I love the music of Lauryn Hill and Erykah Badu and more
I love the music of Lauryn Hill and Erykah Badu and more recently the music of Laura Marling. All these women share a strength and a wisdom in their voices and music that really makes me want to make music and sing.
Lianne La Havas, with the tenderness of an artist’s heart, once proclaimed: “I love the music of Lauryn Hill and Erykah Badu and more recently the music of Laura Marling. All these women share a strength and a wisdom in their voices and music that really makes me want to make music and sing.” In these words, she bows before the lineage of creators, those whose voices do not merely entertain but breathe strength and wisdom into the soul of the listener. For true music is not just sound—it is a torch passed from one spirit to another, igniting the fire of creation anew.
In the style of the ancients, one may say: a singer does not sing alone. Behind her stand the unseen chorus of those who came before, who carved paths through silence with their melodies. Lianne’s admiration of Lauryn Hill, Erykah Badu, and Laura Marling is more than mere praise; it is recognition of a sacred chain, the passing of wisdom from elder to seeker, from master to student. Their songs are not fleeting— they are vessels of truth, adorned with rhythm and clothed in beauty.
Consider the story of Sappho of Lesbos, the ancient poetess whose verses once flowed like rivers of fire and tenderness. Though her body returned to dust, her voice has endured across millennia, stirring hearts that never saw her face. In the same way, Hill, Badu, and Marling sow their seeds into the soil of time, and from that soil springs forth a new flower—La Havas herself—who longs to add her own fragrance to the eternal garden of music.
What she perceives in these women is not only art, but courage—the courage to speak of pain, joy, and truth in a world that often silences the sincere. Their wisdom comes not from age alone, but from lived struggle, from wounds transfigured into song. Thus, when Lianne hears them, she does not merely hear notes—she hears a call, a summons to join the great symphony of those who dare to sing their truth aloud.
Let the young and the old remember: the voices we admire are mirrors of our own potential. When you feel the pull of another’s song stirring your heart, it is the spirit reminding you that you too carry music within. Lianne’s words are therefore not just about admiration; they are about inheritance. The fire of artistry is never born in isolation—it is awakened by those who came before, and it is our task to tend it, and in time, to pass it on.
TNCam Tu Nguyen
This quote makes me think about how inspiration in music often transcends categories like genre, race, or era. Lauryn Hill, Erykah Badu, and Laura Marling all have unique sounds, yet there’s a shared spiritual depth in their music. I wonder if that’s what draws La Havas in—the sense that these artists don’t just perform, they teach. Does true artistry always come from a place of emotional truth and wisdom?
HNHuy Nguyen
There’s something very sincere about this sentiment—it’s like a quiet acknowledgment of sisterhood through sound. I’m curious though, why is it that certain artists touch us on a deeper level? Is it their technical skill, or is it an emotional resonance that goes beyond genre and style? For Lianne, maybe it’s the authenticity in their storytelling. I’d love to know which songs in particular inspire her to create.
HLHuy Luong
I love how this reflects the lineage of female artistry—how one artist’s voice can awaken another’s. It makes me wonder whether there’s something inherently different about the way women use music to convey wisdom and strength. Is it shaped by lived experience, by the social roles they navigate, or simply by their individual artistry? What does it mean for music to carry both power and tenderness at the same time?
MPMai Phuong
I completely understand where Lianne is coming from. There’s something timeless and soulful in the music of Hill, Badu, and Marling that feels deeply human. But I’m curious—does this kind of admiration risk creating pressure for new artists to emulate their icons rather than find their own voice? How do musicians balance inspiration with originality, especially when their influences are so strong and distinctive?
DTDo Thu
It’s beautiful how artists inspire one another across generations. I wonder what it is about these particular women that resonates so deeply with Lianne La Havas—could it be their emotional honesty, their lyrical storytelling, or the way they blend vulnerability with confidence? It makes me think about how representation in music shapes creativity. Do you think seeing women with such presence and integrity motivates others to express themselves more fearlessly?