From Rome to NPR: Laila’s Next Chapter

Meeting Laila Al Habash is always a pleasure. Even though we don’t cross paths often, every conversation feels like reconnecting with someone you’ve known forever—she brings calm, sunny energy that instantly puts you at ease.

Originally from Rome and now based in Milan, Laila has found in music the perfect way to express her world: a signature blend of groove, melancholy, sincerity, and lightness. After Mystic Motel (2021) and the Long Story Short EP (2024), she returns with “Fumantina”, the lead single from her upcoming album. The song explores anxiety and the unsettled sensation of forever chasing something—with a tenderness that knows no mercy.

While we await the album, Laila offered an intimate, emotional performance for NPR World Café, the legendary U.S. radio format that has welcomed artists such as Beach House, Vampire Weekend, and Michael Kiwanuka. Broadcast by over 300 American stations, the live set was recorded in Rome’s Trastevere neighborhood, with a quiet, attentive audience.

In that performance she also introduced “Tuareg”, a new song produced by Niccolò Contessa (I Cani). It’s a first glimpse at the album’s direction—a song born in a flash, equal parts raw emotion and clarity, weaving acoustic guitar, gentle brass touches, and field recordings of a late-season seashore, complete with distant children and soft waves.

One steamy July morning in a quiet Milan, Laila and I sat down to talk. She shared her perspective on the album-in-progress, life between Rome and Milan, her fascination with cooking, her endless curiosity, and how she’s learning to hold anxiety—without giving it too much space. She speaks with calm, irony, and a quiet offbeat quality that makes her truly stand out.

Hi Laila—how are you? How are you feeling, both artistically and personally?

I’m well—it’s summer, I’m enjoying the empty city, which isn’t bad at all. I feel like I’m in a transitional phase: I’m about to finish the new album. I’m happy, I listen to it constantly, I think about it nonstop, and I ask myself so many questions. The challenge is knowing how to wait—and not take yourself too seriously.

Would you tell us who you are, and how you’d describe your music to someone who doesn’t know you yet?

I’m 26, I’m from Rome. I like writing songs with groove and catchy choruses. Most of what I write is about me, but I’m terrible at describing myself or my songs. For now, I live in Milan.

You recently performed live for NPR World Café—what did it feel like to bring your music into such an international space? What was the vibe?

It was an honor—very electrifying. We were in a beautiful studio in Trastevere, Rome, performing for American NPR supporters and donors. Their attention was almost moving—I stopped to speak with many of them afterward, which was lovely. We recorded almost everything in one take—it was a true live performance. I was emotionally tense at first, but everything happened fast and spontaneously.

You also introduced “Tuareg,” an unreleased track produced by Niccolò Contessa. What can you share about this song? What role does it play in the new album?

It’s the first song I wrote for the new album. I wrote it all at once—it’s one of those pieces that’s born like a tear and then stands on its own. I started with a guitar-and-voice demo, then asked Niccolò to produce it because I was sure he’d dress it well—and he loved it. We kept it minimal: acoustic guitar, voice, a few delicate wind instruments, a brief acoustic drum cameo at the end, and ambient beach recordings Niccolò had captured off-season—children playing faintly and the sound of waves.

Can you share anything about the upcoming album? What might listeners expect in terms of sound or emotional tone?

I had fun experimenting while keeping the project cohesive. I feel I made a step forward in songwriting because I needed to express reflections in a way I hadn’t before. The producers on the record were a great team—always open to dialogue and new directions. The thread connecting the album is that it was conceived with live performance in mind. My guiding question: would I enjoy performing this live? That became a solid compass.

Rome and Milan—two cities that belong to you. How do they coexist in you and in your music? You’re adopting Milan, but is there something you still miss?

They both belong to me; my life is split between them. I feel comfortable in both, but I never fully belong to either. I’ve lived in Milan for five years, yet it often seems like no one realizes—I’m told I look like a visitor, people ask how long I’ll stay, as if I don’t live here. Sometimes I think it’s a cosmic sign, like the universe telling me to move back to Rome—maybe we’re all actors trying to manipulate me. I miss the light in Rome, how it saturates everything, making the sky glow and the buildings dramatic, and the natural Italian wit people have there. Most of my songs were born while traveling by train or car between the two cities—maybe it’s fine like that. Ideas often come in pauses or transitions, regardless of location.

Beyond music, what are your passions or obsessions?

I love cooking and spend a lot of time experimenting. I like starting with simple ingredients and creating something new—better if I can share it with someone. Cooking, in that sense, is a creative exercise you get to repeat multiple times a day. I see it as a free-form game: what do I invent today? Like childhood crafts, but edible. I also read and listen to astrology every day. This year, I’ve tentatively started painting in oils. From time to time I get hyper-focused on something—a music genre I don’t know, or a person—and dive in until I know everything; then I move on. I’m endlessly curious but not great at consistency. The only things that have never left my daily life are music and astrology.

Does artificial intelligence intrigue you or make you uneasy? Would you use it to write or produce?

I’ve found it useful for interpreting dreams. For music, it bores me a bit—I tried it, but in songwriting it doesn’t help at all. It’s efficient, fast, even polite—but it has no talent. And thinking about the water and energy AI consumes to write a song… I ask myself if I can do without it—and the answer is always yes. That said, you probably need to learn how to use it properly; a friend of mine has worked with it for years and even built interesting synths.

Is there something you still dream of doing with music that you haven’t done yet?

I can’t say. I’ve been making records for a few years and some unexpected things have already happened. I love when surprises arrive. Maybe I dream of sharpening my vision even more—not losing it, but expanding it.

In “Fumantina” you mention anxiety and running after things. How do you relate to anxiety now? Any tricks to keep it at bay?

Stopping thinking of everything as an unsolvable disaster was a good start—thanks, you can have a trophy for that. But the mind plays tricks—and you tend to build habits and attachments. That’s the real challenge.

If you had to describe your present using a color, a sound, and an image—what would they be?

Interesting. Right now: sky blue, the loud drilling noise from the neighbors that’s been haunting me for months, and the image of my desk with studio monitors, audio interface, and the microphone.

Interview by @benedetta.borioni

Photos by @rosariorex

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