Tia Gordon: Creating Music That Feels Like a Midnight Confession
- neunorganisation
- Apr 11
- 3 min read
© Tia Gordon
The singer-songwriter explores how silence, softness, and storytelling shaped a unique sound rooted in truth, memory, and the messy beauty of the human experience.
“I’m someone who’s always lived between words I couldn’t say and the silence that held them, and I think that’s really where my artistry started. I was born in Croydon, South London, surrounded by noise, pace, and texture — and then we moved to Kent, where there was greenery, quiet, and time to think. That contrast really shaped me. I learned to find my voice in the stillness, and then carried it back into the chaos. My identity has felt confusing at times, but as I grow, I realise it’s shaped by so much — both my environment and my heritage.
I come from Jamaican lineage through my grandparents, who carried with them rhythm, resilience, and a storytelling spirit that I try to honour in everything I create. They taught me to find power in softness, to hold history and healing in the same breath, and I hope that runs through every song I write. I feel everything deeply, and instead of numbing that, I let it be the foundation of my work, even when it’s felt unbelievably uncomfortable.
© Tia Gordon
As a creative person, I don’t fit neatly into a box, and I’ve stopped trying to. I’m drawn to rawness, to emotional honesty, to the in-between spaces. I’d define myself as someone who makes music from memory and emotion, from silence and saturation. My style lives somewhere between alternative R&B, soul, and spoken word, but more than genre, it’s about intimacy. I want my music to feel like a confession someone left on a voicemail they never planned to send. I care about truth, about honouring the human experience in its messiest, most beautiful form. My message is always rooted in connection, in reminding people that they aren’t alone in what they feel.
My second EP, Wait. I have something to say. x is such a personal body of work. It’s different to my previous EP; still raw, but it also holds space for sass and wit. It’s also unpolished in parts, on purpose. It’s about what happens when you stop performing and just let yourself feel. The lead track, I’m not mad, speaks to that emotional limbo, when you’ve been hurt, but you’re too tired to fight and too soft to hate. It’s about carrying the weight of unspoken things, and learning to put them down, even without closure. When I write, it starts with a feeling I’ve been avoiding. I sit with it, let it consume me, and then I begin to put words around it. My process is emotional first, then musical. I try not to rush the feeling into form, I try to honour it.
Collaboration has been essential in this project. Working with Pip Millett brought such a calm clarity, she understood the emotional space I was sitting in. And Sophie Faith really challenged me. She asked the hard questions and didn’t let me stay comfortable, she pushed me to be more honest. In both of those spaces, I found something deeper. I think we underestimate how much creative magic comes from being held by others, from being seen not just as a product, but as a person. In this industry, things move so fast and can sometimes feel transactional, so having collaborators who care about the “why” as much as the “what” is rare and grounding.
Being someone who leads with vulnerability can feel like walking through a storm with no umbrella. There’s pressure to brand yourself, to simplify, to harden. I’ve been underestimated, told I was “too sensitive,” or that I needed to “toughen up”, but I’ve learned that my sensitivity is my power, it’s how I connect and how I create. I overcame those challenges by returning to the reason I started: To make something real and to write for the version of me who needed to hear what I’m saying now.
© Mom Tudie
I’m constantly inspired by artists who embody emotional integrity, such as Lauryn Hill, Cleo Sol, Olivia Dean; artists who don’t just make music, they offer presence. My aspiration isn’t about fame. It’s about resonance. I want someone to listen to a song of mine at 2 am and feel less alone. I want to create a space where the messy, unspoken, and beautiful parts of being human are held with care. That’s the legacy I want to leave. And if this EP can be a soft landing for someone, if even one person feels seen in something I’ve written, then I’ve done what I came here to do.”
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