The artist turning Cape Verde’s quiet soul into a global sound

The first thing Riah remembers about herself is that music was always present. She grew up in a family where instruments and melodies were part of daily life, and her father released an album in the early 2000s.

“I am from a musical family,” she said. “I’ve been doing music my entire life in different capacities.” It was a steady influence that shaped how she understood herself long before she ever imagined releasing her own work.

Years later, after college and a move across continents, she finally allowed herself to pursue music fully. She had always been someone who prepared for the worst, someone who tried to anticipate every possible outcome, but music required a different kind of openness.

“I finally admitted to myself that it was okay for me to pursue music,” she said. “It truly was the only thing I really wanted to pursue with my entire being. I allowed myself to do that, and it was a fantastic decision. And I am very much aware that it’s a very long road, but it’s one that I want to be on.” She began recording from her apartment in Madrid, learning how to build songs from the emotions she carried.

Her writing often begins in moments of reflection. She describes herself as someone who lives with anxiety, especially around love, and many of her songs grow out of that tension. “When I’m going through the motions of love, that’s when songs pour out of me,” she said. “And one of the taglines I’ve kind of stuck to is ‘I make music that will make you cry and learn to love yourself,’ because that’s certainly how I have gone through emotions with my own music.”

The idea behind her album Garden came from trying to create a space where she could feel steady, even when life felt unpredictable. “I cannot control all of the things that will happen to me,” she said. The album became a way of shaping a safe place around that truth.

Two songs on the album almost never made it. She doubted her voice, her writing, and whether they belonged.

“I am my worst critic,” she said. She considered removing them entirely, but she released them anyway. Listeners later told her those same songs were among their favourites, a reminder that the creative process often moves ahead of the artist’s confidence.

Her growth has been gradual. She recently shared data showing her annual Spotify listeners rising from 800 to 167,000 in just over three years. The surge surprised her, but she tries to keep her attention on the work rather than the numbers.

“It feels good,” she admits, “but I’m still trying to focus on making good art.”

It is, however, Riah’s Cape Verdean heritage that has remained central to her identity.

Cape Verde’s musical tradition is rich, shaped by genres like morna and carried by artists such as Cesária Évora, Mayra Andrade and June Freedom.

For generations, this tiny archipelago off West Africa’s coast has cradled a music that mends the heart’s quiet fractures, from Cesária Évora’s velvet laments to the unsung melodies of fishermen and families holding fast against the ocean’s pull.

Riah grew up listening to that sound, and she hopes to contribute to its visibility.

“Our music deserves to be listened to,” she said. Many people she meets have never heard of Cape Verde, and she wants her work to change that, even in small ways. “We are a very, very small country, and I’m very happy and proud that both of my parents come from there. And I feel like, when I go there, there’s a very big part of home that kind of kicks into place… Just getting our name out there would be fantastic,” she said.

She spent ten weeks on the islands last year, staying with her grandmother and meeting local musicians. Many face visa barriers that limit their ability to perform abroad. She hopes to bring them onto international stages as her own career grows. “I would love to be the reason they can fly somewhere else and perform their beautiful work,” she said.

Her path has been independent. She has spoken with labels and companies, including some she never expected would reach out, but the offers rarely aligned with what she needed. “Lots of times they can’t do too much for artists that we’re not already doing for ourselves,” she said.

Some deals required giving up too much for too little. She decided to continue with her small team, keeping control of her work while acknowledging the challenges. “The biggest place where I would love help is in management and PR,” she said. “There’s so much work behind the scenes, especially in the release of this album (Garden).”

She is now based in Boston and focused on performing more. She has played at shows in Madrid and Cape Verde, and she wants to build her stage experience gradually. She prefers intimate spaces where she can see the audience and feel their reactions. “I want to be in their faces, in their spaces,” she said.

“Getting the music directly into their ears.” She is also learning to use social media more intentionally, posting consistently and experimenting with content. “I threw myself in the deep end,” she said. “I’m glad I did.”

Her goals are long‑term. She is not chasing a sudden breakthrough. She prefers slow growth, steady listeners, and songs that find their audience over time. Her track “Too Fast” is an example. It had been out for a while before it suddenly climbed to hundreds of thousands of views. She checked YouTube one morning and saw the numbers rising. It kept growing over the next two months, a reminder that music often finds its moment quietly.

For Riah, music is not something she adopted later in life but the way she experiences the world. She taps rhythms without thinking, hums melodies while concentrating, and writes lyrics in the middle of ordinary days.

“It was always a part of who I am,” she said. The realisation was not that she loved music, but that she needed to share it. “I won’t feel complete unless I bring my own music to the world.”

Her work now carries the quiet soul of Cape Verde, the emotional honesty of her writing, and the patience of someone building a career one step at a time. She is shaping a sound that reflects where she comes from and where she hopes to go, and she is doing it with the same steady rhythm that has guided her since childhood.