Near the end of February 2020, my view on music forever changed. COLORS Studios uploaded Bittersweet by Lianne La Havas — a now over 13-million-times-watched edition of this intimate show where I loved discovering new artists. A woman who, in the last 6+ years, has risen to become one of my most listened-to artists of all time, and whom I was extremely excited to go back through all of her interviews, concerts and intimate performances for this article.
Born in London in 1989 to a Jamaican mother and a Greek father, music at home never stayed in one lane. Reggae, rock, gospel, Mediterranean melodies and classical fragments played everywhere. The result? A child who didn’t inherit a simple and clean identity, but formed one from little bits and pieces that didn’t always fit neatly together. She’s spoken before about feeling “in between” for a large portion of her youth. Too Jamaican for some, too Greek for others. Never quite English enough for the rest. Hard. But this in-betweenness became the quiet engine of her writing.
Lianne began writing songs as a teenager; mostly she just wrote for herself. Usually with a guitar that felt more like a friend and confidant than an instrument. By the time she was playing in small rooms in London, the songs already carried that dual inheritance: the rhythmic sounds out of Kingston and the emotional directness of something more European. A demo song found its way to Prince, who became a very unexpected and unusually quiet champion. He invited Lianne to shows, kept her close and offered musical and personal validation that did not have to be loud. A massive endorsement that was never seen or used as a marketing move — something that simply felt like recognition from someone who understood the value of a voice that did not need to shout to be heard.
In 2012 Lianne’s debut album Is Your Love Big Enough? dropped without the usual industry machinery backing it. The project feels handmade and personal. Songs sound carefully curated and reveal an artist who is emotionally involved and doesn’t necessarily need a spectacle. The record earned Lianne a Mercury Prize nomination and with that a growing reputation among both the public and musicians who valued song craft over public image.
Three years later came Blood. The record was more expansive: electric textures, stronger rhythmic drive, and many themes drawn from a trip to Jamaica with her mother and a deep dive into her Greek heritage. Songs like Unstoppable and What You Don’t Do became the staples of the record. The album peaked at number two in the UK and got her a Grammy nomination for Best Urban Contemporary Album. Lianne started touring heavily, landing support slots for acts like Coldplay and Leon Bridges.
Then the silence came. Between the time Blood came out in 2015 and her self-titled album in the summer of 2020, Lianne lost her great-grandmother and grandmother, ended a long relationship and also had to process the loss of Prince. The album moves through natural imagery, growth, separation, decay and return. Production came from Matt Hales, Mura Masa, Nick Hakim and herself. The album also contained a striking cover of “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi” by Radiohead from the album In Rainbows, an album she has said has always been one of her favorites.
The album won the Ivor Novello Award for Best Album and further solidified her reputation for work that felt carefully crafted and deeply personal.
Completely unrelated but weirdly related: in the animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender, there is a scene where a sword master tells one of the main characters that the sword shouldn’t be a weapon that is wielded, but an extension of the body. Every time I watch this series, this scene weirdly makes me think of Lianne La Havas, in the sense that when you see her live, her guitar almost feels like an extension of her body. Her voice does the moving. Audiences tend to lean in and listen rather than cheer immediately. Every performance asks for attention rather than demanding it — a quality that has only become rarer over the years.
After another extended break she returned with the single Disarray in October 2025: a single stripped back to guitar and voice and recorded live. It shifted to a more intimate sound. Self-described as a secret shared with the listener, a small window into a recent period of personal upheaval. The song suggests the start of a new chapter rather than a continuation of the previous one.
Across three studio albums and over a decade of public work, Lianne La Havas has kept the same line: a refusal to let industry timelines or external expectations dictate the pace or shape of her music. The voice? Constant, clear, flexible and capable of carrying both fragility and force. The guitar? Always central and a perfect extension of her body. And the writing keeps returning to questions of love, self, heritage and the slow work of putting your life together after it has been taken apart.
The next full project has not yet been announced, but the pattern has been clear. Lianne moves when the work is ready. Not before.
As a closing ‘statement’ or word, I wanted to finish with a comment I remember seeing under one of her performances:
“Lianne’s voice sounds like the smile someone has after receiving an unexpected compliment.”
Which I thought was a perfect visualization.
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