Leah Cleaver: Pushing Up Flowers

Leah Cleaver’s debut EP Pushing Up Flowers is a love letter to self-discovery, to messy growth, to the fearless act of blooming where you’re planted. The London-based artist has always blurred the edges between intimacy and attitude, but this project feels like a deeper reveal—tender, bi, black, and beautifully bold. Every track shimmers with raw emotion, stitched together by her instinct to turn uncertainty into art.

Giving In to the Unknown

“I didn’t know what I wanted to express, but I knew I needed to get it out,” Nia says of the record’s emotional root. That surrender—to confusion, to not knowing—is what gives Pushing Up Flowers its pulse. Opening track “Get You Home” sets the tone: a bassline built for flirty courage and midnight decisions. It’s a song that dares you to be hot, to text your crush, to live out loud. “I wanted listeners to come away with a cheeky smirk,” she grins.

For the Bi Baddies

At its heart, Leah’s world is a bisexual utopia: free, playful, and grounded in truth. “I’m bi and have a beautiful boyfriend I’m madly in love with, and I also love flirting with gorgeous gals in an East London pub,” she says. Her lyrics refuse to flatten that duality. Instead, she celebrates it—turning what’s often misunderstood into pure power. Being mixed-race and queer in the UK adds another layer to her storytelling. “So much of this music felt good to make because I didn’t question anything. It was mine,” she says. “I got to express myself in a world I belonged to because I made it.”

Community as Creative Engine

That self-made world mirrors U Gd, Girl?, the DIY collective she co-founded to uplift women and non-binary artists. “My music holds the same ethos,” Leah explains. “It’s about the incredible women in my life, the beyond-binary ways to own your womanhood, and how community helps you through life.” Whether she’s borrowing a friend’s studio or leaning on chosen family, that grassroots energy defines her art just as much as the music does.

The Joy of Experimentation

In the studio, Leah follows feeling, not formula. “Experimenting feels different every session,” she says. “Sometimes it’s just making drum noises with your mouth.” That looseness traces back to London’s intimate live circuit, where she learned to “look at people when you’re singing something to them” and to feed off their reactions. Every crowd, every nod, becomes part of the work.

The Dance Floor as Revolution

Success, for Leah, doesn’t live on charts. It’s on the floor—where difference dissolves in rhythm. “I want people to leave the gig with two new besties and a new love for how their body moves,” she says. “I want them to be inspired to seek gorgeous things because they deserve them.” Pushing Up Flowers is more than a debut—it’s an offering, a reminder that chaos can be sacred and softness can be strength.

If there’s one thing she hopes listeners walk away with, it’s this: “It doesn’t matter how perfect it sounds. Sometimes you just need to say the literal thing you want or believe in.”