Every so often, both subcultures and genres of music need a kick in the arse; a wake-up call that prevents them from stagnating. For an art form or movement to evolve and move forward, it often needs people with an axe to grind and a gigantic chip on their shoulder to take over. It needs artists who are willing to stand tall and ignore the dogmatic conventions and the trivialities that gatekeepers are all too enamoured with.
For Indian hip-hop, Shillong’s Reble, aka Daiaphi Lamare, could be the one woman revolution that the genre needs to kick things up a notch. Over the last few years, she’s become one of the most impressive talents in the country and has showcased unparalleled ability as a performer, a songwriter, and an MC. From festivals to showcases to cyphers, she’s showing the world that she’s ready to take over.
"I needed something for myself because I felt like I never fit in, and I didn’t have much. When I discovered music and when I discovered hip-hop, I felt like I finally had something.”Reble
Growing up in the hills, there weren’t a lot of homegrown hip-hop artists she could look to. Instead, she took cues from global trailblazers like Eminem and Andre 3000, amalgamating their influences with the wider musical talent and the creative courage of her own people. “People there are talented as fuck but there are no resources and no funds,” she says. “The Northeast could make insane music with support, but people sleep on it. Locals need to push their artists too, because the talent’s there, there’s just no backing. I moved out, and for me personally, it was the best decision ever. Industry isn’t changing there, so I just do my thing.”
While Reble represents her heritage and the place she comes from through her music, it’s not with a specific agenda of spreading cultural awareness. She wants to make it clear that it's just a natural expression of her own sense of self. “I just make music,” she explains. “I don’t owe anybody shit. I rep my place because it made me who I am — my environment and upbringing, and all that. I talk about it, but it’s not a must. I don’t need to educate people.”
Her chosen stage name has a resoundingly simple backstory, one that leans on the driving force of her artistry: rebellion. “I always hated being told what to do,” she reflects. “That’s it. I was just a kid, but rap was my outlet; hip-hop was my outlet; music in general was my outlet. I needed something for myself because I felt like I never fit in, and I didn’t have much. When I discovered music and when I discovered hip-hop, I felt like I finally had something.”
“I want a fanbase that actually gives a shit about my music. I don’t want anyone to just follow me because I’m a woman or because of some lifestyle they like. That’s a nightmare; people staring but not hearing."Reble
Every time she gets on a mic or steps onto a stage, Reble channels a rage and a discontent that so many homegrown artists struggle to capture authentically while speaking to the pleasures, pressures, trials, and tribulations of artistic existence. Whether it’s a powerful, angst-driven head-boppping barn-burner like ‘Terror’ or a laid-back ‘in my feelings’ emotional reverie like ‘Muse’, her flow and her lyricism invoke a righteous rage that lives in some part of all of us. Rebe’s music compels us to feel the full measure of her ambition and acts as a definitive projection of her anger, fear, hopes, dreams, and heritage.
This unflinching ambition is clear to see within her collaborations as well. Whether it’s with Kim The Beloved on ‘Set It Off’, Tre Ess on ‘Terror’ and ‘Opening Act’, or with filmmaker Gong Gangmei in her visuals and music videos, there’s a cohesion that allows each of their talents and strengths to augment and play off each other. For Reble, the key to this cohesion is finding a place where each person's artistic sensibilities can co-exist. “When it comes to creatives I work with, I just need to be on the same page,” she explains. “I want to tell a story we both like and both enjoy. I don’t want us too far from the goal. We need a middle ground; something we both fuck with.”
Where so many of her contemporaries get distracted by fluff and wrapped up in the machine that is modern music, Reble rarely deviates from her single-minded artistic vision, embracing all the chaos and grit that has shaped her life so far. Each song she puts out is a rallying cry; a fight not just to survive, but thrive in an industry that can chew you up and swallow you whole without batting an eyelid. She uses authenticity as a shield, a weapon, and a beacon for fans who are tired of gimmicks.
“I want a fanbase that actually gives a shit about my music,” she says. “I don’t want anyone to just follow me because I’m a woman or because of some lifestyle they like. That’s a nightmare; people staring but not hearing. Views, numbers, and aesthetics: they mean the same thing if the quality’s good. Good quality brings decent views, decent numbers, and some fame. I don’t need to be the biggest, I want just enough.”
"I like music in general, and I never thought of making music as just rapping in a box.”Reble
Still only 23, she speaks about her craft like a seasoned veteran and is pleasantly unbothered by the scale of her achievements so far or the weight of expectation. For Reble, the ‘boxes’ that confine so many artists are the enemy. Her diverse influences, which include alternative artists like the Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Weezer, have allowed her to amalgamate a sound and an energy that you so rarely see within homegrown hip-hop. Hip-hop is very much a part of its DNA, but there are also traces of punk, hardcore, alternative, and R'n'B present in practically every song she puts out, whether it’s in the vocals or the overall production.
“I grew up listening to a lot of things that weren’t hip-hop, and I guess that influenced me to not make hip-hop the conventional way,” she says. "I like music in general, and I never thought of making music as just rapping in a box.”
This gives her music a crossover appeal that can bring together seemingly disparate demographics — whether it’s Delhi hip-hop bros or Bengaluru metalheads. I saw Reble for the first time at the Homegrown Festival and remember thinking that it was probably the most punk-rock hip-hop set I’ve seen in a very long time.
Across the length of the performance, her act was buoyed by a passionate, intensely focused nonchalance and a dynamic flair that effortlessly ebbed and flowed across each song in her set. Her syncopated, defiant delivery was never muddled, and every line was defiant, assured and resonant. The most punk thing about it for me? She never took herself too seriously and made sure that her music and artistry took centre stage above all else. It was an act of rebellion against a vapid self-importance that’s becoming normalised across homegrown music; a middle finger to the status quo.
What allows Reble to cut through the noise isn’t just the fact that she’s a prodigious talent. There’s a ton of talent in the country, and that often isn’t quite enough to break through. It’s also the fact that she isn’t chasing success for the sake of success: she’s doing it on her terms and in a way that prioritises creative substance over filler. She’s assembled a team that realises the value of creating an actual artistic legacy and is committed to sticking to the blueprint of creative rebellion that first put her on this path.
She’s not so much reinventing the wheel as she is breaking and reshaping it. Her artistry is be a beacon for all Indian artists on the periphery, across hip-hop and beyond. Reble's rise is proof that it's entirely possible to be defiant and bullish; to unapologetically wear your identity on your sleeve, warts and all, and find not just acceptance but celebration.
You can follow Reble here.
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