Meet Rian Wyld: Not Your Standard Issue Lyricist

Rian Wyld has never been afraid to walk her own path. Since penning her first rap in 2011, the New York–raised lyricist has built her art on honesty, spirituality, and resilience. For Wyld, music isn’t just entertainment — it’s therapy, a calling, and a tool for survival. Her sound blends grit and soul, pulling from live instrumentation and deep storytelling, while her journey reflects a refusal to compromise her integrity in an industry that often rewards shortcuts. Whether speaking on the healing power of faith, the dangers of artificial intelligence in music, or the cost of staying true in a trend-driven world, Wyld delivers her truth with conviction.

What did writing your first rap in 2011 teach you about yourself?

Writing my first rap taught me I had a gift — the ability to express heavy topics through words. It felt like medicine from God, helping me heal from life’s challenges. I realized I could take deep, dark feelings and turn them into something beautiful. That’s something I’ve carried ever since — the power to transform heavy emotions into art that heals not just me, but others who can relate.

You often avoid labeling your sound. Why is that?

I’ve written so much music that I haven’t released, and I take all of that into consideration when thinking about my sound. I’m influenced by so many artists and styles that I don’t want to miss the mark by oversimplifying. My most recent way of putting it is, “If Nipsey Hussle and Cleo Sol had a baby raised in New York in the ’90s, that’s my sound.” I try to stay genuine with that answer because my catalog reflects a wide range of influences and emotions.

How do your piano background and early inspirations still influence your music?

It comes through in my production and the instrumentals I choose to write to. I gravitate toward live instrumentation, especially piano-driven songs, which is something Ryan Leslie influenced me on. I think of music as emotion-driven, and my classical piano training makes me hear structure and melody differently. Even when I collaborate, I want that live, soulful sound.

What worries you most about AI in music?

Honestly, it worries me that people are even wasting time listening to AI when there are so many incredible human artists. Music is spiritual, it’s powerful, and it comes from lived experiences. As a mom, I don’t want my son growing up listening to AI “artists.” I love real music, real instruments, live shows — the emotion you can feel. AI waters that down. It also steals from artists because a lot of that music is sampled from humans without permission. It blends too much into society and takes away from the authenticity of the art form.

What message were you sending with your diss track aimed at Timbaland?

The message was simple: “Watch your mouth. My comment section is not a safe space.” I’m not an average rapper on social media doing this for gimmicks. Music is my passion and my soul. If you come into my comments talking down, you’re going to learn quickly that I’m not the one.

Does making music help you cope with personal loss?

Absolutely. Music has been my therapy. I don’t know where I’d be without it, especially after losing my brother. That was unimaginable pain. My faith and music are deeply connected — I can’t separate them. God gave me music as a gift, and it’s been my lifeline through the darkest moments. It’s not just an outlet; it’s been a source of survival.

How do you balance producing beats with writing lyrics?

I’m a lyricist and vocal producer first. I arrange songs on piano, but full production is something I’m still building. Right now, I rely on collaboration. For example, Sha Tha Goddess has been instrumental — she produced “Comments,” “Hold On,” and “Next Move,” which gained a lot of traction. When we linked up, it showed the power of women coming together in music. Writing verses comes naturally to me, but I balance that by working with producers who bring their own strengths to the table.

Can you share a time when being true to yourself came at a cost?

Staying true has definitely come with costs. I could have taken easier routes — being more sexual in my image, chasing social media trends, overexposing myself — but that’s not genuine to me. For women in hip-hop, that often seems like the path to quick notoriety, but I’d rather let my music speak. I think of artists like Rapsody, who stay soulful and conscious.

There have also been industry situations where men in positions of power — producers, A&Rs, promoters — made it clear they wanted something in return for opportunities. I set boundaries. I’ve never moved that way, and I won’t. Some doors may have closed, but I refuse to compromise myself. Integrity comes first, even if it slows me down.

What do you look for in people you work with?

Rian Wyld: First and foremost, the music has to be fire. Beyond that, I want genuine connections. I want to work with people who are fans of my music, like I am of theirs, who are collaborative and easy to build with. I pour everything into this — time, money, energy, my heart and soul. So, I need collaborators who can match that ambition, who have integrity and aren’t just chasing clout. When we’re locked in, the goal is to rise together.

What impact do you want your music to have on other artists?

I want artists to pour more of their heart and soul into their work. Don’t be afraid to put your most vulnerable experiences into music. That honesty inspires listeners and reminds people they’re not alone. Music is a tool that helps people survive the heavy parts of life. For me, staying true to yourself is the message I want to pass on. Don’t let trends or the industry dictate your art.