July in New York is practically a heatwave disguised as a party.
It’s the part of summer when excitement starts to bleed into exhaustion. The sweat is collective. Something’s probably in retrograde. The days feel long. The nights feel longer.
And if you’re not feeling overstimulated and overbooked, you’re getting there.
Still, there’s that little voice in your head that whispers: Go out.
It’s a strange feeling, knowing you’re always one decision away from a night you didn’t plan for.
But most will take the gamble. Because who doesn’t want to tell that story?
That’s how I ended up at Herbert Von King Park when I saw the SummerStage lineup: Laila!, Sasha Keeble, and Talia Goddess. A flyer that wasn’t your typical bill.
Laila!, nicknamed Baby Genius and famously Mos Def’s daughter, is known for her self-produced alt-R&B that feels both nostalgic and like the sound of the next wave.
Sasha Keeble, a rising UK R&B songstress, known for her distinct vocal and lyrics that are too vulnerable for her own good.
And then there’s Talia Goddess. To call her a master of many would be an understatement.
A singer, rapper, producer, DJ, and multi-instrumentalist with no allegiance to one genre. Her sound is a fusion of neo-soul, electronica, R&B, dancehall, and pop.
It’s clear she has no interest in picking a lane. And that’s why you pay attention.
In a city where artists play every night and there’s too many lineups to keep up with, it’s more than valid to ask: what makes a show worth bearing a heatwave for?
This one felt different. Not just because it was all women, but because these women were in full creative control. Self-written. Self-produced. Self-defined.
In an industry still obsessed with packaging women into archetypes catered to men, this lineup refused the likes of an algorithm. No one here was trying to be palatable or marketable. And they didn’t have to be.
That, I’d argue, is rare.
Talia is who I came to see. Notoriously known for her COLORS performance of “EVERYBODY LOVES A WINNER” (200K+ views and counting), which basically reads like a blueprint of her style. Hypnotic, vulnerable, raw.
By the time I got to the G train, the prelude to the show felt like it had already started. A group of girls with slicked-back buns fanned themselves while on the phone. “You tryna go to this concert? It’s free.”
Funny how the city is usually a million people in a million directions, until suddenly, everyone’s headed to the same place with the same end game.
By the time I stumbled into the park, it didn’t feel like a concert, but more like a block party. Part familial, part cosmic. The kind of event where you’re almost guaranteed to run into someone from a past life. (And of course, I did.)
The grass lawn was packed. Young people. Babies. Aunties. Elders. Stans. Uncs. Friends turned lovers, or getting there. People freshly off the clock, still in uniform.
Everyone was there to see someone.
Just as the sun rang down, Talia stepped on stage in an all-white fit like she’d done it a million times before. In part, because she has.
Now 23, she’s been performing in NYC since she was six. Part of it is probably muscle memory. The other part? Is what happens when you know yourself as an artist.
I expected eclectic. What impressed me more was how it all fit together and came alive on stage. One moment she was rapping to the point of breathlessness on “EVERYBODY LOVES A WINNER,” the next, crooning in falsetto over dreamy synths. She gave new shape to “POSTER GIRL” and “RECLUSE,” then shouted out immigrants and first-gens before launching into “RAGGA,” a mix of Caribbean cadence, UK cool, and Brooklyn bravado.
To call it rule-bending would be selling it short. The whole thing felt like a personal journey into her head. As high-art as it was, it was also just fun. Her dancers, also in white, added a playful, flirtatious layer to her set. WLW-coded, but never forced.
She gave fans a peek at what’s next. Unreleased cuts that felt like love letters to the city and love notes to herself on “LOVE IS POWER,”.
That’s the duality of star-power. She’s commanding, but there’s a softness at the core.
It’s safe to say a lot of people came for her, but she turned over some new fans too. It was the kind of set that makes people spill over. A few came up, unprompted, needing to say it out loud — even while I was trying to catch a second with her.
Talking to Talia in person, I realized her range isn’t just something she turns on. Offstage, she’s soft-spoken. Low voice, calm tone. A total departure from her performance energy.
I asked her a few questions about her artistry, her next chapter, and what it meant to perform back home.
You just did your first NYC show in a minute. What did it feel like to be back?
Talia Goddess: It doesn’t feel different. It’s the most familiar. This is where it all started. I’ve been performing since I was six.
It means so much more in NYC because there’s so much noise, so much saturation, so much choice. To stand out, to get love and fans here—especially after being abroad—that feels like a feat.
After you’ve done so many shows, the novelty wears off. But there’s a full-circleness about being in Herbert Von King Park. It’s home.
Performing was the bread and butter before I ever started releasing music. Back in the day, we didn’t have streaming platforms. Barely even had YouTube. You had to show up and prove yourself in the moment. Growing up in New York, that wasn’t easy. It’s a tough crowd. But that grind of learning to connect face-to-face, that’s what built me.
There are videos of me at nine years old performing at nightclubs in Queens. It gave me an edge.
Performing is when I channel something supernatural. That’s when TALIA GODDESS comes to the front. Seeing people in the flesh, in real time, that’s what brings the music to life. Everything starts on stage.
You don’t shy away from WLW (“woman-loving-woman”) love or desire in your music. Why is that important for you to express?
Talia Goddess: It’s funny..I’ve realized how unorthodox it is to live a life that doesn’t center the male gaze at all. But I’ve never been someone who’s sought validation or approval, especially from men. That’s just never been something I aspired to.
So much of womanhood is shaped around male validation. Having a boyfriend, having a man, being married. That gets treated like the highest accomplishment. It becomes this aspiration that can take over your life. It shapes women’s potential for themselves.
Loving women, especially Black women, is so healing because it’s also a form of self-love. Seeing someone who looks like you, reflected back at you, and having that love be received—in a world that doesn’t always show Black women love—that’s radical.
My music is meant to be for Black women. It’s meant to empower us. To show we can be confident and sexy without censoring ourselves or thinking about men at all. Because that’s a form of liberation.
How do you protect your creative freedom while navigating an industry that often flattens Black expression?
Talia Goddess: It’s something I’ve had to grow into. Being a young Black girl in the studio, I had to learn to advocate for my ideas. It’s so easy to be overlooked. People expect you to give without getting anything back.
That’s part of why I started producing my own music. Most of the engineers and producers I worked with were older men, and they often had their own ideas about what music should sound like. I wanted my sound to reflect me, not what someone else thinks I should sound like. The ‘DIY’ part is key to the authenticity. It’s the only way I can really tell my story.
There’s also the layers I carry. Being Black, being first-gen Caribbean, having a British mom. And I’ve never led with, “Oh, I’m a queer Black woman,” but I’m aware of how it affects me. Still, I refuse to be a victim of it.
I’m grateful for the misunderstandings and the setbacks because they give me depth. That’s part of being a Black woman. You build a different kind of stamina just to keep going. That’s why autonomy is everything to me. I don’t bow down to anyone but myself.
Your latest single, “RECLUSE,” feels like a shift. How does it set the tone for where you’re headed next in 2025 and beyond?
Talia Goddess: I made “RECLUSE” last summer. I was pulling inspiration from my last relationship and how intoxicating love can be. Too much of anything isn’t good.
That’s kind of what my experience in London has felt like. Adjusting to a new city, leaving New York, and having to start from scratch. I spent a lot of time in isolation. But it’s helped me gain clarity on myself, my thoughts, and my ideas.
“RECLUSE” is kind of just an explanation of what my solitude means to me. How it can be a form of protection and defense. Sonically, it’s me leaning more into the psychedelic sound, playing with my voice, using effects, leaning into digital creativity. It’s about closing that chapter, focusing on myself, and being rebellious. I’m going to do what I want.
That’s what people can expect next: more psychedelic, electronic R&B sounds… just expect more electronic sounds, more experimentation.
By the end of the night, the park was in full communion. Sasha Keable had the crowd singing her hooks back like they were onstage too. Destin Conrad and Isaiah Falls made surprise guest appearances, and Laila! closed it all, with what felt like a playful exhale.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to watch women running it on their own terms. No performance for the male gaze. No pandering. Just a real-time reminder of what it looks like when artists get to be messy, experimental, and free.
It’s refreshing in a world that tries so hard to flatten women into an algorithm, instilling fear that if they don’t play by arbitrary rules, they’ll be left unseen.
This was the opposite of that.
An IRL reset. A preview of where the industry is headed, and a release I, and probably everyone there, needed.
And who knew? If you’re lucky, sometimes you can catch it for free.