An exclusive interview with the NYC indie artist who turned a late-night studio improv into a raw love letter (and reality check) to the city that broke her open.
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Lyon, thanks for sitting down. Your song “New York City” has been hitting different for a lot who live in the city. Walk us through how it actually happened—because it doesn’t sound like a song that was planned for months.
Honestly? It wasn’t planned at all. I was wrapping up a completely different session—long day, everyone’s tired, mics are about to get packed up—and I just started freestyling over the last loop. The engineer kept the tape rolling, thank God. What came out was pure gut reaction. No filter, no second-guessing. That’s the version that made the record. The whole thing is basically me talking to New York like it’s an ex I’m still obsessed with.
The lyrics hit hard. One line in particular keeps sticking with people: “I am trying to win and sinning ain’t winning.” Is that the thesis of the song?
That’s the heartbeat right there. I was watching so many people—myself included—chasing the glamour, the hustle, the “make it” fantasy, but doing it in ways that felt dirty. Cutting corners, stepping on necks, selling pieces of yourself just to keep the lights on. And I caught myself thinking, *Wait… this ain’t winning.* That line came out raw in the improv and I knew I couldn’t change a word. It’s me admitting I’m still trying to figure out what “winning” actually looks like in a city that rewards the opposite.
You moved to New York right after the pandemic, right in the middle of the homelessness crisis and the immigration chaos. How did that timing shape the song?
I showed up thinking I was walking into the city of dreams. Instead I stepped off the train into tents on every corner, families sleeping on the subway, politicians on TV talking about “solutions” while the streets got worse. The glamour is still here—the lights, the fashion, the possibility—but it’s sitting right next to the disgust. The song is me processing both at the same time. I love this city so much it hurts, but I’m not gonna pretend the rot isn’t there.
So yeah, I call out the corruption. The politicians who campaign on hope and then disappear when the cameras turn off. It’s all in there.
The contrast in the track is brutal and beautiful—possibility versus poverty, glamour versus disgust. Was that intentional or did it just pour out?
It poured out. That’s the real New York I met in 2022–2023. One block you’re dodging rats and human waste, the next block someone’s popping champagne in a rooftop lounge worth more than most people’s rent. The song doesn’t pick a side because the city won’t let you. It’s both. Always both. I just held the mirror up and sang what I saw.
Any advice for other artists or dreamers moving here right now?
Come with your eyes open. Write the ugly parts too. And remember: trying to win is beautiful—sinning to get there isn’t. That’s the lineI’mtattooing on my soul this year.
Final question—title of the song is just New York City. No fancy subtitle. Why keep it that simple?
Because that’s what it is. No metaphors needed. This *is* New York City. Take it or leave it. I’m still trying to do both at the same time.
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New York City by Lyon Amor Brave (LAB) is available now on all platforms. Stream it, feel it, argue with it. Just don’t sleep on it. Find Lyon Amor Brave on Soundcloud, YouTube.
