Niia is an artist you need both on sunny Sunday mornings and in the depths of the night when your thoughts make you restless. She is an artist who combines a classical, polished touch with contemporary sounds. Born in Boston, Niia has been surrounded by music and jazz her whole life, from her mother’s piano mastery to her grandmother’s opera singing. Her technical jazz vocals paired with reflections on life come together on her most recent album, V, released in 2025. UCLA Radio got to chat over email with Niia to get more insights into her process, relationship to jazz, and her latest album.
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How have you grown within or against the typically strict genre of jazz throughout your career?
There are real fundamentals in jazz, such as technique, history, phrasing, discipline… that I think you have to grow into. I took that seriously. But after you learn the language, you get to decide how you want to speak it.
For me, growth has meant defining my own relationship to jazz, rather than trying to fit inside a rigid idea of it. There isn’t one correct way to honor tradition. You can be deeply informed by it while still bending it. Authenticity matters more than purity.
How does the jazz space fulfill you and your writing?
Jazz fulfills me because of its emotional directness. The standards I grew up studying were harmonically sophisticated, but the lyrics were brutally honest. That combination shaped me.
In 2026, I feel free to write in a more confessional way, but ironically, that mirrors some of the older songs I love most. Jazz has always made space for vulnerability.
How do you maintain the motivation to keep creating?
Honestly, I don’t force it. My creativity comes in waves. I’ve learned to trust that.
Traveling, experiencing new cultures, falling in love, making mistakes — those things refill the well. When inspiration returns, I have something real to pull from. Creating isn’t just about discipline for me. It’s about living fully enough to have something worth saying.
As an artist, what attracts you to the world of musicians and filmmakers, and why do you surround yourself in artistic spaces?
I grew up in a family of musicians, so being around artists has always felt natural. Film and music resonate most with me because they’re both immersive emotional languages.
I’m a visual learner, but sound is my favorite medium. I’m drawn to how filmmakers and musicians translate feeling into texture, pacing, and silence. A devastating score can undo me.
Artistic spaces can be intimidating, but they’re also deeply energizing. When you’re surrounded by people chasing expression at a high level, it pushes you to go further.
How do you find your voice and confidence as an artist?
You find it by continuing. By doing the work over and over.
Someone once told me to get drunk and record yourself because that’s your “real” voice. I don’t know if that’s entirely true — but there’s something about stripping away self-consciousness. Over time, though, you realize you’re in control. You decide what to keep, what to refine, what to outgrow.
Confidence comes from repetition and bravery. From accepting that good and bad will both happen and trusting that you’ll adapt. I feel like my voice is still arriving. And I like that.
How did growing up in Boston influence your style?
Boston shaped me profoundly. The jazz scene there is serious, and I studied with incredible vocalists. I competed in jazz bands as a kid, and I thought I was in the Olympics. I was way too serious, but it was fun to be so hardcore.
That foundation gave me discipline and respect for the craft. It also gave me community. I learned early how to collaborate, how to listen, and how to hold my own in a room full of strong musicians.
What are your reflections on the contemporary jazz space and what it means to be a part of it?
It feels so alive.
People aren’t afraid to take risks right now. Genres are mutating in interesting ways — electronic textures, R&B phrasing, classical influence, ambient, experimental. It feels less policed and more exploratory.
Being part of contemporary jazz means honoring lineage while pushing forward. It’s an exciting moment to contribute.
How does it feel to release a project that thematically reflects self-understanding and actively choosing yourself?
It feels grounding.
I’m not even sure it was a fully conscious decision while I was making it, which makes it land even harder now. Looking back, I can see that I was choosing myself emotionally, creatively, and personally. There’s something powerful about realizing that after the fact.
In your songwriting process, how do you curate cohesiveness regarding the repetition of classic jazz motifs, or is that not something you think about?
It’s not something I calculate in a technical way.
But I did have an intention. I wanted the album to feel familiar and forward at the same time. Something that nods to the past but sounds like the future.
The cohesiveness comes more from emotional through-lines than strict motif repetition. The harmonic language connects it. The perspective connects it.
If someone listens to V from start to finish, what do you hope they learn about themselves or understand about you that they didn’t before?
I hope they experience it as active listening. There are layers, lyrical clues, and harmonic shifts that reveal themselves over time.
More than anything, I hope they feel less alone. That they recognize that darkness can coexist with humor, beauty with bruise. Life can be hysterical and devastating in back-to-back moments. It’s a lot! But so worth it.
And I hope they understand that this record is me at my most intentional and most honest. It’s a body of work I’m deeply proud of.
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Listen to Niia and her latest work here!
