Far from the manicured Paris of guidebooks and postcards, Alewya is sat on a modest wooden bench, nursing a warm cup of lemon and ginger tea only minutes after her performance at We Love Green; an eco-responsible music festival that takes place annually in the heart of the French capital. Showing little sign of post-performance fatigue, the London-based singer-songwriter appeared strikingly calm and composed, requiring no adjustment whatsoever to transition from performing before thousands to engaging in a one-on-one conversation.
Born in Saudi Arabia to Egyptian and Ethiopian parents, the 31-year-old represents a rare breed of artist, one for whom creative expression refuses to be contained within a single medium. Though most will know her as a musician whose work sits somewhere between the experimental and the accessible, her artistic universe happens to extend well beyond sound. A model, a painter, as well as a visual creative in equal measure, she moves fluidly between practices, treating each not as a separate pursuit but as a different manifestation of the same artistic impulse.
Between so many titles and outlets, one can’t help but wonder how Alewya describes herself given the breadth of mediums through which she works. She pauses briefly before arriving at an answer that’s refreshingly simple. “I’m God’s child, innit?” she said with a laugh. “I’m just another human being on this planet, figuring stuff out, making music, making art, expressing myself, and just navigating it all.”
Humble and visibly amused by the question itself, she appeared reluctant to place herself on any sort of pedestal. For all the disciplines she moves between, she speaks about her work with the composure of someone still very much in the process of discovery. But then again, that outlook is consistent with her story and background. Born in one place to parents that come from two others, before being raised in a fourth—in West London to be exact—like many children of the diaspora, identity was never something fixed or inherited wholesale, but rather something to be continuously explored, questioned, and assembled. Growing up, there was a persistent feeling of having to catch up; of learning the histories, cultures, and nuances of places she belonged to, yet experienced from afar.
Still, Alewya is careful not to frame that experience as one of loss. “I am constantly a student in that way,” she says. “But it’s not coming from a place of feeling less than or robbed of anything, because my mum raised me in my culture.” Instead, she describes a more nuanced relationship with belonging. Close enough to feel at home, yet distant enough to remain an observer. “I’m kind of an outsider at the same time,” she explained. “Not an outsider in a bad way. It’s more like, ‘Oh, that’s Alewya, she’s from outside.'”
Rather than viewing her background as a source of fragmentation, she sees it as an advantage. “It’s the sum of it all,” she explained “It’s not just the Ethiopian, it’s not just the Egyptian. My father was actually born and raised in Sudan. Then there’s London, which gives it the grit and the audacity. There’s dancehall, reggae, hip-hop, drum and bass, jungle. I see all of these things through my own eyes and ears.”
She paused before arriving at what feels like the closest thing to a personal philosophy. “Your DNA is your DNA, and it’s going to show up in your life at some point, whether you want it to or not; which is beautiful. I’m just the embodiment of everything that I’ve seen, everything that I’ve been through, everything that I am, and everything that my mum and dad were.”
And that belief extends beyond identity and into creativity itself as Alewya is convinced that much of her artistic journey was written long before she was aware of it, and bound to show up at some point whether she wanted it to or not. “I really believe in God. That’s why I have a song called Maktoub. It’s just written.
Yet, she is quick to clarify that spirituality, at least in her case, has little to do with dogma. If anything, she views it as a way of moving through the world. “I think people hear me talk about spirituality and imagine I’m levitating on a mountain somewhere,” she revealed. “But it’s not like that. I think being an artist, full stop, means you’re operating in the world of the spirit.”
The irony, of course, is that she never considered herself creative growing up; quite the opposite in fact. One of her earliest experiences with art ended with classmates laughing at her attempt to draw a hand during an art lesson, an experience she admits put her off creative pursuits for years. It wasn’t until much later, while living in New York, that she found herself drawn back to creating. Painting led to graffiti, graffiti led to animation, animation led to producing beats, and beats eventually led to music. “I started making animations and putting music on top of them, then making beats for the animations,” she reminisced. “Then I got into music, became obsessed with it, started playing guitar and now, I’m here.”
If anything, the story reinforced a belief she had already alluded to earlier in our conversation: what made her feel different was rarely her background, but rather the things that captured her attention. “People have expectations of what a Black person is, what a girl is, what a Black British person is,” she confessed. “There are so many boxes with all these unspoken rules. I think that’s what made things difficult sometimes—to just be curious about stuff.”
And for an artist whose work draws from everything from soul and electronic music to hip-hop, jazz, punk, and East African sounds, such rigidity feels entirely alien. “True artists don’t really see genre,” she continued. “When you’re in the studio, it’s not complicated. You just think, ‘Oh, this sounds good. This sounds nice. Put this here. Do that there.’ There’s no intellectualizing of it.”
Many moons later, the young girl who once abandoned art after being laughed out of a classroom has an acclaimed EP to her name, Panther in Mode, a memorable COLORS performance, runway appearances for the likes of DKNY, and a growing reputation as one of the most compelling multidisciplinary artists operating today. On June 26, she will add another milestone to that list with the release of her long-awaited debut album, ZERO.If Alewya’s story proves anything, it is that the things we are most drawn to have a habit of finding their way back to us. Whether you call it fate, destiny, or simply following your curiosity, the creative instincts she spent years ignoring eventually revealed themselves impossible to outrun. And if some things are indeed written as she believes, then this chapter was always going to find its way onto the page.
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