When Lara Raj calls herself spiritual, it’s plain to see why. The ornate gold Om necklace resting against her chest, the effortless integration of crystals into conversation, the way she speaks of music like it’s something bigger than herself are all clear markers that this 19-year-old singer-producer is tuned into the universe’s frequency. It’s the same spirituality that earned her a place in Katseye—the first global girl group born out of a collaboration between record labels HYBE and Geffen Records—even though the path she’s walked has been marked by profound loss.
Two years ago, Raj was one of 20 girls immersed in gruelling training, competing for a spot in the then-unnamed global girl group. “It all started with a DM,” she recalls over Zoom, dressed in a black mesh tank top, her nose ring catching the light. “The label saw my song covers and suddenly, I was on a plane to LA.”
She quickly emerged as a frontrunner, navigating round after round of demanding training… until life intervened. “Two months before the final lineup was announced, I received news that my paati (maternal grandmother) had passed away,” she says softly. Her grandmother had been her spiritual anchor, always adorning her in crystals and unwavering love. “Before she died, she gave me a crystal—a Cat’s Eye.” After returning from her grandmother’s funeral in Chennai, Raj threw herself back into the chaos of training. Not long after, she was selected for the final group, whose name would soon be revealed: Katseye. “It felt like destiny. A full-circle moment,” she reflects, awe still lingering in her voice.
Born in Connecticut and raised in New York, Raj always carried a quiet certainty that she was meant for something bigger. “Music is like art to me,” she says. “This is what I’m supposed to do.” With her elder sister Rhea already producing tracks, Raj soaked in everything she could. By her teens, she was layering vocals in a makeshift bedroom studio, often until the wee hours of the morning. “I create something every night, even if it’s rough. It’s about keeping the muscle strong,” she explains.
Raj burst onto the scene with The Debut: Dream Academy, Netflix’s 2023 documentary chronicling the group’s rise and debut EP, Soft Is Strong. Alongside bandmates Manon Bannerman, Sophia Laforteza, Megan Skiendiel, Yoonchae Jeung and Daniela Avanzini, she became part of a group that wouldn’t just go on to break records; it would break moulds. A multicultural pop group rooted in individuality—Lara Raj is Indian, Bannerman was born to Swiss Italian and Ghanian parents, Laforteza is from the Philippines, Skiendiel is Chinese Singaporean, Jeung was born in Korea and Avanzini is Venezuelan Cuban—Katseye stands out not by erasing differences but by spotlighting them. “I wear my culture proudly. It’s never muted,” Lara beams, her bindi, nose ring and winged eyeliner adding up to small but potent declarations of her identity.
Soft Is Strong introduced Katseye to the world but their new EP, Beautiful Chaos, lives up to its name. Their latest single, ‘Gnarly,’ is punchy satire wrapped in distorted vocals and a bassline that demands movement. The choreography? Manic. “We were screaming when we heard it, then totally confused,” Raj laughs.
Fans were equally thrown. In 24 hours, the internet scrambled to unpack Katseye’s shift from pastel softness to wild club girl energy. The girls anticipated confusion. “We were actually trolling each other with hate comments on our group chat after the drop,” Raj grins. There’s something endearing about these Gen Z pop girls sticking together in the eye of the storm instead of going full Pussycat Dolls or Fifth Harmony. When I ask about their bond, the singer’s face lights up. “We have our own secret language and are woven into every part of each other’s lives. I always dreamed of a big friend group of girls. Now I have that.”
That closeness became a lifeline when she unexpectedly came out during a Weverse Live earlier this year. Offhandedly calling herself “half-fruitcake,” Raj didn’t anticipate the explosion. In the conservative world of K-pop, her announcement made headlines around the globe. “I didn’t think it would be that deep. I’ve been out since I was 14. Everyone who mattered knew. That morning, I woke up to hundreds of DMs saying, ‘I just came out because you did.’”
While touring this spring, Raj has been moved by similar moments of profound connection with fans, who call themselves ‘Eyekons’. “At a show in Dallas, someone held up a sign saying, ‘Brown girls for Katseye,’” she says, her voice catching. “I broke down. I couldn’t believe it was real.” Growing up wrestling with her hyphenated identity, that moment was everything. “I pushed my roots away for so long because it felt hard, but seeing that sign meant the world.” It only makes sense that Raj now draws inspiration from the rising tide of South Asians breaking barriers in entertainment. “Women like Maitreyi [Ramakrishnan], Avantika [Vandanapu] and Misha [Sattar] are opening doors I never imagined. I want to see our culture not just recognised, but celebrated.”
