Naalayak's Sahil Samuel on album, personal expression and love for live shows: ‘Hardest part is being honest’
Singer-songwriter Sahil Samuel talks about the honesty behind his latest album, and explains why live shows remain in the heart of their music.
For Chandigarh-born singer songwriter Sahil Samuel, music has never been about chasing a sound or fitting into a genre. It’s a release, a compass, and often the only thing that stays steady when everything else feels uncertain. “I’ve never thought of genre as identity… I just followed what felt honest,” says Sahil, insisting that his music is rooted in instinct and a very personal space.
That philosophy is what shaped Marammat, his latest project, which he says is probably the most vulnerable chapter in his discography. Born out of a period where “everything felt uncertain,” the 32-year-old says the album wasn’t planned as a departure or a reinvention, but, as a form of repair and an emotional stitching-together that eventually became music. “The hardest part wasn’t a line or a note, it was being honest,” he says.
Across tracks that blend Hindi-Urdu lyricism with rock-driven energy, Sahil continues to lean into the emotional terrain that first drew listeners to singles like Zakir, Baawra and Sunday. But he refuses to frame evolution as a break from legacy. “Authenticity and evolution aren’t opposites. The voice my listeners connected with came from honesty. That still guides me,” he says.
In an indie landscape shaped heavily by streaming, algorithmic discoverability and collaborations, Sahil still swears by the power of the stage. and believes that live shows remain the most under-valued space for indie artists today. “Sound can travel online, but soul can’t,” he says, describing the moment a crowd sings his lyrics back to him as the point where a song “stops belonging to me and starts belonging to everyone.”
That understanding of connection also shapes his songwriting today. If earlier records were born from heartbreak, Marammat arrived with a calmer clarity — not from chasing melodies but from waiting for what felt real. “My emotions found a rhythm before I did. I want to see how Marammat finds its place in people’s hearts. That’s the real reward,” he says.
