Author: Zsófia Rába
If my singing is a platform to help these issues being raised, then I will do it with love, with laughter and with fists.” – Tanya Tagaq; 2015
Tanya Tagaq is not just a musician; she is a storyteller, an activist, and a voice for her people. Through her unique Inuit throat singing, she expresses the anger, grief, and hope that comes with witnessing the destruction of her homeland. Her art carries the pain of environmental devastation while fiercely advocating for Indigenous rights. For United Rising, her work embodies the very essence of our mission to tell stories that capture the lived experiences of marginalized communities facing environmental harm. As part of our intersectionality campaign, Tagaq’s music provides a raw, emotional account of environmental degradation and Indigenous resistance.
Tanya Tagaq: A Revolutionary Voice
Tanya Tagaq, born in Cambridge Bay, Canada, is celebrated in contemporary Indigenous music. She is known for her modern take on Inuit throat singing. Tagaq uses her powerful voice to convey both cultural heritage and resistance to environmental destruction. She transforms traditional throat singing into a visceral experience, merging it with modern music to create a sound that is both ancient and revolutionary.
Environmental Destruction and Cultural Connection
Through these guttural, primal sounds, Tagaq brings the violence of environmental destruction to life.
Tagaq’s song Caribou highlights the deep-rooted cultural connection between her people and the animals that have sustained them for generations. Through her voice and lyrics, she mourns the loss of caribou herds and the resulting harm to Inuit life. The song’s haunting repetition of the word Caribou echoes like a lament, as if Tagaq is calling out to the animal in desperation. It’s the only song on her Polaris Prize-winning album, Animism in English, and Tagaq herself admits it lacks the character and desperation that she creates through her throat singing. However, as Tagaq told The Guardian, she chose to include it because “the idea of Caribou being sung by someone who eats and hunts caribou, is… just funny to me.” For Tagaq, it is a form of cultural reclamation, reflecting the traditions that have been eroded over centuries due to colonization, hunting laws, sexual assault, and racism.
In Caribou, she sings:
“I live cement, I hate this street
Give dirt to me, I bite lament
This human form where I was born
I now repent”
These lyrics reflect the consequences of environmental destruction — the gradual erasure of both animal life and the cultural practices tied to it. Tagaq channels the pain and reverence her people feel for the land and its animals, urging listeners to understand the profound connection between human and non-human life.
In tracks like Fracking, she directly confronts the environmental exploitation of her homeland. Her voice echoes the earth’s upheaval, twisting and contorting like the fractures created by fracking. Through these guttural, primal sounds, Tagaq brings the violence of environmental destruction to life.
Resistance Through Music
Tagaq frequently addresses environmental destruction in interviews, offering a personal perspective on the damage caused to her home in the Arctic. In one interview with The Guardian, she said, “Our only sustainable natural resource was taken from us”. Her public appearances are equally charged, where she often speaks about how environmental exploitation is an ongoing form of colonial violence against Indigenous communities.
In songs like Fracking and Retribution, Tagaq’s anger and frustration with environmental destruction come through in both her lyrics and sound. In Retribution, she sings:
“Our mother grows angry
Retribution will be swift
We squander her soil
and suck out her sweet black blood to burn it”
These lines show the metaphorical connection between the earth as a mother figure and the violence of exploitation. Her voice on this track is a mixture of harsh, guttural sounds and sorrowful moans, reflecting the pain and defiance of watching one’s homeland be ravaged.
Her performance style mirrors this emotion, as her music blends raw, jarring vocalizations with moments of silence, as if to reflect the uncertainty and instability caused by environmental destruction. Listening to her perform Retribution, the palpable frustration is visible, as if the land itself is crying out. The intensity of her voice, layered over minimalist, eerie instrumentation, evokes feelings of anger, helplessness, and deep sorrow for the land that’s being torn apart.
In under three minutes, Uja delivers a concentrated burst of fear and anxiety, capturing the emotional intensity of environmental degradation and Indigenous resistance.
Indigenous Sovereignty Through Music
Rather than presenting her music simply as a form of resistance, Tagaq uses it to assert Indigenous sovereignty. In songs like Uja, she explores the theme of Indigenous autonomy over land, life, and future generations. The song’s heavy beats and guttural sounds are like the voice of the earth itself, pulsating with anger and pain. It feels as though the land is crying out, as if every breath Tagaq takes is in unison with the breath of the environment she is fighting to protect.
Throughout the song, her vocalization evolves into gasping and growling, drawing the listener into her world. Then, abruptly, it stops. What remains is the steady rhythm of drums, offering a moment of simplicity — a stark contrast to the chaotic sounds just before. As the listener yearns for her voice to return, it does, but this time it’s calmer, gentler. In under three minutes, Uja delivers a concentrated burst of fear and anxiety, capturing the emotional intensity of environmental degradation and Indigenous resistance. This raw, visceral performance symbolizes the ongoing struggle to protect the land and the profound connection between the earth and the people.
Conclusion
Tanya Tagaq’s music is much more than art; it’s a cry for justice. Through her unique blend of traditional throat singing and modern sounds, she brings to life the emotional toll of environmental destruction and the ongoing fight for Indigenous sovereignty. For listeners, her songs provide an emotional connection to the struggles faced by her people — whether it’s through the mournful cries of Caribou, the anger in Retribution, or the defiance in Uja. Her work resonates deeply with environmental activists and Indigenous rights advocates because it conveys the visceral reality of what’s at stake — the land, the animals, the people, and future generations.
Through Tanya Tagaq, we are reminded that the battle to protect our planet is deeply personal, and it is through the voices of those most affected that we will find the strength to fight.