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[title]It is Valentine’s week, and London is looking appropriately unromantic. Supermarket aisles are stuffed with wilting roses and ‘Dine In’ meal deals offering ‘3 courses & prosecco for only £25!’ Baggy-eyed commuters carrying branded tote bags stand on the Oxford Circus tube escalator, faces looking like love is the farthest thing from their minds. It is four degrees celsius, but according to the weather app, it feels like minus two.
The mood is chirpier as we wrap up our latest Time Out cover shoot in the basement of music venue The Social on Little Portland Street. Cassie’s early noughties hit Long Way 2 Go blasting through the hi-fidelity speakers and Mahalia – her hair piled high in thin blonde braids – is posing in red tights, a pink fur coat and a t-shirt plastered with the words ‘Voulez Vous Couchet Avec Moi C’est Soir?’ ‘I’m normally more into blues, but I’ve been wearing more reds since you,’ the R&B musician says, nodding at her stylist in the corner. ‘I wore all red and went as a lovergirl for Halloween last year. This year, I’m going as a stuffed olive from Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging. Georgia is the ultimate lovergirl.’
Mahalia is – in many senses of the word – a romantic, but the pomp and performance of Valentine’s Day gets a bit much even for her. ‘When you’re out, you’re looking around, like, oh, my god, we’re all couples,’ she says, cringing. She much prefers to stay in, recalling a particularly memorable Valentine’s dinner with ‘her fellow’, where he cooked her asian food in her flat. ‘He set it all up and there were candles,’ she says, unashamedly gushy.
That pretty much sums up Mahalia Burkmar: she’s not afraid to show how she feels. And, despite having been in the business for 12 years – with two critically acclaimed studio albums, three MOBO awards and a Grammy nom under her belt – she’s more than willing to admit that she doesn’t have it all figured out. In the lead-up to the release of her suitably named new EP, Luvergirl Vol. 1, she’s ready to embrace a new era – personally, as well as professionally.
‘I’ve always danced around things, I’ve always wanted things to be modest,’ she says. ‘This feels like a real moment of growth for me and my womanhood.’
Big bad city
When we talk on Zoom from her home in Bethnal Green, the Wednesday before the shoot, Mahalia is chirpy. Her hair is pulled back from her face with a grey, Y2K-style headband and she’s swinging around on a chair in her kitchen, her fridge in the background plastered with what looks like black-and-white photographs. ‘It was just one of those really, really sweet days,’ she says, speaking about her morning. ‘The weather was nice, I put on a cute outfit, and I had my headphones in, listening to the Leon Thomas album. It was kind of romantic, on the Lime bike, going to all different places. I sat outside Ozone, just off Hackney Road, had a coffee and twice people that I knew walked past and came and joined me.’
It was kind of romantic, on the Lime bike, going to all different places
Mahalia has been living in this part of east London for six years, but now she’s ready for a bit of quiet. ‘I find the house prices really hard to justify,’ she says. ‘And also – I do just hate gentrification and what it does to community. In my heart, I don’t want to be one of the music kids who isn’t from London and is buying a fuck-off house right next to Victoria Park. So, I’m going to be leaving. I’m leaving really soon, actually. I’m kind of just trying to soak it all up.’
From the way she’s speaking, you might half expect her to be moving out of the M25 completely – perhaps back to Leicester, where she was born and bred. But no: she’s moving to the other side of town, to Kensal Green. ‘I am in that part of my 20s where you’re a little bit over it,’ she says, referencing the inescapable east London pub culture.
Now aged 26, Mahalia moved to the capital when she was 18, finishing performing arts school in Birmingham early and living on friends’ couches, with next to no money. At one point, she’d hop between friend’s beds on alternative nights because they didn’t have a sofa, her suitcase sitting on the stairwell (not an ideal set-up, she notes, when you’re trying to write music and have nowhere to play guitar). ‘It was quite intense,’ she says, about that time. ‘I didn’t know how to penetrate the music circles. Every time I walked into a party, I was shitting myself. I didn’t have any money, I was in this city where suddenly everything cost double. Then I fell out with one of my mates that I was staying with, so I had to move on. It fell apart then, really and truly.’
She moved back home to the midlands after six months, sharing a rental house with friends and a cat with her high school boyfriend, while quietly questioning if she had the stamina for London – and for music. ‘As a kid who grew up watching fucking Hannah Montana – I think we all thought that you’d get signed and that was kind of it,’ she says. Mahalia was only 13 when she signed with Warner Music’s Asylum Records after Ed Sheeran bigged her up on Twitter, and by 14, she’d already supported him and Emeli Sandé on their UK tours. The pressure was on and the imposter syndrome was real. ‘I signed so early. It’s really confusing to give a kid something on a plate and say, this is yours, but you’ve got to make it happen.’
In other words, she was young and she was still learning. ‘The reality of my life when I first moved to London was kind of a broke ass bitch who was also trying to live a dream and put on a bit of a front, because you kind of have to.’
Heart eyes
Three months later, a video of her performing her track ‘Sober’ took off on YouTube; the views climbed and the opportunities started to multiply. It felt like a breakthrough. So, a little older, a little wiser, and newly single, Mahalia decided to give London another go.
‘I remember being like – there are so many boys here,’ she says. ‘And boys my age, who are in music. Where I grew up, nobody was really into anything creative. I was very used to the idea of dating a guy who was, like, a bricklayer. I’m not gonna lie, I found that extraordinarily sexy then, probably still do – but when I moved here, I think I was just dead excited that there were men who I could connect with on that level.’
London guys are a bit full-on
But the southern boy thing? She wasn’t so into it, at first. ‘I remember once being in a pub in Stoke Newington and trying to order a lager and black,’ she says. ‘The guy that I was on a date with was like, ‘‘What the fuck is that? That’s weird.’’ And I was like, “you’re weird’’. London guys are a bit full-on.’
She tried celebrity dating app Raya, but she’s never really been an online dating girl: though she’s met her fair share of men through good, old-fashioned going out. ‘There’s so many unofficial stages of dating and speaking to someone that you have to go through now,’ she says with an eyeroll, when we touch on the ghosting and gaslighting and breadcrumbing terms that make up the vernacular of dating in 2025. ‘And it’s just bullshit. It really is.’
Mahalia would much rather wear her heart on her sleeve. ‘I’m definitely not a love bomber,’ she says. ‘But I feel it, I’m absolutely going to say it, even if it gets me in trouble.’
Enter the lovergirl
What actually is ‘lovergirl’? According to Mahalia, it is as simple as not being afraid of love. ‘My girlfriends are really cut-throat, especially when it comes to relationships,’ she says. ‘I am the opposite: I love being silly and falling in love and falling out of it and whatever else. I didn’t realise actually that it probably is a major part of who I am as an artist as well as a woman.’
The term has been something she’s always said on stage to introduce herself and pre-empt the various backstories of her songs, many of which are about past romances, and now, it’s the name of her upcoming EP. How does it manifest in the music itself? ‘Well, a lot of my love has felt quite forbidden,’ she explains. When I push about what she means, she skirts around specifics. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been able to fully talk about it. My ex, we met in a way that was not so cute. I think that sometimes it has gotten me in a bit of trouble – it’s a part of my romance story that I’ve never really spoken about, probably because it’s something that I want to ignore, but also out of fear of people judging me.’
This music is her being able to talk about those things and make light of them. One of those upcoming tracks, with Ty Dolla $ign and dancehall star Masicka, is literally called Different Type Of Love: it’s flirty, upbeat, and lyrically feels fresh and daring. ‘It literally says ‘‘under the covers, you're a big bad bully’’, which is quite rude,’ she laughs. ‘I think I’ve gotten to a point where talking about sex has become really comfortable, even with my mum. I’ve been finding a lot of comfort in talking to her. The EP is really stepping into that part of my femininity and my sexuality.’
Being in the Caribbean touched a part of me that I had put to sleep
Sonically, too, the tracks on this EP feel lighter, sexier, sun-kissed. ‘I do think the weather had a huge effect on me,’ she says. The record was made in Jamaica, and recently released ‘Pressure Points’ features Jamaican reggae singer Lila Iké: all skippy, soca-infused guitar melodies, the musical manifestation of a cheap cocktail at a beach club. ‘A fucking great strawberry daiquiri, yeah?’ she says. ‘I am completely with you.’
As a kid, Mahalia grew up on soul and R&B and jazz – but in the car, it was always reggae and dub. ‘I wasn’t even trying to write a bunch of music that was all dancehall and reggae vibes, just being in the Caribbean probably touched a part of me that I had put to sleep,’ she says. ‘These producers were playing me stuff and it felt so at home. If you’re second generation, and your immigrant grandparents live here [in the UK], you have to go on the journey yourself to find those parts of yourself. I don’t think you can force it.’
Good vibrations
For the last three years, Mahalia has hosted Mahalia Presents, her pop-up club night in London, New York, Bristol and Manchester which platforms emerging R&B artists such as Ayanna, Tara Lily and James Vickery. ‘Nobody was doing anything like that when I was coming up,’ she says. ‘If there was an R&B night I could have gone to, I would have fucking gagged in my teens. It’s been an incredible way to build a community.’
She’s cutting the shows to be less frequent this year after a realisation that – in her therapist’s own words – she has ‘never taken a holiday longer than five days’. ‘I’m a high vibration person, so I always need to be in chaos,’ she says. ‘I think I need some time to also just reflect on where I want to go next musically.’ What does that look like to her? It means taking stock of what she really wants out of all of this. ‘I know that I’m a bit scared at the minute,’ she says. ‘Scared that I won’t be able to reach the heights that I wanted to reach.’
The day before our chat, Mahalia posted a selection of homemade memes on Instagram using viral moments from the 2025 Grammys: there’s Beyoncé looking all surprised at her name being called, Taylor Swift whispering into Chappel Roan’s ear, Jaden Smith’s castle hat red carpet moment. ‘I don’t think awards make or break your career,’ Mahalia says, when I ask about the relevance of awards seasons these days. ‘Ten years ago, you would have an artist win Album of the Year at the BRITs, and it would sell an astronomical amount.’
I don’t think awards make or break your career
But, recalling how she felt when she won her first MOBO, it’s clear she feels some sort of emotion towards them. ‘I was in tears watching the Grammys on the weekend,’ she admits. ‘There is something so special about your work being appreciated. It’s also just admitting to yourself that it’s something that you want: I would be gutted to get to the end of my career and have not received something like that. I think about that stuff all the time.’
The best first date spots in London, according to a self-certified lover girl
1. Bruno’s
‘A bar on a boat on the canal in Islington. The drinks aren’t too expensive. They always play good music: R&B, American soul, music that puts you in a bit of a sexy mood. I would be so impressed if someone took me there.’
172 Shepherdess Walk, N1 7JL
2. Love Shack
‘Great cocktails, great vegan food. I’m actually not vegan, but the food is slappy dappy. It’s cosy, den-like and a little bit wacky. There’s books everywhere, there’s games. It just feels really cute and it doesn’t take itself too seriously.’
299 Cambridge Heath Rd, E2 9HA
3. Morito
‘A lovely date spot restaurant on Hackney Road. They do really good small plates and this thing when you can get a litre of red wine, which is a vibe. Definitely romantic.’
195 Hackney Rd, E2 8JL
‘A little tapas spot which does lovely carafes of wine that don’t cost too much. It’s probably my favorite place to go as a couple – we always get the garlic prawns, a good selection of bread, calamari, goat cheese and rocket salad…’
53 The Cut, London SE1 8LF
‘This place is mature: red lighting, dark, sexy, definitely a one-night-stand vibe. Great cocktails. I’m a negroni girl – maybe an old fashioned, but I’ve really got to have the taste for it.’
343 Cambridge Heath Rd, E2 9RA
‘Pressure Points’ featuring Lila Iké is out now. Watch the video here.
Photographer: Jess Hand @jesshandphotography
Photographer assistant: Isabelle Rutland @Isabelle Rutland
Design Director: Bryan Mayes @bryanmayesdotcom
Senior Designer: Jamie Inglis @818FPV
Photo Editor: Laura Gallant @lauramgallant
Stylist: Alize Demange @alizedemange
Stylist Assistants: Lara Sandres @larasandres and Aaron Aina @aaronaina
Hair Stylist: Jaz Lanyero @abitofjaz
Make up artist: Saba @thefacefairy
Location: The Social @thesociallondon
A delicious thank you to @lolas_cupcakes for supplying the cakes
Mahalia was dressed throughout in pieces from the Ninety Fly Archive @ninetyfly