chillinit that hip-hop flourishes outside the mainstream. “It’s rap music. I don’t care what Joe Blow thinks because he goes to work and listens to INXS. Joe Blow is probably going to skip my article and go ‘who’s this stoner in the newspaper?’ Part of rap culture is that we don’t really care what Joe Blow thinks. We know who we are and what we stand for.”
Behind the scenes,managers such as Lowkee,who founded record label Biordi Music while running nightclubs,cafes and barbershops,have been bridging the gap between the talent on the streets,managing police pressure and working within the bureaucracy of the industry.
On the red carpet for the premiere ofNeverland,a fictional film about Australian street crime,Lowkee is dressed in a dapper suit and surrounded by family. He has produced and financed the film “for the area,by the area”. He smiles as he remembers where his journey began.
Western Sydney musician Youngn Lipz.Cole Bennetts
“Two or three years ago,I started really noticing the streets talking. People coming up to me from every angle,whether it’s at work,in the clubs,or DJs. When the streets are talking,you know there’s something special happening,” he says.
In 2019,he launched the label after he discovered a video of Cabramatta artist Youngn Lipz. For Lowkee,who was a rapper and producer in his youth,it was a passion project. Youngn Lipz was infusing lyrics about the streets with slow jams and soul. He has been consecutively nominated for the most performed artist at the APRA awards and was recently nominated for an ARIA award.
Lowkee believes the tide around local hip-hop’s mainstream opportunities may be turning after receiving offers from several major labels. “I love learning,especially from bigger players,which is why I did a distribution deal with Virgin Records;I knew I was gonna learn a lot from them,” he says. “I love being on the frontlines of big changes. I love helping people,bro,like,being able to see these artists turn a dream into a career,so they can actually make a living off something they love.”
Many emerging musicians in western Sydney feel they lack the structural support to succeed. It takes the investment of managers such as Lowkee,and outreach groups like Street University,to believe in the kids from the area and mould their dreams into a reality.
“When I sign them,the last thing I’m thinking about is they’re going to go to jail,” Lowkee says. “When I work with these artists,my focus is on their craft. But if I commit to someone from the area,it’s more than business. I wouldn’t be bailing people out if it wasn’t. I can’t turn my back on the culture and principles that made me the man I am today.”
Amid the whirlwind of activity,A.Girl feels western Sydney’s moment is overdue. “It’s next level. It’s not so much that it’s been sudden,but we just keep elevating. You really can’t ignore what’s happening with these artists,specifically out west,” she says.
“Our voices are too loud,our platforms are too big;people are latching onto us quicker than they do with American artists,and showing so much love to what’s going on. It’s obvious the mainstream world has to jump onto this. We’re in their faces now.”
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