In Conversation: Niia’s Tender Return to Jazz — A Portrait of Self and Artistry

When I see and hear Niia, I can’t help but feel that this is what it means to accept one’s fate — quietly, fully. And her fate seems to be music. To sing, to express, to make the world a little more beautiful by offering her inner landscape to the outside. With intention, with vulnerability. And perhaps, in doing so, she also pays a certain price — the price of being someone whose art and personhood have long since blurred into one another. Of being unable, at times, to draw clear lines between life and creation. Of burning brightly, but sometimes burning out.

How lucky we are to hear something so honest, — so unfiltered, so emotionally exact. That doesn’t entertain from a distance, but instead draws us in — into closeness, into complexity. I invite you to take a closer look at this artist. And now, she’s back with her new album V.

“I wanted V to feel like a conversation with myself — some parts dark, some funny, all of it true,” Niia tells us during our talk. And it’s exactly this honesty — sharp and multi-faceted — that makes her work so captivating. She’s no stranger to reinvention, but this new album marks a return to something foundational. “It’s my first letter to jazz in a while,” she says of her haunting cover of Angel Eyes, which closes the record.

Born with a voice that’s both technically masterful and emotionally raw, Niia has spent years working through what it means to feel deeply while sharing that feeling with the world. From her early jazz training to collaborations with left-of-center producers, she has never taken the predictable path — and V is no exception.

“There wasn’t really a concept,” she admits. “No title stood out. I just wanted the work to speak for itself.” And that makes perfect sense — to avoid naming the unnameable, to leave space for the listener to decide what it is. What emerged is a record that weaves jazz tradition with electronic textures, humor with melancholy, perfection with disruption. The opener Fucking Happy sets the tone: bold, theatrical, and wholly self-aware. “I wanted to start the album by saying: don’t fuck with me.”

In this interview, we speak with Niia about trusting her instincts, living with contradiction, learning to self-regulate — and what it means to still choose vulnerability, again and again, in sound and in spirit.

Photography by Szilveszter Mako

Niia, welcome to this interview! You’ve already given so many interviews in your life — do you still look forward to them, or does it feel more like part of the job by now?

I feel grateful that anyone still wants to talk to me about music. But sometimes, the questions can get a little repetitive — things you could easily find online. So, it’s always nice when someone brings something fresh to the table!

Your music is impossible not to love. It pulls people in like a magnet — there’s something truly mesmerizing about it. Your voice, the emotional depth, the honesty… it’s breathtaking. Do you remember the first time someone told you your voice had deeply moved them?

Thank you. (smiles) I don’t remember that exact moment clearly. But I do remember the first time someone told me I had a responsibility with my voice. It happened during a voice lesson with Rebecca Paris in her basement. She smoked cigarettes and would throw her water bottle at me when she didn’t believe me. I was young, and she made it vital for me to understand how important it was to channel emotion through my voice.
She told me, “You already have the vessel — you don’t sound 14. But you haven’t experienced some of these feelings yet. You’re going to have to figure out how to make me believe your husband cheated on you, make me believe you’re tired, heartbroken, in love.”
It was one of the most valuable lessons — maybe the golden lesson. I think that’s why I can move people with my voice. Over time, I learned to channel my own emotions as I went through things. It’s worth noting that I had a lot of empty water bottles thrown at me until she finally believed I was singing with real emotion.

Your new album is called V — is that because it’s your fifth studio album? Or is it true that you didn’t really want to give the album a title, and preferred to let the work speak for itself?

It’s a bit of both, I’d say. This album didn’t have a concept, and no title really stood out. I also just think “V,” the Roman numeral, is beautiful. I always want the work to speak for itself — and it should.

“Fear is debilitating — but feeling happy and confident, even when it’s unfamiliar, feels much better.”

You open the record with “Fucking Happy,” a track that’s raw, theatrical, and full of dark humor. You wrote it over several years — why did you choose that song to start the album?

I wanted to start the album by saying don’t fuck with me.

You’ve said your favorite song on the album changes depending on your mood. So, which one is it today? (smiles)

Right now, I’d say “Again with Feeling.” And sometimes, “The Awful Truth.”

I think right now, my favorite might be “Throw My Head Out the Window” — it truly has everything in it. What’s the story behind that one?

Living in L.A., everyone drives. I’d see dogs with their heads out the window and always wondered why they did that. Was it escapism? Pure joy? A little moment for themselves? Just being a good boy?

Sometimes, when someone else is driving, I’ll rest my head on the window and stick it out just enough to feel the wind whipping in my ears. In that moment, my mind goes quiet. I’m fully present — the sun on my face, the wind, the sound — I feel safe and beautiful.
I wanted to write about that feeling, one I think everyone can identify with in some way. Even if you’ve never literally thrown your head out the window, when you do, you’d be like, “Ohhh, this is what she’s talking about.”

And you close V with “Angel Eyes” — such a tender and traditional moment. Is that track your love letter to jazz?

It’s definitely one of my top three favorite jazz standards. I love the history behind it and everyone who’s sung it. I’m obsessed that Frank Sinatra’s last line he ever sang was, “Excuse me while I disappear.” So dramatic — it haunts me.
It makes me wonder how long I’ll keep singing, and if jazz standards will be what I die singing someday. Performing this song feels almost religious — that sounds intense, but it’s true. It’s such a perfect, haunting melody. Once you start it, it just pulls you into its spell until the very last note. It’s my first letter to jazz in a while.

“I tattooed the Italian word forza on my hand — to remind myself to move forward in life with strength.”

When I watched the video for “Angel Eyes,” I was genuinely impressed — it felt so cinematic and intimate. It captured the mood of the song perfectly. What was the inspiration behind the visuals, and how did the concept come to life?

I just wanted to sing the song and lose myself in it, no matter what was happening around me. Jazz bars usually have a lot going on — conversations, movement, distractions — so I wanted it to feel real but also a bit strange.
The song itself is about feeling isolated and disconnected, and I wanted that subtle sense of loneliness to come through visually.

Your Instagram is also beautiful — it feels creative, curated, and very you. Are you a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to your feed, or is it more of a playful space where you can experiment freely?

I definitely have a creative point of view that I work from — whether it’s photoshoots, fashion, or music. The fact that it all comes across as cohesive is more a testament to having a single viewpoint than to perfectionism.
That said, I am a perfectionist. But I’m lucky to collaborate with incredible creatives who constantly challenge me and keep things exciting.

I read that your artist soul often gets tangled up with real life — and that you sometimes work against that through empowerment and identity workshops. Do you think it’s even possible to separate the two?

I’m trying to figure out that difference every day. Sometimes, I think it’s the pinnacle of artistic achievement — and also the cost of it — to pour your whole being into your art. “Live for art.”
Making beauty out of suffering is something many artists and sensitive people relate to. But I also want to have a calm, happy life. For me, it’s become vital to find that balance — to know that I can be Niia, and also Niia the artist — and that both can be authentic, even if they’re a little different.

“I wanted V to feel like a conversation with myself — some parts dark, some funny, all of it true.”

In one interview, you said: “We are all growing through our lessons, and can take care of ourselves. I think that’s the one thing I’ve really worked on — that I can reparent, self-soothe and self-regulate.” I loved that so much. Could you share a gentle tip on how to better regulate emotions?

I can get wrapped up in sadness and my emotions sometimes — even to the point of hiding in it or glorifying it. I realized I don’t need to keep myself chained outside in the rain just because it feels familiar. I can be happy. I can lean into gratitude and self-love.
I’ve done a lot of work to understand how I’ve been showing up as my wounded or adaptive child instead of as a functioning adult, and learning why has helped me so much.
So my gentle tip would be: you can show up for yourself. I didn’t believe I could take care of myself — but I’ve learned I’m the best person for the job.
Fear is debilitating, but feeling happy and confident as unfamiliar at times.. It feels much better. Knowing I can only control the present moment — and that nothing before or after really matters — has helped me let go of control and trust that I’ll be okay no matter what happens.
I also tattooed the Italian word forza on my hand — I look at it to remind myself to move forward in life with strength. ;)

What would you say is the most important thing in life — for you, right now?

Showing up as a functioning adult… and trying to get to bed at a reasonable time.

And finally — what’s one question you wish we had asked you?

Are the rumors true that you’re a witch?