Right now, the world feels closer to the rapture more than ever.
Wars, layoffs, rising prices, multiple crisis trending at once. The days are heavy.
The timeless antidote for most young people? Go out and dance.
Call it survival instinct. Call it delusion. Call it a form of protest. But in the midst of the world’s never-ending chaos, young people are still chasing the sounds that make the days feel easier.
And right now, pop and dance music sit at the center of it.
There’s always been a connection between political chaos and the club. ‘70s Disco was born from crisis and queer liberation—a need for somewhere to exist. When the economy crashed in 2008, pop went full EDM. Referred to now as “recession pop,” the genre became an experience of escapism: a wave of grandiose, high-energy anthems now nostalgic for Gen Z.
The formula is simple: heavy times = heavy bass.
Yet, the faces that define those eras, Gaga, Kesha, Katy Perry, only tell part of the story.
The euphoric party sounds of the late 2000s, were built on the fingerprints of Black artists like Akon, Kelly Rowland, Azealia Banks, Flo Rida, and will.i.am.
Timbaland’s futuristic production on “The Way I Are” set the blueprint for the electro-pop wave that followed. Akon’s Auto-Tune shimmer and Kelly Rowland’s “Commander” carved out space for Black futurism, long before it was a buzzword (just to name a few examples).
Yet, when we talk about that era (especially in the context of black artists), we tend to flatten it.
Reduce it to only “party music,” as if pleasure isn’t political.
The success of pop stardom has always been tethered to palatability. Bound by an unspoken social contract to make records that don’t disrupt, but are catchy enough to be replayed on the radio or slipped into a DJ set without dipping the high of a room.
But today, the state of the world is too volatile for that to be the only prerequisite.
It begs the question: what are the makings of a modern pop star?
If you ask me, it requires music that says something.
That’s where BAYLI comes in, an artist at the center of a new wave of Black femme pop stars reclaiming the genre as their own.
INTRODUCING: BAYLI
A Brooklyn-bred artist reviving that early-2010s euphoria: trancey synths, cheeky lyrics, pulsing bass lines. The kind of hooks that stay in your head all day. Except she filters it through a distinctly Black, queer, femme lens.
The first lyrics I heard from her:
“Get under my skin, get under my clothes, all of that. I give her what she needs, give her what she wants, all of that….We get physical, we’re shootin’ it on digital…directing like she Coppola”.
Paired with an electro-pop beat, it’s impossible not to dance (or at least try).
Key songs from her discography, like “FEM-nomics” and “Sushi for Breakfast,” feel playful on the surface, but they are radical declarations of freedom and queerness cleverly disguised as pop bops.
Years into the music game, she’s not a trend chaser, but an artist who is in dialogue with the times. What began as introspective, R&B-leaning music, has evolved into club tracks that feel urgently necessary for today.
The Ruins @ Knockdown
Like the universe’s timing does, I discovered her music just as she had a show at Knockdown Center. An iconic NYC venue, known for as a haven for alternative scenes. It was the last Ruins show of the season: Cortisa Star, Alice Longyu Gao, BAYLI, Miss Madeline, and Cute Door.
All artists who are not only genre-bending but visceral, declarative, sexual, and unapologetic in their own right.
Making my way through the warehouse maze in Queens, I realized any questions I had about what a “modern pop-star” looked like, would be answered the moment I stepped inside her green room.
First glance? Model-esque, sleek black hair, leotard perfectly in place. Friends and family buzzing around—someone on hair, someone locked in on makeup, her sister nearby. ‘We used to be in a band,’ she says to me casually, with a smile. Evidence that BAYLI’s pop persona isn’t just something she architects, it’s her real life.
Even in the pre-show frenzy, she possesses a raw poise of a pop-act: infectious charisma, effortless charm. Like the cool girl at school you immediately want to be friends with.
Despite the loud conversations overtaking the room and bass from outside shaking the walls, she takes a moment to talk to me about what it means to be a Black, queer, femme pop star in 2025.
For anyone just meeting BAYLI — how would you introduce yourself in three words?
BAYLI: Ambitious. Holistic. Feminine. Those three words sum up who I am—from my art to how I move through the world.
You grew up in Bed-Stuy and used to front a funk-rock band. Now your music blends pop, hip-hop, dance, and more. How has working across genres shaped your approach?
BAYLI: I’ve always been inspired by a mix of sounds. I grew up in a culturally diverse home—my mom’s British, so I was raised on punk, ska, reggae, and new wave; my dad’s a born-and-raised New Yorker who put me onto classic hip-hop, disco, psychedelic, and club music. That blend shaped my ear. The “genre-bending” thing isn’t even intentional—it’s just who I am.
You’re performing at Knockdown Center for the closing of The Ruins season. What does that space—and that lineup—mean to you?
BAYLI: It’s such an honor to be part of this lineup. Every artist on the bill inspires me—from Cortisa, who’s truly the voice of our generation, to Alice Longyu Gao, who’s a creative genius. Being surrounded by people like that always reminds me I’m on the right path.
You’ve said you’re “super shy and pretty reserved,” which feels opposite to your stage persona. Where do those two BAYLIs meet or clash?
BAYLI: Yeah, it’s definitely a contrast. But I think a lot of artists are like that. I tap into an alter ego when I perform—it’s still 100% me, just a freer version. Music’s how I access that power. I don’t know if I’d have found it otherwise.
Your Stories From New York era was intimate and reflective, but your new work feels more maximalist, hyperpop, and club-driven. What shifted in you?
BAYLI: When I made Stories From New York, I was grieving my mom, who I shared a birthday with, and going through big changes, including management shifts. It was emotional. Now, I feel like I’ve come out of that fog and back into myself. I just want to feel sexy, carefree, optimistic. That energy drives my new music.
Your visuals feel just as essential as the music. What story are you trying to tell through those worlds?
BAYLI: The visuals are everything. I see myself as a storyteller, and the visuals bring that to life. Each project tells a different chapter—but right now, I’m capturing the life of a femme, lesbian, self-employed CEO and NYC (soon-to-be global) it-girl in 2025. It’s about what that looks, feels, and tastes like.
You fan favorite songs like “FEM-nomics” and “SUGARCOAT” mix playfulness, queerness, and commentary. Is it your intention to send a message, or do you let listeners interpret them for themselves?
BAYLI: I love when people find their own meaning. I’m just telling my truth, but it’s more fun when listeners project their experiences onto it. Music should feel personal—I want it to live in people’s worlds as much as they live in mine.
You’ve said before that you like “poking the bear.” What’s the bear right now—and what can fans expect next?
BAYLI: These days, the bear is politics—real talk. Standing up for human rights feels radical. The atrocities happening in Gaza, Sudan, Congo, Ukraine—it’s heartbreaking. Just existing as a queer, Black, femme-identifying artist feels like resistance. My plan is to keep showing up fully as myself and lifting my communities—all at once. That’s the statement.
When you think about the lineage of Black women in pop, where do you see yourself fitting in—or breaking from that line?
BAYLI: I see myself following the blueprint laid by the greats—Ella, Aretha, Diana, Donna, Beyoncé, Rihanna, Doja, Tyla… the list goes on. I’m just as bold and creative. Only difference is, I’m gay asf.
The GROWN question: How are you grown—or growing—on your artist journey right now?
BAYLI: I feel so grown. I joke that I’m a rookie and a vet at the same time. I’ve been in this industry for over a decade, even though many are just finding my music now. I’m proud of my evolution and feel more energized than ever. My best work is still ahead—so yeah, grown, grateful, and buzzing.
While our time was short, it was clear: underneath the pop persona, provocative lyrics, and sonic spectacle of synths and 808s, there’s real sincerity to her.
Someone whose true art form is liberating people. And does it by creating a world people can escape into.
By the time she went on, I was in the heat of the back-to-back crowd: glitter smeared on skin, voices hoarse, adrenaline high. Simply put, it was a crowd that was ready to party.
Still, it wasn’t a performance in the traditional way; no one was just spectating.
BAYLI turned her set into a two-way exchange, transforming the space into what seemed like a massive group of friends that had all decided to go out together. At one point, the entire crowd shouted with her: “I don’t want love, I want sushi for breakfast.”
But beyond the pounding sound system, the show felt like a time capsule of a universal experience every young person needs: going out to dance, getting lost in music, and unplugging from a screen in the process.
After hours of pop euphoria, I stepped out of Knockdown with more running through my mind than you’d think a night of music could stir.
It hit me how necessary artists like BAYLI are.
How necessary it is to keep pushing what “pop music” can be.
In a world that continues to trivialize the genre, reducing it to “party music” or “bubblegum pop,” BAYLI reminds you that pop is political. A sound that gives people a reason to believe in something bigger than themselves, even as the world feels increasingly out of control.
How there’s room for Black pop that’s anything but hollow — music that reflects the Black woman and queer experience, sonically adventurous, emotionally rich, and unbound by the status quo. BAYLI embodies that.
Dance music. Partying. All of it is survival.
And while winter begs people to stay inside, let us be reminded why we go out: to connect, to bear witness, to dance. Because sometimes, living itself is resistance, even if you don’t realize it.
Stream BAYLI’s new release, PASSENGER PRINCESS, out 10/17.