Meet Alemeda, a daring new voice of Gen Z rock

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As a film buff, I always love a good origin story, and I recently learned about a really talented young musician in L.A. Apparently, her whole career kicked off when she made the bold decision to run away from home. It’s amazing how a single moment can change everything, isn’t it?

Or did her mom kick her out?

“It’s hard to explain,” Alemeda says.

Rahema Alameda, a singer who grew up in a strict Islamic home in Phoenix and later adjusted the spelling of her stage name to make it easier to find online, often clashed with her mother. Their disagreements centered around school, religious beliefs, and Rahema’s love of pop music, which her mother largely prohibited when she was a child.

Alemeda remembers that when she was 17, she and her mother had a major argument – a culmination of issues that had been brewing for a while. She decided to move out, and her mother reacted in a strange way: she both called the police on Alemeda and then moved to Africa. Alemeda finds the situation funny now.

“I swore on the Quran that I was never coming back.”

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Alemeda and her family eventually began to mend their relationship. She recently returned to Los Angeles after visiting them in Arizona. Now, seven years after leaving home, she looks back on her difficult teenage years with a sense of perspective.

Alemeda, now 25, explains that she left home because of her mother’s treatment of her. She adds that leaving was ultimately a good thing, as it led to her being signed – presumably to a record label or agency.

The artist recently signed with Top Dawg Entertainment (TDE), the label behind stars like SZA, Doechii, and Kendrick Lamar. Last week, TDE and Warner Records released a fantastic new seven-song EP called “But What the Hell Do I Know” by Alemeda, showcasing a fresh and exciting voice in today’s pop music scene.

The album explores complex emotions through its music. “Losing Myself” uses dreamy guitars to depict the feeling of being consumed by a harmful relationship, with the lyrics admitting vulnerability – “I’m just a heart for your arrow.” “Happy With You” reflects on a tendency to undermine one’s own happiness. The song “Beat a B!tch Up” features Alemeda and Doechii exchanging powerful promises of loyalty in a high-energy chorus reminiscent of a Warped Tour performance. Finally, “1-800-FK-YOU” is a raw, garage-rock breakup song influenced by the style of The Strokes.

The EP, “But What the Hell Do I Know,” is full of catchy, clever songs. However, it ends on a deeply emotional note with the ballad “I’m Over It,” which explores the pain of watching someone struggle with addiction. In the song, Alemeda sings with raw feeling about difficult times, recalling moments like, “Kicked back, laughing in a Camry / Talking ’bout how we hate our families,” and the heartbreaking line, “I held your hair, I flushed your drugs / You took the love, I took the hit.”

Alemeda’s new song is a powerful emotional experience, comparable to the detailed songwriting of artists like Taylor Swift and Olivia Rodrigo. She describes herself as initially not taking music very seriously, sharing this at the Top Dawg Entertainment headquarters in Studio City. After a six-hour drive from Phoenix, she’s relaxing with an espresso, dressed in low-rise jeans and a paisley top.

She explains she was simply trying to get away from her family home. However, she believes that writing about her experiences has been a significant part of her healing process.

Music

Twenty years after her first, groundbreaking album came out, the singer – who also became a reality TV star – is getting ready to perform a series of shows at the Venetian hotel in Las Vegas.

While TDE is known for hip-hop and R&B, Alemeda’s music sounds more like pop-punk artists such as Paramore, Avril Lavigne, and Ashlee Simpson. Her song “Stupid Little Bitch,” which explores her complicated relationship with her mother, combines soft vocals with raw acoustic guitar. Meanwhile, “Chameleon,” featuring Rachel Chinouriri, features powerful drums and a distorted guitar solo.

“I love how grungy she is,” says Chinouriri, who toured with Alemeda earlier this year.

More and more women of color are creating alternative rock music, including these two artists. They’re part of a wave, alongside musicians like Beabadoobee (whom one of the artists particularly admires), that’s been made possible by how streaming and social media have broken down traditional rules about genres and who can create them.

Alemeda feels like there’s an invisible barrier preventing certain artists from reaching their full potential, and isn’t sure if this is a problem within the music industry or something broader. Chinouriri relates, explaining that when she talks to white artists about their challenges, she realizes she’s still facing more fundamental hurdles – she’s still working on overcoming the initial obstacles in her career.

I recently learned that Alemeda actually grew up with a really interesting background! She was born in Chicago, but her mom is from Ethiopia and they lived there for a while when she was little. Her dad’s from Sudan, too. Around fifth grade, her family moved to Phoenix, and she’s said it felt like a total culture shock. It’s funny, because growing up, her exposure to American music was pretty limited – mostly just what she caught on the Disney Channel or through her old-school clock radio!

She explains that she wasn’t aware of the ethnicity of the people whose voices she was hearing. The only exception was Beyoncé, whom she knew was Black.

Looking back at high school, I can really relate to what Alemeda says about feeling invisible. She describes herself as a ‘ghost,’ and it’s so powerful. She explained that nobody really knew what her voice even sounded like! She used to wear a hijab, and she felt like that, especially being one of the only Muslim students, made people hesitant to approach her – they’d only talk to her if they absolutely had to. It just sounds like she really felt isolated, and I can understand that feeling.

She finished high school ahead of schedule, experiencing a difficult family situation with her mother. Now, she understands her mother’s choices as a parent, explaining, “She was a refugee who married very young, around 12, and had a child when she was only 13 or 14.” But when she was a teenager working multiple jobs, Alemeda felt her life was incredibly hard. This led her to begin writing songs, using music she found on YouTube as a starting point.

Moosa Tiffith, a co-president at TDE, discovered one of her songs while browsing Instagram late at night. He immediately recognized her talent. They started talking through direct messages, and Alemeda, who was then working a maintenance job at American Airlines, flew out to perform for him.

She remembers telling him, ‘You don’t even need to pay for my flight!’ She explains that he didn’t realize she could fly for free through her work, and she was pretending to be very enthusiastic to convince him.

Music

While touring with her new album, the pop star, originally from New Zealand, is sharing her commitment to complete honesty and openness.

In 2020, Alemeda relocated to Los Angeles and dedicated herself to music. She refined her style by writing many songs and taking vocal lessons with Willie Norwood, Brandy’s father. The following year, her song “Gonna Bleach My Eyebrows” became popular on TikTok, and she followed that up with other trending songs like “Post Nut Clarity” and “First Love Song.”

Alemeda’s music leans towards rock, so she’s been working with new songwriters and producers outside of TDE’s usual team. She explains that at the label, artists typically start with a pre-made list of beats. But for her, each recording session is more spontaneous and collaborative – she describes it like a band practicing in a garage, with a playful, energetic vibe.

The podcast “But What the Hell Do I Know” features contributions from several collaborators, including producers Stint and Tyler Cole, and songwriter Salem Ilese, who first gained popularity with her TikTok song “Mad at Disney.”

Alemeda explains that people often call her a rapper simply because she’s Black, which she finds frustrating. “I don’t actually rap!” she says with a laugh. “It feels disrespectful to real rappers when someone calls me one.” She admits it’s embarrassing when it happens, saying, “It makes me cringe every time.”

According to Alemeda and Chinouriri, SZA’s popular albums, like “SOS” and “Lana,” which blend different genres, have paved the way for artists like themselves. Alemeda also notes that Doechii brings a fresh and unique perspective as a Black woman artist.

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As someone who spends way too much time online, I’m picking up a real sense of fatigue – people are just bored of seeing the same old faces and formats. That’s what I’m gathering, anyway. And I think that’s why it’s so exciting to see artists pushing boundaries and offering something fresh. I’ll be checking it out firsthand this weekend at Camp Flog Gnaw in L.A., which Tyler, the Creator is putting on, and I’m hoping to see a lot of that innovation on display.

Where would Alemeda like to see herself a year or two from now?

She admitted she’s been feeling down lately, which might explain why she sounds a bit pessimistic, but overall she feels like she’s improving. She also mentioned she’s been actively self-promoting on TikTok.

She explained that once she started playing, she enjoyed giving the system lots of different content – memes, jokes, dances, anything – just to get noticed.

She laughs, saying she figured being a little silly was acceptable at 20 years old. However, she never imagined she’d still be making short, playful videos online. While she’s not embarrassed by it, she jokes that she feels too old to keep it up.

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2025-11-13 22:34