The Tuts

Today, The Tuts are dressed like TLC and Destiny’s Child in matching white/pink/purple camo, singing “No Scrubs” through the course of the short photoshoot as the sun emerges in perfect timing. “We love fashion, and we can make a conscious effort with our fashion and still be taken seriously for our music and our message,” lead singer and guitarist Nadia Javed says enthusiastically. It’s in this passion and dedication that they project their signature message on tri-tone activism and intersectional feminism, delivered with a healthy dose of empowering bubblegum pop/indie punk fusion.

They’re not just limited to that, however; not only do they play the more obvious punk and indie festivals, but are delving into various crowds. They’re popular within the ska crowd because of a tour they did with The Selector, and are playing more South Asian events in order to access a demographic that is, sadly, sorely lacking in straight up-and-down punk circles. “As a three-tone band, we also want our audience to look three-tone,” guitarist Nadia Javed says, “because we want to make a movement and send this message out of uniting the races and cultures together from all minority backgrounds.” By bridging the gap here, they’re attracting people – specifically women, and more specifically, women of color – to their shows who, not too long ago, were absent at these shows.

Their greatest goal is to empower people listening to their music, to pick up instruments and play themselves, to become a part of something bigger, to feel safer and more comfortable. “We want women in the crowd and people from minority backgrounds to feel like bad bitches,” Nadia says. “We wanted them to feel empowered. We want them to think, look,

there’s a brown girl onstage. I’ve never seen a girl like that before playing guitar. I want to do that. And just to feel confident and do shit they’d only see white dudes doing.” They’re well aware of the importance of representation in the arts, as well as in wider society, but while we’re seeing an influx of women musicians taking over places that were previously composed of entirely male lineups, it’s still almost entirely white lineups. It’s notable to comment on the fact that, amongst all the bands interviewed over the weekend, Nadia and drummer Beverly Ishmael were the only women of color I encountered and spoke to, and some of the very few involved in the festival.

It has to be something to do with pigeonholing that happens too often within the music industry. Within the genres that see more of a diversity in ethnicity – RnB, hip hop, grime – helps people of color feel less out of place. The Tuts have gone completely against this in an attempt to bring greater representation to more guitar-driven music genres, which is why they find it so important to use their platforms as musicians in the public eye to speak on these

topics, and encourages others to do the same. “What’s the deal? I could be watching anyone, I could be doing anything, but why should I be watching you?” Bev says. “What’s your message? Why should I care about you? You need to give something for people to care about, because the world is a

bit fucked up right now.”

It’s important to seek out this same representation and appropriate use of platforms within journalism and the media, because many reporters are still white and from upper-class upbringings, “so probably won’t have that under-

standing of what to represent and what needs a platform, because they haven’t felt it,” Nadia points out. Bev agrees: “Then that doesn’t get the word out about certain things that need to be highlighted.” Behind the scenes is something that’s harder to control, though. Subconscious prejudice and institutionalized racism and misogyny is still rampant. “People come up to us and start talking in an Ali G accent,” Bev says, “and that is just… what are you doing? Assuming that’s what we’re into.” Not only do The Tuts fight the battle of being women in music, but have to fight the battle of being women of color as well. “It’s not just about being girls,” Nadia says. “It’s about taking into account our race, our religion, our culture, our class, all that.” It’s at the highest levels of corporate greed in the music industry that these considerations (for the worse) are seen: by not being hired, by being fired, by being paid less or not at all.

That’s one of the many reasons The Tuts pride themselves on being completely DIY, managing all admin work for the band on their own, a decision taken, understandably, after the inspiration for one of their songs. “1982” was written

about a past manager who promise to get them connections, but did nothing up until they fired them after realizing he hadn’t known anyone of importance since ’82. Living in London as well, where, as bassist Harriet Doveton points out, “you think every gig is a corporate con,” finding the DIY scene there allowed them to take part in a system where promoters were actually paying people fairly. It does take a toll, however; as many in a DIY scene can understand, and as another proudly DIY band Dream Nails said recently, being a band that runs yourself means 95% admin and 5% actual music. The Tuts realized this with the release of their debut as well: “When we released Update Your Brain, we were so busy emailing people about magazine features and stuff, that we fucking forgot about being a band and writing new music,” Nadia explains. “We almost took the fun out of it for ourselves, and The Tuts is about friendship and having fun, and the three-tone message, and so we felt a little bit overwhelmed.”

While they are working on new music, though, they’re avoiding

the same course and focusing more on the music. “We didn’t want to fall back into bad habits in the anticipation of releasing new stuff,” Harriet says, “and if we do it, we have to go into it with a healthier mindset.” That’s why, where often they say what’s next for them is world domination, this time it’s “world domination, but have mental sanity as well,” as Bev says. “Instead of Update Your Brain,” Nadia confirms, “Take Care of Your Brain,” which might mean everything from taking time for themselves, to spending more time with their friends and family, or putting more of themselves into the music. Nadia wants to make more material, but also “making sure that it’s true and genuine, and comes from a good place, because, when you’re constantly on social media, you can start to compare yourself to other people, and you get jaded with what you’re seeing online. I don’t want to produce stuff of what is expected of me. I want to produce stuff that I want to do, and is true to me.”

For Nadia, on top of work with The Tuts, that means delving more into an acting career. Recently,

she was approached by ITV to be interviewed for a new series called Young, British & Muslim, which has aired now since the festival, and is another facet of encouraging other young people of color to pursue paths they might not have because of a lack of diversity within them. “They’re delving into breaking stereotypes of how Muslim people can actually have

different and cool careers without their religion interfering,” Nadia explains. Other than that, she’s been offered two roles – one of which, as it seems, is the story of a possessed bride, shot entirely on Super8 film – and is expanding her reach past music and into the other art forms as well.