Rhea Raj is making pop music for the girls that pop music left out

Photographed by Marina Oya. Styled by Rumsha Hassan. Makeup: Emilia Weryńska. Lighting: A’lon Peoples. Production assistance: Fernando Lopez.

Off stage, the 25-year-old slips into an alter ego—one who, at least from what I can see on Zoom, feels worlds apart from the dazzling character she transforms into on stage. The sequins are swapped for a plain black tank top and her kohl-lined eyes soften behind a pair of scholarly spectacles. The only remnant of her performing persona is a silver Om necklace glinting at her collarbone. This version of Raj is at home in her parents’ unassuming garage, which doubles as her recording studio. “Like most Indian parents, they love having us home,” she smiles, referring to her 19-year-old sister Lara Raj, a member of the global girl group Katseye. The garage is their creative playground and shared work area. “We respect each other’s art so much, we give each other space. We’re really good at trading off,” Raj grins.

The siblings have a knack for decorating too. The studio is a glorious riot: wall-mounted Lana Del Rey posters rub shoulders with Britney Spears’s Blackout cover and Lionel Richie vinyls, heady incense swirls around prayer candles tangled in mic stands, and a whiteboard scribbled with ideas holds a mirror to their fever dreams. One wall is claimed by a futuristic art print of blurred faces, a striking contrast to the cavalcade of mirror-work cushions from Rajasthan scattered across a pair of couches. In the centre, a coffee table groans under the weight of Vivienne Westwood Catwalk, a hardcover by Rick Rubin, and half-empty wine glasses from a moonlit soirée. Behind it, a gigantic mirror gleams, reflecting a rack of floaty outfits. Part shrine, part stage set, part mad scientist’s lab—every corner hums with the sisters’ restless, irrepressible energy.