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Although born into a Muslim family, Jakarta-born reggae star Ras Muhamad embraces a broader concept of spirituality.

“We don’t believe in segmentation,” said Ras, whose real name is Muhamad Egar. “We all have the same God, so we don’t need to differentiate between religions.”

He is also a big believer in urging his listeners to bring about change.

In “Crisis,” a song from “Next Chapter,” Ras’s sophomore album, he sings: “The youth can’t get no food to eat, the youth can’t get no place to sleep. Do you really care?”

Dressed in a green cotton shirt and matching knit cap covering his dreadlocks, Ras Muhamad exuded a zen-like calm during his interview at the Taman Ismail Marzuki arts complex in Central Jakarta last week.

“There’s a responsibility in music, art and culture to help and educate the poor,” said Ras, who was born in 1982.

His album, “Next Chapter,” is built on the concepts of equal rights and justice.

Out of the 17 songs on the album released by independent label Jah Star Management in August, there’s only one romantic tune. The rest is heavier fare.

“Make Way” tells the youth not to rely heavily on deceitful leaders. “The System” depicts dirty politics, which, as the lyrics suggest, is a system that “destroys,” “kills” and “oppresses.”

“I’m not a political expert and I don’t do politics,” said the bearded singer.

“But as a musician, we have to be aware about what’s going on in the world of politics.”

Ras collaborated with musicians from Senegal, Kenya and Norway on the album, which is influenced by the genre’s top acts: Peter Tosh and Bob Marley.

His professional debut album, “Reggae Ambassador, ” released in 2007, was more influenced by fast-paced dancehall reggae, which is set apart by its digital instrumentation, upbeat tempo and aggressive vocals, according to Ras.

“The tempo [of ‘Next Chapter’] is much slower, but the vocals are much more aggressive, condensed and faster,” Ras said.

In 2008, Rolling Stone magazine Indonesia rated Ras as Best New Reggae Artist. His song, “Musik Reggae Ini” (This Reggae Music), was nominated for an AMI Award — the country’s equivalent of the Grammys — the same year.

“I’m grateful that people are recognizing my struggle,” Ras said.

“But what I want is for the struggle to become a concrete thing. Not something temporary, but a movement that lasts forever.”

Ras’s journey to recognition as an Indonesian reggae artist in fact began in the United States in the early ’90s, after his mother, a diplomat, was assigned to work in New York.

Ras remembers being introduced to the music of the dancehall reggae singer, Buju Banton, when he heard it blasting from the stereo speakers of his older cousin’s tape deck. His cousin had migrated to the United States before he did.

Ras developed an immediate liking for the music. But the thick, unfamiliar Jamaican accent — which today he adopts when he sings — initially made it difficult for him to understand the lyrics.

He said it wasn’t until he started his arts degree at the Borough of Manhattan Community College that he really got to know reggae culture through his friendship with African and Caribbean students.

He had also started writing and singing reggae songs at college and, during his senior year, Ras’s friends encouraged him to make a recording.

The result was a 10-song demo album, titled “Declarations of Truths,” which was distributed independently throughout New York’s underground community.

In those years, Ras said he went to a lot of “sound system” parties in lofts and abandoned warehouses, where DJs would play back-to-back reggae from 9 p.m. until six in the morning.

Ras also hung out at restaurants that were popular with the reggae crowd, thriving on the immediacy of reggae’s social and religious commentary.

“In New York, I’m usually the listener,” he said. “Hanging out with the community there really expands your knowledge.”

When he returned home to Jakarta four years ago after 12 years in the US, he found the local reggae community disappointing.

He frequented reggae joints in Menteng, Central Jakarta, and Rawamangun, East Jakarta, hoping they’d become places where he could share his thoughts, but found that many — but not all — of the people there were “unenthusiastic about having meaningful conversations.”

Ras views this as an unfortunate condition, especially given the potential for important discussions on the social injustices and other problems in Jakarta.

“Jakarta is a metropolis, but there’s still a huge social gap here,” he said.

Instead of using reggae as a harbinger of change, Ras said, a lot of the genre’s followers in Jakarta were inadvertently perpetuating the stigma surrounding the music.

“They only know Bob Marley,” Ras said.

“They hang out on the streets with no aim, drinking and smoking weed.

“They keep saying peace, peace and [more] peace. But there’s no struggle.”